Number Four-Fifteen

Part III

He walks through the columns to a door on the side. Through the door is a sumptuous bedroom, complete with a fourposter, silk-sheeted bed.

"Get on the bed," he says. "And masturbate."

"Yes, Master."

I climb onto the bed, which is extremely soft and comfortable. There are a bunch of pillows; I prop myself up on those so that I can see him. He's taken a chair by the foot of the bed, his penis limp, and is watching me with interest.

"With my fingers, Master?" I ask.

"For now," he says, nodding.

I spread my legs and begin.

This is such a standard procedure that I hardly have to think about it. One finger on the clitoris, already slick with juices, one hand on the breast of my choice. I squeeze a nipple and moan. It's not going to take long. My fingers probe in and out of my pussy h spr spreading the fluids around.

The strange thing, though, is that the man watching me is simply watching me, and his penis is limp. It's a bit of a turn-off, you know? Normally when I jack off, the man watching me is rubbing himself like the world's about to end. Not the Emperor, though: he's sitting in the chair, legs crossed, penis flopping over his thighs, hands resting on a knee, as though he's watching - oh, I dunno - as though he's watching someone repair a car or something.

But his eyes - his eyes are intense, dark, and glittery. If his penis is limp, all the blood filling it seems to have gone into his brain, because he's absorbing my actions with his eyes. It's extremely disconcerting.

My fingers are on autopilot; the hand on the breasts moves to spread the labia a little wider, allow more access; I put a finger inside my vagina and feel wet muscle contracting around it.

The Emperor gets up and rummages in a dresser. "Continue," he says offhandedly. "But don't come yet."

Oh, that horrible order! The moment they say it, I always sprint to the edge. No, hold off. Dirty laundry. Dirty laundry. Damn. I'll have to choose a new one, because that now makes me think of his last punishment session. No. Toads. There we go. Toads, gulping and slimy and warty. Down girl. Down.

But what he finds in the drawer brings me right back to the edge again. It's a dildo, a basic piece of plastic, about an inch in diameter and eight inches long. I moan at the sight of it.

"Do you want this?" he asks, teasingly.

"Yes, master," I say breathlessly.

"Yes, master, what?" he asks.

"Yes, master, I want the dildo."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to stick it in my pussy, master."

"And fuck yourself with it?"

"Yes, master, I'm going to fuck myself with it."

His penis is beginning to rise, finally. The sight transfixes me, and I pause slightly in my stroking.

"Don't stop," he orders coldly. "Or I'll have to punish you again."

I moan at the thought.

"However," he says, "punishment for you seems to be a pleasure, is it not?"

"Yes, master," I gasp. God, I'm so close.

"Wouldn't you rather have the real thing?" he asks, gesturing to his half-erect penis.

"Of course, master," I say, hoping I don't sound too insolent. Apparently I do, because he narrows his eyes.

"We'lve tve to work on you," he says. "Keep touching yourself," he orders.

Oh, God. It's so difficult. Now that his penis is up, I can't stop staring at it. With his eyes, too, staring at me as though they're already fucking me - it's the most arousing masturbation I've ever experienced.

"Please, master," I finally whimper. "Please, may I have the dildo, master?"

"Wouldn't you rather have me?" he asks.

"Yes, master," I say.

"So, what should you ask?"

"Please fuck me, Master," I say. Oh, the pain of not coming!

He waits.

"Please, master, I beg you, I want to be fucked by you. I want to feel your cock inside me, hard and hot and ..."

His hand wraps around his penis, but stays still.

"Please, master, I want to come, may I please come?" I've had to slow down my stroking, and fortunately he hasn't ordered me to speed up, because if he did, I'd be in terrible trouble. Though being in trouble doesn't seem to be too unpleasant.

After an interminable moment, he finally stands up, bends over, and sticks the dildo in my pussy. "Yes, you may come," he says.

I grab the dildo and begin fucking myself madly with it. Oh, God, it feels so good, to be able to let go of the control, to simply rub and fuck and probe and slide and slip; the dildo inside me, the fingers outside me. It's just plastic, but it's big and hard and it's inside me.

"Oohhh," I moan. "Yes, yes, yes, yesyesyesyes...." A sheet of hot water slips over me. I see stars, and close my eyes for a second.

When I open them, when I've come back down, the Emperor is kneeling on the bed, his penis very erect, his eyes intense.

"Now I'm going to fuck you," he says.

And he does. He spreads my legs with his knees and insinuates the entire eight and a quarter inches of himself into me as far as it goes; it hits a wall, but then he shifts his position, grabs my waist and tilts my pelvis, and then slides the rest in.

Oooh, boy. This is sex. I never knew a penis could go so far in; it feels like it's going to pop out of my stomach.

I moan, slightly incoherent, because I've just had an orgasm and all my nerves are on fire and there's a huge cock jammed into my pussy and I feel like it's splitting me open.

"What's your favorite position?" he asks conversationally, as he draws himself out almost all the way, and then plunges back in, slowly, like shoving a towel into a glass you're trying to dry.

"Nnggg," I say intelligently. "Doggy-style," I gasp. "Master."

He pulls out suddenly, flips me over easily, and bends my rubbery legs into position. My hands find a pillow and grab it for whatever support it can provide. I feel his penis rubbing for just a second in the back hole, but it slides off and enters my wet pussy. Strong hands grab my waist and begin pushing and pulling me; this is why it's called screwing, isn't it, because it fits so tight and he stays still and you're the one who moves and oh God just let me explode Oh please, master, please, and I can't tell if I'm moaning or not because my ears are buzzing with blood and every single nerve feels like it's been put through a wringer but it feels so good, and oh, my ass is still warm from the spanking and what is he doing with his hands?

His forefinger has found my clitoris again.

"Please, master," I gasp, "may I come?"

"You may come freely now."

So I do, gasping and bucking and screaming and pleading, but he keeps fucking me, in out slow inexorable plunges; he pops out with a sucking sound but then pops back in and it's stretching, stretching, stretching.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I scream wildly. "Yes, fuck me, fuck me master, please, it's so good, it's so hard... yes, oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh yes, yes yesyesyesyesyes!" Two orgasms now, proper screaming ones with the vagina clenching so hard around his prick, I think I'm going to die, and then he speeds up and both hands are again on my waist, but to steady me so I don't go shooting into the wall, because it's so hard and violent, but good violent, good hard. Just as I'm about to explode, he stops, buried to full depth.

"You're a naughty slut," he says hoarsely, pressing tightly against me. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," I moan. He pulls out just to the tip. "Yes, master."

"Yes, what?" he says harshly, with a slap on my buttocks. Oh, gods, is he going to spank me again? If he does, I'll die of pleasure.

"Yes, master, I'm a naughty slut." That gets my fires going again, as strongly as if I haven't already come many times today.

"And you want me to fuck you, hard." He moves, once, in, out. Poised at the tip, trembling.

"I'm a naughty slut, master, and I want you to fuck me, hard, master," I say, whimpering. "Please," I add, for good measure.

"What do you want?" he growls.

"I want you to fuck me, master, please!" I cry. In-out.

"Again."

"Please, master, I want you to fuck me!" Another in-out.

"Again!"

"Please, master, please, fuck me hard, I want you to fuck me hard!"

And he does, all eight-and-a-quarter inches of him slamming into me, one hand around my waist, the other one pulling on my ponytail (which I normally wear just for this very purpose). The world explodes in a frenzy of stars and arcs of light and clenching muscles and blackness and then the feeling of him shuddering and spurting straight into me. "Ssslluut," he growls, as he forces himself to the deepest.

I'm about to collapse on the bed, but he's still holding me up. Good God, is there more?

"Stay," he says, and pulls out. My legs are trembling, my arms are trembling, I can feel cum and semen dripping down my thighs. I hear a drawer opening and a whoosh of cloth. Then there's a rough sensation between my legs - he's toweling me off.

"Thank you, master," I say.

"For what, Mina?" he asks.

"For the sex, master, it was incredible, and for cleaning me up, master."

"You're welcome."

A final swipe, and my thighs are clean. He's only given my vagina a cursory swipe, for which I am grateful - I don't think they could take any more sensation.

"Are you finished?" he asks.

"What do you mean, Master?" I ask.

"Have you had all the orgasms you can have for now?" he asks.

"Um," I say. "Yes, master, I think so. I'm sorry, master," I add.

He's looking a little disappointed. "Well, we'll have to work on your endurance."

"I think, master," I say, "that I'll feel much better in half an hour."

His face lifts slightly.

"That's good," he says. He orders lunch, and we eat sandwiches cross-legged on the bed. I'm trying to eat daintily, but I'm very hungry.

"May I ask a question, master?" I ask.

"You already have," he says. "You may ask another one, though," he says loftily.

I hope my expression isn't too amused. "What are we doing after lunch, Master?"

He doesn't respond.

"Master?" I prompt him.

"Another rule, Mina," he says, sounding slightly irritated suddenly, "is that when I don't respond, I have a good reason for not responding. In this case, it is because you will find out what we are doing after lunch when we get to it."

"Sorry, master," I say. "Thank you for telling me, master."

"But since you asked, and because you now deserve it even more for your insolent question -" I catch my breath, thinking I know what's coming "-you will be taken to the chambers below and punished properly."

The fluids begin to leak. Gods.

He must have noticed me flushing or something, because then he says, "There will be no restrictions on coming. This time, at least." Oh, goody.

The crumbs are swept away by another manservant, who ogles me up and down while he clears away the dishes. The Emperor sees him looking and says abruptly, "You may join us downstairs in half an hour, if you so desire."

"Yes, sir," he says, grinning and rubbing his crotch, where a bulge is forming.

The Emperor dresses himself, and then we leave.