“Worship You Ruined” – Part II: Bound in Heat

You’re still shaking.

Your thighs are sticky, your body a mess of orgasm and sweat, but you’re not finished. Not even close. I can see it in the way your chest rises, the way your lips part like you’re trying to ask for something — but don’t know how.

So I make it simple for you.

“On the bed. On your knees. Face down.”

You obey instantly — still drunk on the way I fucked you outside, still dizzy from how hard you came. But the second your knees hit the sheets, you feel it: the ache returning. The emptiness. The unbearable need for more.

You glance over your shoulder, lips trembling, but I don’t speak.

Instead, I take my time.

I stalk around the bed like I’m studying prey I already caught — deciding how to play with it. I grab the silk sash from your sarong, and you know what’s coming. You arch your back. Present yourself. Your breath quickens.

I tie your wrists together. Tight. Beautiful.

Then I press one hand into your lower back and slide the other between your legs.

You’re soaked again.

Already.

“I haven’t even touched you,” I mutter darkly, “and you’re fucking dripping.”

“I can’t help it,” you whimper, face pressed into the sheets. “I need it again…”

I lean in, my voice low and cruel. “You don’t need anything unless I say you do.”

You moan — because that makes it worse. Better. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and I slide two fingers inside just to feel it. The way your walls suck me in like they missed me.

I pull out before you can enjoy it.

You groan, hips rolling, desperate.

“Please…”

“Please what?”

You grind your ass back, searching for me. “Please fuck me. Please don’t make me wait—”

But I do.

I kneel behind you, grip your ass hard enough to leave prints, and don’t give you what you want. Instead, I lean forward, breath hot on your ear.

“You think I’m going to just give it to you?” I whisper, sliding my cock along your soaked slit without entering. “After the way you moaned for me out there? Like a needy little slut who can’t stop cumming all over herself?”

Your breath hitches.

I drag the head of my cock across your clit, slow. Teasing.

“Beg for it. Show me how badly you need to be filled.”

You don’t hesitate.

“I’m yours. Fuck me. I need to feel it. I want to be ruined again. Please… please, I’ll take anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

I push in — just the tip.

You scream.

Then I stop.

And pull out.

Your head snaps up, wrists straining against the binds, eyes wild. “Why—?”

I grab your hair and pull you up to my mouth. “Because begging isn’t enough anymore. You’re going to suffer for it first.”

I flip you onto your back. Your hands still tied, arms above your head, legs spread wide, soaked and exposed. You’re panting, moaning, biting your lip — and your pussy’s pulsing like it’s crying for attention.

But I don’t give it.

I drop to my stomach and trail kisses across your inner thighs. You twitch, whimper, arch — but I don’t touch you where you need it. I blow warm air over your clit. I kiss around it. I let my tongue almost flick it… then pull away.

You’re shaking.

Tears of frustration well in your eyes.

You’re falling apart without a single thrust.

And when I finally let my mouth really touch you — it’s over.

You cum the second my tongue presses flat and firm against your clit, your whole body arching off the bed, your scream echoing through the villa as you gush again — soaking my face, your thighs, the sheets beneath you.

You fall back, breathless. Destroyed.

But I’m not done.

Because the second you relax, I flip you again, pull your ass back into the air, and slam into you deep — fast, brutal, claiming every inch while you’re still convulsing from the last orgasm.

You cry out, overwhelmed, and I don’t stop.

Your moans become helpless, endless. You squirt again, without warning — loud and wet and uncontrollable — and I hold you there, grinding deep, watching your legs tremble.

You’re a wreck.

And you’ve never looked more perfect.

I lean over your back, voice low, dangerous.

“You’re not coming again unless I say.”

And just like that, the tension resets.

You don’t beg now.

You obey.

Because your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

It’s mine.