Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(40)

“An app?” I’m almost too afraid to hear the rest, although I can guess what’s coming next.

“You can try to prepare yourself for what the intense pulsing vibrations will feel like for the first time in your ass, but it’s really impossible until you experience it.” As her finger touches the screen of her phone, an extreme buzzing assaults my body, from the base of my spine to the tip of my dick, and I nearly lose my balance and fall to the floor.

“What the fuck!” I bellow.

After a second, it’s gone. And in its wake is this strange sudden urge to come.

“Try not to make a mess,” she adds, before setting her phone down and turning back to her computer. “You don’t need to ask permission to come today. It’s the only exception.”

Okay, I see where this is going. I know what she’s doing, but how bad could it really be? My punishment is orgasms? I can take that. She’s clearly underestimated how much I love to come.

It takes less than an hour before I realize I was the one who did the underestimating. As I try to pour paint into the tray, it buzzes again, longer this time, and I nearly lose half the bucket on the plastic tarp. I fall to my knees, landing in cream-colored paint as the first almost orgasm hits me.

I don’t bother keeping my voice down either. It’s intense and euphoric, but not entirely a real orgasm. I don’t really come either. It’s more like…pre-cum. And instead of easing off like a regular climax, it just sort of comes and goes like a spasm.

After it subsides, I pick up the paint brush, do my best to clean up my mess and get back to work. Honestly, it’s not so bad. If it was in a better scenario, like actual sex, I might actually like it. I can definitely handle it as punishment.

Sometimes the vibrations are short and pulsing and sometimes they’re longer and intense. I get that little lightning-burst orgasm every time, but it’s never enough.

When she hits me for the twentieth time in less than an hour, I can’t take it anymore. In desperation, I drop the brushes and wrap my paint-splattered hand around my cock and stroke until I come for real, filling my palm and finally feeling a moment of relief from an actual orgasm.

But it doesn’t last long. Before I even get a chance to breathe, she hits me again, and it’s an unwelcome, torturous feeling. My orgasm relieved the arousal, but my dick is still hard, and there’s still this thing in my ass reminding me that my punishment is far from over.

As I’m edging the floorboards, she does it again. I grind my hand against my cock and suffer through a mini orgasm that feels a lot like dry heaving. My body convulses, and my ass clenches around the plug, but the pleasure is sorely lacking.

And again, when I’m rolling paint on the big wall for the first time. This time coming without even touching myself.

And again, when I’m refilling the tray, making yet another mess. I land in a heap on the floor afterward.

I didn’t know pleasure could be painful. But with each intense stimulation, my body aches and my head starts to pound.

If she’s trying to make me hate orgasms, I’m afraid I just might by the end of the day.

After I wash my hands, I get back to work, picking up the roller and finishing the big wall. A few minutes go by without any vibration and I try to enjoy the reprieve. I even pour the paint without making a mess. My dick is starting to deflate, but as soon as I start on the next wall, it’s back.

“Fucking stop!” I yell, feeling my knees buckle and sweat start to bead again on the back of my neck. But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she only makes it worse.

Once again, I reach into my briefs and stroke my aching cock. This orgasm is even worse. Weak and unfulfilling. But it gives me a short moment of relief before she’s at it again.

I’m covered in paint, my underwear are stained with the cum I couldn’t catch, and my body aches worse than I’ve ever felt it ache before. I’ve completely lost track of how many times I’ve come. Some of them I think I masturbated and some I didn’t. They all just sort of blend together.

Was jacking off last night worth it? Fuck no.

But I take my punishment in stride. There’s something strangely gratifying that comes with getting what you deserve. Because, once I’ve paid the price, I don’t have to live with the guilt anymore.





Rule #18: You can always make them give you one more.





Maggie





“I’m done.” His small, raspy voice draws my attention to the doorway, and I look up to find Beau, looking ragged and miserable. His face appears a bit clammy and his hair is sweat-soaked. There’s paint everywhere, and I bet if I took one look in his underwear, I know I’d find it cum-stained.

Was I too harsh? He looks so hurt and sad, and as much as I loved punishing him, I hate to see him like this.

Okay…I sort of like seeing him like this. It’s the remorse in his expression I especially enjoy.

“Did you clean everything up?” I ask.

He nods weakly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” I stand from my desk and lead the way to the dining room to inspect his work. And much to my surprise, it looks great. By some miracle, there’s not a drop of paint on the floorboards or hardwood.

I give him a proud smile. “You did great, Beau. I’m proud of you.”