[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/bdsmerotica/comments/g54f6t)
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/bdsmerotica/comments/g5n3vz)
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“Sshh,” he said soothingly. Tenderly stroking her sweat dampened hair he said in a near whisper, his face close to hers, “you’re doing so well, sweet slave. I’m so proud of my property.”
She mewled quietly, the sound muffled by the large ball gag that filled her mouth. The steady flow from her nose and stretched mouth made her hard, panting breaths sound wet and coated her face in a beautiful, glistening mask of humiliating filth.
Behind their quiet exchange they both heard the background drone of the remote vibrator buzzing steadily against her clit punctuated with metallic clinks and wooden thumps as she vainly tried to escape the vibrator’s delicious torment. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed to hooks on the table, with chains over her waist, chest and thighs. Though she could shift slightly, the vibrator was firmly attached and maintained an even, inescapable pressure against her wet, swollen clit.
Sitting beside the table, he continued stroking her hair, watching her eyes, her breathing, her movements, the flushing color of her skin. She was like a book he had read a thousand times, knowing exactly what each page contained, able to determine with perfect precision the thoughts in her head, the feelings coursing through each part of her body. He was able to wring from her the reactions and experiences he wanted like a musician plays their instrument.
At exactly the right moment, he pressed a button on the remote and the buzzing ceased and the strange silence amplified her grunts and moans as she backed away from the edge of orgasm again. Was it the fifth time? The tenth? She had no idea any more, her ability to count long gone along with any sense of time or semblance of consciousness beyond her Master’s face and voice and the fire consuming her clit.
“I’m so proud of you, cunt,” he whispered, and smiled down at her. A smile filled, somehow, with both warmth and cruelty at the same time. She looked back at him, her eyes pleading as the buzzing resumed. Unable to speak, she communicated to him with the tools available to her, unintelligible grunts and cries and mewling, and those eyes.
Again, he understood what she was trying to tell him. She was begging, pleading with her entire being. But not for release, not for an end to the repeated edging, the building of her need higher and higher and over and over, not even for the final release of orgasm. No, his slave, his treasured property was imploring him to continue until he was sated, to use her, in this way or any other for his pleasure, to be as cruel and brutal as he desired, to make this torment worse, harder, as difficult as he desired. She was telling him that her service, her obedience were his, utterly, that their depth, their limit would only be reached when he was satisfied, that they would end only when he decided it was so.
His reply was also unspoken as he turned the vibrator up and bent, smiling, to kiss her sweat soaked forehead.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/g6qoby/vignette_iii_mf_ds