Her moans are louder now. Her muscles quiver. Her mind is made of glass.
In the depth of her despair, drifting on the edge, she begs of him: “Please allow me… I cannot stand this… I need to… cum… give it to me… please…”
He just laughs at her, continuing his labors. Rubbing, scratching, pinching, squeezing, poking, thrusting. Tormenting her with his attentions, and his final say of her permission.
The power to deliver her release is his. Just on word can send her spinning in a cascade of delight. She craves for it; she hungers.
“No,” he says.