Chapter 58: Pleasure or Torture? [18+]
When she emerged again, Oliver nearly fell off the bed.
This time she wore a pair of delicate jewelled chains across her chest, each link glinting as it barely concealed her nipples. A heart-shaped butt plug peeked out from between her cheeks, a fluffy black tail swaying with every step she took.
She didn’t just walk this time — she sauntered, like a predator stalking prey, her tail swishing back and forth.
When she reached the bed, she turned her back to him, bent at the waist, and gave him a perfect view.
"You like it?" she asked innocently, glancing over her shoulder.
Oliver’s pants were tenting so hard it almost hurt. "You’re evil."
"Mmm, but you like it," she teased, giving the tail a little wiggle before straightening up.
By the time she came out in the final set — a jewel-trimmed lingerie ensemble paired with sheer thigh-highs and a tiny collar with a silver bell — Oliver was beyond reason.
Isolde posed one last time, first standing, then slowly kneeling on the floor with her thighs spread, letting her breasts jiggle freely as she settled into a seductive kneel. Her fingers traced down her stomach, stopping just above the panties, and she gave him a wicked grin.
That was it.
Oliver yanked down his trousers and freed himself, his cock springing up, hard and leaking.
Isolde’s grin turned downright devilish at the sight.
"Well, well," she purred, unclasping the jeweled bra and letting it fall to the floor. "Looks like you can’t wait any longer."
She walked toward him with a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, climbed onto the bed, and straddled his lap.
Oliver’s head tilted back, groaning as her soft thighs caged him in. But before he could reach out to touch her, she grabbed his wrists, pushing them behind his back.
"Ah—wait, what—"
The sound of a clasp snapping shut made his stomach flip. She’d taken her bra and tied it around his wrists like improvised restraints.
Oliver tugged experimentally — and found he couldn’t free himself.
Isolde leaned in until her breasts pressed against his face, her warm breath tickling his ear. "No touching," she whispered, before pulling back just enough to make him strain toward her.
Her devilish grin widened. "Now, let’s see how long you can last while I have my fun."
Oliver’s arms strained against the makeshift bindings, his breathing already uneven.
"Isolde—"
"Shhh." She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. Her crimson eyes gleamed with mischievous satisfaction. "You’ve been watching me play dress-up all night. Now it’s my turn to play with you."
She slid back slightly on his lap, her soaked panties brushing against his straining length under the fabric of his trousers.
Oliver hissed through his teeth. "You’re gonna break me..."
"That’s the idea."
She began to grind her hips slowly, rubbing her slick heat along his shaft through the fabric, making it twitch and throb against the friction.
Squelch... squelch...
The lewd sound of wetness meeting cloth filled the room, and Oliver bit back a groan.
"You’re already so hard," Isolde teased, her tone dripping with satisfaction. "And I haven’t even touched you properly yet."
Her hands slid up his chest, nails grazing his skin lightly before she leaned forward again, pressing her breasts against his face.
"Bury yourself in them," she whispered. "You know you want to."
Oliver didn’t need to be told twice. He buried his face between her soft, warm mounds, inhaling her scent, but his hands were still bound behind him. He couldn’t grab, couldn’t squeeze, could only strain helplessly as she used her chest to smother and tease him.
"Mmphhh—!"
Isolde giggled, enjoying his muffled frustration. "Look at you, all worked up and powerless. It’s adorable."
"Stop teasing—"
"Shhh." She gave his cheek a playful slap. "No talking, remember?"
She slid off his lap suddenly, kneeling between his knees. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants, dragging them down just enough to free his length, which stood flushed and glistening.
"Mmm..." She ran a finger along the underside, making him twitch. "So hard... so ready..."
Instead of stroking, she just sat back on her heels, watching him strain.
"Do something already!" Oliver growled.
"Ah-ah," she scolded, wagging a finger. "Patience."
She picked up a feather from the box — yes, a feather — and began brushing it along his shaft, making him jerk and curse under his breath.
"Fuck—!"
Isolde giggled darkly. "Language, master."
When he looked like he was about to break free just to grab her, she finally gave him what he wanted — wrapping her soft, delicate feet around his shaft.
Oliver’s eyes widened. "You’re kidding—"
"Not at all."
She pressed her soles together and began to stroke him slowly, her toes curling slightly, slickening him with the wetness already dripping from his tip.
Squelch... schlick... squelch...
The sound was obscene, and Oliver’s breathing turned into ragged gasps.
"Look at you," Isolde teased, glancing up at him with a wicked smile. "You’re about to lose it, aren’t you?"
Oliver couldn’t even form words — just a guttural groan as his hips bucked.
"Good boy," she whispered, stroking faster now. "Cum for me. Paint me with it."
That was all it took.
"Fuuuuck—!"
Hot ropes of cum spurted from him, splattering across her stomach, her thighs, even streaking across her dark skin and leaving glistening lines on her face.
Isolde giggled softly, licking a bit from the corner of her lip. "Mmm... you really were backed up."
Oliver collapsed backward on the bed, panting like he’d just run a marathon.
Oliver lay there, chest heaving, his cock softening at last as he tried to catch his breath.
"Finally..." he groaned. "You’re insane. I thought you were going to break me."
Isolde’s voice, low and wicked, cut through the quiet.
"Oh no, master. You don’t get to rest yet. It’s not over until I have my fun."
Before he could react, she whispered the spell again. "[Vigor Surge]."
The magic hit him like lightning — a jolt that made his muscles tense, his heart pound, and his cock spring back to life, harder than ever.
"Wh-what the hell—?!" Oliver gasped, looking down at himself.
Isolde’s smile turned positively devilish. "Mmm~ perfect. Now, let’s put this back to use."
She crawled up the bed on all fours, her breasts swaying with every movement, until she reached his lap. Without hesitation, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking it slowly, deliberately.
"Ahh—" Oliver groaned, the sensitivity almost painful after the forced orgasm.
"Mmphhh—!"
Isolde giggled, enjoying his muffled frustration. "Look at you, all worked up and powerless. It’s adorable."
She pulled back slightly, just enough to let him breathe, then reached down and finally undid his pants. His cock sprang free, throbbing and wet at the tip.
"Mmm..." She licked her lips. "Much better."
Her fingers wrapped around him, slow and deliberate. She stroked him with lazy, almost cruel precision, just enough pressure to make his hips twitch.
"Ahhh—!"
"Shhh, don’t cum yet," she warned, her tone playful but commanding. "We’re just getting started."
She pressed her breasts together, trapping his length between them.
Schlick... schlick...
The sound of her tits sliding along his shaft was lewd, obscene. She moved slowly at first, letting him feel every inch of the soft friction, before picking up the pace just enough to make him whine.
"Gods, Isolde—!"
"Not yet," she purred, pulling back just as he felt the pressure build. "You don’t get to cum until I say so."
She slid off his lap, crouching between his knees now. Her hands held his thighs apart as she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the pre-cum that had already begun to drip.
"Salty..." she murmured, before taking him into her mouth in one slow, obscene motion.
Slurp... glrk... slrp...
The sounds were loud, wet, and vulgar, echoing in the magically sealed room.
Oliver’s head tilted back, groaning, his hips jerking involuntarily.
Isolde pulled off with a wet pop, her chin glistening. "Mmm... I could make you cum with my mouth right now," she teased, stroking him with one hand, "but that’d be too easy."
Before he could protest, she stood and slipped out of the last piece of fabric on her body — her panties — letting them fall to the floor. Her dark skin glistened with arousal, her inner thighs shining wetly.
She straddled him again, but instead of taking him inside, she slid her soaked slit along his length, coating him in her slickness.
Squelch... squelch... squelch...
Oliver groaned, practically shaking. "Isolde—! If you keep this up—!"
"Hold it." Her voice was firm now, dominant. "Don’t you dare cum until I’m ready for you."
Then she leaned back slightly, rubbing herself along him faster, pressing her clit against his shaft, using him for her own pleasure. Her breathing grew heavier, her moans slipping out, high-pitched and needy.
When she finally positioned herself properly and sank down onto him, it was with a slow, deliberate motion that made them both gasp.