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Laying Out Her Limits

Master pushing His girl to her new limits. Thank you, Sir.
She knew better than to move, knew that if her hands wandered, she would be punished. He had ordered her to keep her hands where they were, above her head. He was not kind enough to restrain her—to keep her from moving. He wanted her to break, to disobey. His eyes told her to misbehave, that he needed to earn her submission. She whimpered as his fingers moved deeper, rougher.

She wanted everything.

She arched against his touch as his fingertips drew out a high-pitched whine from her throat. He chuckled and gripped her leg tighter, making sure she was spread wide and at least partially restrained—he was going to enjoy playing with her, pushing her past her acknowledged limits. His voice was a low growl, the sound rumbling through her, causing her to tremble, “Let it go…”

She whimpered again, her voice wavering as she pleaded, “Please Sir. Need more, please more…” She sounded desperate—her entire body trembled as his fingers pushed deeper, thrust faster.

His only response was to push harder, to run his calloused thumb over each of her over-sensitive nerve endings. She couldn’t help it when her hands scrambled against his fingers, urging him on, begging silently for more.

Instantly, his fingers stilled and he growled low in his throat. She froze, eyes wide. She hadn’t meant to move, knew better that to disobey her Master’s orders, and now she would be punished. She bit back a whimper of frustration and, knowing she was already in trouble with him, she risked dipping her own fingers inside, hissing at the sensory overload that was just beginning. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he growled out the command that had her tucking her hands under her head, threading her fingers through her hair to keep from moving. He nodded, approvingly, offering his girl a small smile of praise, before pushing against her again, teasing everywhere he could reach. Punishing her for moving by making her scream and shake without relief, without his fingertips curling deep.

Her hands were locked in her hair, yanking and tugging until she saw stars. She desperately needed to touch, to feel—to play—but she knew she’d not earned that privilege. His voice turned to a velvet purr, “Good girl…” She moaned out her pleasure at the simple words of praise, arching against his fingers—willing herself to behave. Her voice cracked and tumbled out as a low whine as she begged for more, pleaded with him to give her everything, to push her past her limits.

His fingers moved harder, became more insistent, and his voice was low and rough in her ear. “Break for me, girl. There are no limits. You have no limits anymore…”

Her eyes slid out of focus—she felt herself slipping down into her space, wanting more, wanting to please her Master however she could. She mumbled out her words, a string of nonsense mixed with pleading and whimpering. His smile bloomed wickedly and he pushed his fingers deeper, reminding her that she was His. She screamed, her entire body trembling as he pushed her over the edge and still kept up the assault on her nerves—her vision flashed white as pleasure tumbled into pain, and then shifted again into pleasure, into sensory overload.

“No. Limits,” his voice was stern, a direct order. He thrust deeper, harder, and growled out his approval at her behavior, at her uninhibited desires. He had pushed her to her pre-existing limits, and was demanding more from her, expecting her to let go of everything. He had, hours early, jokingly told her that she’d not be able to remember her own name—but now, in the midst of his ministrations, she was having trouble remembering what she answered to. She tried to focus on her Sir, tried to remember anything about herself save for the fact that she belonged to Him—she couldn’t remember anything but the notion that the only name that mattered for her was that she was ‘His girl’.

His fingers moved deeper, stretching her impossibly, “Want you to come for me now, girl, right now,” his voice rumbled right in her ear, and she trembled and moaned as he pushed harder. “Come for me again, my girl…” She couldn’t hold back—couldn’t even try to defy His voice, His orders. Screaming and shaking, she fell over the edge, bucking her hips and driving his hand deeper still.

He kept thrusting, pushing her further and further—she couldn’t speak anymore, her moans and whimpers coming out as gibberish. He smiled, his fingers finally stilling after she came again and again. She whimpered at the loss of contact, and she shivered, her entire body tingling. She was babbling, begging to be told if she had pleased her Master, if she was His good girl—she needed that praise, needed to please him. She was shaking, her eyes glazed.

He smiled down at her, his eyes warm—he was taking in the sight of her, well-used and exhausted, but still desperate, hanging on the edge. His voice was gentle, a soft purr, “Such a good girl—My good girl…” He petting and soothed her raw nerve endings, whispering praises into her hair. He gave her wrist a gentle tug, a silent command to move. “Come here, girl. Come to Master…”

Purring and crying, she curled against him, nuzzling and whimpering out her thanks. Her love. Her need for him, need to please him.

He had laid out her limits, made it clear that with him she had no limits.

She was His.

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Copyright © This text is copyrighted by Subtiggy. Do not reproduce, copy, steal, or borrow from my own writing. Thanks so much.

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