Sophie straddled Iain’s hips, her knees pressing into the floor on either side of him, her thighs trembling slightly—not with nerves, but with need. Her pussy was still slick, aching, lips parted and glistening as she hovered over his thick, pulsing cock. The head nudged against her entrance, and she gasped at even that contact—her body was so desperate now it felt like she might explode.

Iain watched her with fire in his eyes, hands resting lightly on her thighs, letting her think she was in charge.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice like velvet over gravel. “Put it in. Ride it. Show me how badly you want it.”

Sophie bit her lip and reached between her legs, fingers wrapping delicately around his shaft—hot and hard, wet with her own arousal. She guided him to her opening, breath catching as she slowly, carefully sank down.

The stretch hit her instantly.

Her cunt clenched, swallowing inch after inch of him, and her body shuddered as she settled lower, her nails digging into Iain’s chest for balance.

He groaned, eyes locked on where their bodies connected.

“Fucking hell, Sophie…”

She whimpered, still easing down, until he was buried deep inside her again—her pussy stretched wide, fluttering around the thick girth. Once she was seated fully, she rocked forward, hips circling, grinding down to feel the friction drag across her walls.

“Oh… fuck…” she breathed. “You feel so big inside me…”

Iain smirked. “And you’re dripping down my balls already.”

Her cheeks flushed. Emboldened, she began to ride—slow at first, savouring it, letting her hips rise and fall with a rhythm that made her breasts bounce and her breath hitch in time with each slap of skin on skin.

Iain’s hands slid up her body, over her waist, thumbs teasing the undersides of her breasts before gripping them firmly.

“Play with yourself,” he growled. “Let me see you stroke that needy little clit while you fuck yourself on my cock.”

Sophie moaned—half shocked, half desperate—and obeyed. Her hand dropped between her thighs, fingers finding her swollen bud, rubbing small, slick circles that made her hips jerk and buck harder against him.

Her pussy tightened with every stroke, every grind. She was so close again. It was maddening.

Iain’s hips began to thrust up into her now, fucking her from below, each upward movement hitting that spot inside that made her cry out. Her fingers worked faster, and her eyes started to flutter shut—

But his voice cut through.

“No.”

She froze.

“No cumming. Not yet.”

Her eyes flared with frustration and want. “Iain… please…”

He sat up, cock still deep inside her, and grabbed her throat gently—but firmly.

“Not until I say. You want to cum?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You beg for it.”

She whimpered, hips grinding helplessly against him, pussy pulsing wildly.

“Please… please let me cum… I need it, I can’t—”

His mouth cut her off—tongue hot and forceful, taking her breath with the kiss as his cock throbbing inside her. His hands gripped her ass hard, helping her bounce, control slipping from her as her body moved to the rhythm he set.

But her orgasm? Still just out of reach.

“I said beg,” he growled again, breaking the kiss. “And maybe I’ll let you cum… on my cock.”

Sophie was a vision. Her body glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, the rise and fall of her chest growing heavier with every desperate grind against Iain’s lap. She was still on top, but the illusion of control had long since vanished. He sat back against the cushioned seat of the studio chair, hands resting possessively on her hips, watching her ride him with delicious need.

He hadn’t let her come. Not once. Not yet.

Every time her moans pitched into that telltale gasp, every time her thighs trembled with the threat of climax, he would slow her. A firm grip on her waist. A subtle shift in angle. A low voice in her ear, reminding her who was in charge.

Now, she was writhing—half pleasure, half torment. Her slick heat clenched him again and again, needy and aching, and her hands clutched at his chest, nails digging in.

“Iain…” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips brushing her collarbone. “Please, what, Sophie?”

Her reply was a ragged exhale, a soft whimper of frustration.

“Please let me cum… I need it… I can’t—”

“You can,” he cut her off, biting gently at her shoulder. “You will.”

His hands slid down her back, palms broad and possessive, until he reached the swell of her ass. He cupped it, spread it slightly, then teased his fingers lower—over the soft, soaked skin of her thighs, to where their bodies joined.

He dipped a finger between her cheeks.

She froze.

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “Do you remember where your finger was earlier?”

Her body jolted with the memory—raw, delicious, taboo.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And how wet it got you?”

She nodded slowly, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

Iain’s voice dropped to a growl. “You’ve been such a good girl for me, Sophie. Letting me control every inch of your body… taking what I give you, and begging when I take it away. But now…”

He shifted beneath her, pushing her back just slightly, so he could see her fully—see the flush of her skin, the hunger in her eyes, the way her nipples stayed taut and sensitive.

“…now I want that tight little hole.”

Her eyes widened.

“I want to see it stretch around my cock,” he said, dragging a single finger slowly down from her lower back until it circled her puckered entrance. “I want to feel it… own it.”

She moaned—sharp and guttural. Her hips moved without thinking, grinding into his lap, chasing friction, chasing release.

“But you’re going to ask me,” he murmured. “Beg me.”

He slipped the tip of his finger in just a fraction, watching her twitch around it.

“Beg me to fuck your ass, Sophie.”

She whimpered. Her voice failed her at first—caught between submission and sheer need. But then she looked down at him, body trembling, lips quivering, and she let herself fall.

“Please…” she whispered. “I want it. I want you to put your cock there. I want to feel you fill me, stretch me—make me yours, Iain.”

The groan that left his throat was primal.

He gripped her hips hard, lifting her up and off his cock slowly, their bodies parting with a wet, reluctant sound. His thick shaft stood slick and throbbing between them, a testament to his control—and her torture.

He guided her onto the studio couch, bent her forward over the edge, her gorgeous curves on full display for him, her ass tilted just the way he wanted.

Then he reached for the camera.

He turned the dial.

No longer just photos.

Recording.

“This,” he said, voice low, husky with need as he lined himself up behind her, “is going to be one hell of a shot.”

Sophie braced herself against the edge of the couch, palms spread wide, her breath already uneven. The camera’s small red light blinked steadily from its tripod nearby — capturing every twitch, every moan, every sinful shift of her body.

Iain stood behind her, cock glistening, thick and flushed, slowly stroking the base with one hand as the other gripped her ass and spread her wider.

Her arsehole tightened instinctively under the cool air and the weight of anticipation. He’d teased her, played her like an instrument, and now she was here — bent and offered, ready to be claimed in the most forbidden way.

He leaned forward, dragging his cockhead down the small of her back, trailing it along her crack with deliberate slowness until the tip nestled at her entrance.

Sophie whimpered, fingers clawing at the cushions.

Iain growled softly, “That’s it, feel it.”

He pressed forward, just enough for the tip to part her tight ring. Her gasp was sharp and immediate.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You want this, remember?”

“I do…” she managed, voice tight with a blend of nerves and arousal. “God, I do.”

He pushed deeper—inch by slow, unforgiving inch—feeling her stretch around him. Her body resisted, quivered, and then yielded, inch by inch.

The girth of him was merciless.

“Fucking perfect,” Iain groaned, biting his lip as her ass hugged him so tightly it nearly stole his breath. “You feel how good this is, Sophie? How right your little hole feels wrapped around my cock?”

She moaned, knuckles white from gripping the couch. “It’s… it’s so full…”

“Too full?” he asked, grinding slowly, withdrawing slightly before pressing back in just a little more.

“No,” she cried out. “It’s everything.”

With a low, satisfied growl, he bottomed out, every thick inch buried in her forbidden heat. His hands slid up her back, possessive, before tangling in her hair and tugging her upright so her back arched against his chest.

Then he whispered in her ear, voice like velvet laced with steel: “Touch yourself.”

Sophie’s hand slid between her legs instantly, fingers finding her drenched folds. The sound alone — her wetness, the desperate flick of her fingers — was filthy and intoxicating.

He stayed still inside her, letting the sensation burn into both of them.

“Rub your clit for me while I take your ass, Sophie. I want you dripping while I stretch this perfect hole… I want you so fucking close, you’re crying for it.”

She obeyed, breath hitching, her hips beginning to roll — not to move him, but to chase that pleasure he was still denying her.

Iain began to thrust.

Slow. Deep. Deliberate.

Every pull back felt like a threat. Every drive in made her tremble.

Her body trembled and quivered, sounds spilling from her lips—moans, gasps, fragments of pleas.

He leaned down, bit her shoulder gently, then hissed against her skin, “Don’t you dare cum. Not until I say.”

She cried out, fingers moving faster, betraying her desperation. “Iain, please…”

He grinned, slamming his cock deep once more. “Begging already?”

She nodded frantically, lost in the ache, in the fullness, in the cruel control.

He held her there — ass stretched tight around him, her fingers soaked and frantically circling her clit, her body a livewire of unfulfilled pleasure.

And then he stopped.

Still inside her. No motion. Just heat and pressure and breathless tension.

“Stay right there,” he growled. “Right on the edge for me. I’m not done with you yet.”

The camera whirred softly in the background, its lens drinking in every filthy second as Iain gripped Sophie’s hips tight, fingers digging into the curves of her flesh like he was claiming her—branding her.

She was still trembling, her body held hostage on the edge of orgasm, stretched around his cock, her hole slick now with lube, spit, and the slow thrusts he had resumed. He hadn’t let her cum. Not once. And it was making her delirious.

He growled low in his throat, the sound pure ownership, possessive and primal. “You still want it, don’t you?” he rasped into her ear. “That tight little pussy of yours aching for me?”

“Yes,” she panted, voice thick with need, shame, and raw hunger. “Please, I need your cock in me. I need it so bad…”

Iain pulled back, his cock slipping from her arse with a lewd pop, the absence instantly making her whimper. He stepped back and admired her — her flushed skin, her glistening thighs, the way she stayed in position, ass in the air, thighs parted, her fingers twitching with restraint.

He grinned, stroking himself slowly, letting her watch. “You’re dripping. Fucked in the ass and still so wet for more.”

Sophie looked over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes glassy. “I need to feel it… inside me.”

“Oh, you will,” Iain purred, voice dipped in control. “But you don’t get it just because you ask. You beg, remember?”

He moved forward, just enough to drag his thick cockhead through the slickness between her legs, letting it bump against her clit, drag through her folds, but never quite pushing in.

Sophie sobbed out a moan. “Iain, please, fuck me… fill me.”

He held his cock still and leaned over her again, chest brushing her back as he whispered, “Not enough. Tell me how much you want it. Tell me what you’ll do to earn it.”

She trembled beneath him, desperation coating every word. “I’ll do anything. I want to be yours. I want to feel every inch, stretch around you, cum on your cock, feel you ruin me…”

He reached down, one hand sliding beneath her, fingers brushing over her soaked pussy lips, making her jolt.

“Ruin you?” he murmured, teasing her entrance with the swollen head. “You want me to use your tight little cunt until you can’t walk straight?”

“Yes—yes—I want it so fucking badly…”

Iain eased forward, just a fraction, letting her feel the pressure begin… then stopped.

“Then keep begging,” he whispered.

Sophie moaned, grinding her hips back, her voice desperate and high, “Please, Iain. I need you inside me. I want to cum with your cock buried deep, I want to squeeze every drop from you. Please, fuck my pussy—fuck me hard—take me—please—I’m yours!”

The words hit him like a match to fuel.

He clicked the camera’s focus, repositioning it on her face just as he lined himself up once more—this time at her dripping, pulsing entrance.

And just before he drove in, he spoke low and dark: “That’s better. Now let me show you what happens when you beg just right.”

To be continued.....