He spat her tit out then, complete with a ball of warm saliva that smeared the surface and parted around her tender nub to either side, oozing vaguely across her skin. His hands insisted she drove down onto him, but then he left the rest to her.<br/><br/>"Not even one." He growled, settling into the rule. It might have come from out of nowhere - a vague fancying that he'd voiced out loud - but now he'd said it, it was binding. He was too proud to back down, and besides there was a certain perverse allure to it. "If you're too *weak* to follow the rule..." And he stressed the word, to emphasise just how he'd react to such failure; not necessarily harshly, but with ample disappointment. "... Then you tell me you're close, and I'll find another way to get off... More than likely you're going to end up with a stomach full of my seed, before long. That way, this evening, you'll be so pent up that when I *do* give you permission..." He trailed off, because the image it conjured in his mind was too glorious and beautiful to put into words. One of her thrashing, twitching,<i>screaming</i>out her pure euphoria. Of all the gratitude she'd feel, the deep-seated satisfaction he could finally grant her.<br/><br/>The very thought of it made him ache and he leaned back, arching himself backward over the lip of the tub and dangling his head. His eyes shut but he could still see her in his dreamworld, and he focussed on it, thrilling in every little detail he could conjure about her body after days of being increasingly intimate with it. That, coupled with the physical sensation of her riding him heatedly, bought him quickly toward his own orgasm, and he groaned out gladly. "A little more, slave... Just a little harder, a little further."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>