#edging slave

You rub faster. Harder. You try circling, pressing, everything that usually works. The pleasure builds and builds, cresting toward something that never arrives. You're gasping, hips rocking against your own hand, so close you could scream, but the orgasm stays just out of reach. Like a door that won't open. Like a sneeze that won't come.

You try for ten minutes. Twenty. An hour.

By the time you give up, you're trembling, drenched in sweat, nearly crying with frustration. Your whole body feels like an exposed nerve. The sheets beneath you are wet. Every movement sends sparks through you that go nowhere, build toward nothing, they just layer on top of each other until you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin,

You have to tell him.

-----

You find Master in his study. He looks up when you enter, takes in your flushed face, your unsteady breathing, the way you're pressing your thighs together.

His expression shifts from curiosity to understanding to something cold.

"What did you do?"

Your confession comes out in a tumble. The box. The vial. Just a sip. You didn't know. You're sorry. You're so sorry. Help. Please.

"Come here."

Your legs carry you to him before your brain catches up. He pulls you across his lap in one smooth motion, flipping up the hem of your dress. You're not wearing anything underneath, you'd taken your panties off an hour ago, soaked through and useless.

The first spank lands hard enough to jolt you forward.

And you moan.

The pain blooms into something else entirely. Heat and pleasure tangled together, radiating outward from where his hand struck. It's almost... god, it's almost enough. You can feel yourself clenching, desperate, so close...

But not quite. Never quite.

"Stupid slut." His voice is stern, you realize how serious this is. Another spank, and your whole body shudders. "You went through my things. Took something that wasn't yours. And now look at you."

Spank. You whimper.

"Do you even know what that was?"

You shake your head, the tears are starting to form. You're dripping down your thighs now, so horny it's almost painful.

"It's designed to make girls like you into dumb little nymphomaniacs. Desperate. Aching. Unable to think about anything but being filled." Another spank, and you sob with how good it feels, and how useless the goodness is. "But it doesn't let you cum. That's the point. It keeps you right at the edge, wanting and wanting and wanting. Until it's all you'll ever want."

"Can you fix it?"

"There's nothing I can do. You just have to wait it out. A few hours, maybe more." His hand rubs over the hot skin of your ass, almost soothing, and you push back into it helplessly. "You did this to yourself."

Spank. You're crying now, trembling, every nerve ending screaming.

"I can't even use you like this," he says, and there's genuine regret in his voice. "If I fucked you while it's in your system, it would lock the changes in place. Permanently." His fingers trail down, brushing against your slick folds. "You'd be like this forever. Brain gone, dripping out your cunt. Just a mindless, needy thing."

The sound you make isn't quite human.

"You wouldn't want that, would you?"

You should say no. You know you should say no.

But his fingers are still touching you, light as a feather, and your hips are chasing the contact without your permission, and the thought of being like this forever... never having to think about anything but the ache between your legs and the man who controls whether it ever gets satisfied...

"Answer me."

"No," you whisper. "No, I wouldn't want that."

He hums, unconvinced.

"Liar." Another spank, hard enough to leave a mark. "But that's okay." He pulls you upright, settling you on his lap so you can feel exactly how much your desperation affects him. "There's plenty of time for me to get the truth out of you."

You nod, shaking, still crying, still aching.