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You hated this side of him. Hated and loved it because nothing quite felt like your limbs bound and stretched across the desk. Even if your eyes weren’t covered by the sash of his robe, you still wouldn’t be able to see anything faced down, ropes tied so tight that you could not move an inch from where he kept you.
There have been times he has strewn you up, tied with only the ropes digging into your bare wrists, lifted from the ground to deprive you of all sense but the pain swinging from your arms. The pain was what grounded you, kept you contained in this moment, so even as you strained to pinpoint exactly where he sat, your focus slices through the sharp edge of pain.
In the silence, the flip of each page rang in your ear, and a rush of shame heated you to your very core. You were laid out, bent over, and entirely bare to his eyes, but he chose to read that goddamn book instead of paying you any mind.
The sharp edge of the desk dug into your hip, and each sting felt like his gaze dragging itself down your core. You didn’t make a sound knowing that if he wished, he could drag this out for hours. Already has dragged it out for hours. Maybe.
How long has it been now? Five minutes? Twenty minutes? An hour? Time stretched on until you only existed in this moment, long enough until the tingle of anticipation crawled up your skin. Your legs tensed, hand lightly pulling at the rope, needy whines overtaking the silence in the room.
Alhaitham closed his book with a loud snap, the sound making you jerk against your bounds with a dull ache, the bruises already deeply embedded into your skin. “One hour and twenty three minutes. Thirty-four minutes longer this time.”
He touched you before you heard him move, a hand ghosting against your thigh, soft enough to be missed, but your deep yearning made his touch feel like a slap. Your skin ached and burned and you felt like you would go insane if you didn’t get more.
“I haven't even touched you yet and you are already drenched.” His fingers followed the trail of your slick up your inner thigh, the touch igniting a new heat that made you overflow with want.
Your whole body shuddered when he finally touched your entrance, tracing just the opening through the slicked mess of neediness that echoed through your whine.
“Grand Sage,” you moaned, your entire body aching from how tense you pulled against your bondage. He responded with a firm slap, the sting against your cheek almost enough to make you cum alone. “Please,” you begged over and over again, each word met with a spank against your ass until your skin burned red.
“What did I say?” he asked, his hand dipping into your wetness until he pressed against your clit, your cunt weeping in want and need.
“Alhaithaim, please,” you said, trying to push your hips against his fingers but the firm ropes kept you in place. Instead you whined, his name a chant on your lips like a prayer for relief.
“What would the Sages say if they saw such a highly revered scholar reduced to shambles like this?” His tongue traced your redden cheeks, moving to where his finger lay against your core. “Drunk on cock before I’ve even put it in.”
He wasted no time thrusting his thick fingers into your pussy, every movement, every action was on his own time. There was no quieting the scream that left your lips as Alhaitham immediately began a rough pace, your juices dripping down his hand.
It didn’t take long before you came, already on the edge before you were ever touched, the pleasure rushing through your desperate pleas, squirting right onto Alhaitham’s awaiting lips.
He drank you like you were a delicacy, his tongue attacking your clit. No movement was wasted, each tug of his teeth, tongue soothing the sting of pain brought more waves of pleasure, prolonging your orgasm until all you knew was his mouth.
“Entirely impractical, but if I could satiate my thirst on you, I’d keep you bound here all day.” Alhaitham’s face was drenched in your juices, moaning into your cunt as he slurped up your cum, drinking his fill of you. You weren’t sure if you ever stopped cumming, or if one just brought one after the other.
You were limp against his desk by the time he pulled away, boneless and powerless as he rose to his full height, the quiet ruffling of his clothes almost drowned out by your gasp for breath.
The head of his cock rubbed against your wetness, gathering your slick as he teased himself up and down your weeping core. You couldn’t move, almost couldn’t speak except for a high pitched whine as each thrust he made brought him an inch deeper and deeper into you until he was seated at the hilt.
One hand gathered itself into your hair, jerking your head back so he could grunt into your ear. “Brainless,” he said with a sneer. “All you have in that pretty little head of yours is my cock.”
The stinging pain from his hand brought your back to consciousness, just enough to register his fingers, dripping with your juices, shoving through your lips, the strong stench and flavor of your pussy lingering on your tongue.
“You aren’t a scholar. You are nothing more than a cocksleeve.”
He thrusted in time, his cocked buried to the hilt, fingers following the movement. He was rough, the sharpened edge of the desk rutting into your hips, the sting of his fist, the desk, was more than you could handle after hours of deprivation.
You came, harder than before if possible, and he fucked you through it, fighting against the tightening of your walls and you tried to milk him dry. But he didn’t cum, not even as the pleasure became too much and everything became black.
The first thing you noticed as you drifted back, your gaze hazy like a dream, was how free you felt. From your thoughts. From feeling. From the world. From your bondage. The next was Alhaitham as you nuzzled your face against his firm chest, sighing into his skin as you felt a kind of peace that often escaped your overactive mind.
The other was his cock, still buried deep within you, twitching as if he was crying for attention. But Alhaitham draped your limp body across his lap, arms loosely across his shoulders and one hand stroked your hair and the other scratched across the paper onto the desk you once laid bare.
Every time you flowed back into consciousness, burying your face against his chest, a twitch of your leg, made his pen pause. He’s set it down, one hand burying itself into your hair and pulling your back until he could look into your half lidded gaze. You only barely saw him, moaning at how full you were. How wet you were.
Everything felt slick, his free hand thumbing against your clit, rocking so gently against your hips, but the haze of pleasure built so slowly, so lazily, Alhaitham never let your eyes leave his. Even as you felt yourself drift back into unconsciousness, his fist tightened in your hair, the small shock of pain bringing you back to him.
He made you cum just like this, slowly building up the tension until you fell apart. He let out a low groan into your neck, thrusting just a little harder as your walls suckled in his cock. As you drifted off into sleep, he stilled his movements, draping you against him until he could pick up his pen and continue writing again.
He did this again and again and again. Until you cried from the pleasure and pain that overstimulated your senses. The only thing you knew was him. His hands stroking against your back, your hair, his cock rocking deep into you until you pass out from the pleasure again.
This time you sobbed into his neck, your entire body shaking in his lap as he held you tight against his solid frame. You shook your head, legs tightening against his hips despite the tears that streamed down your face.
“You haven’t cum yet,” you said as your watery eyes met his. His fingers softly stroked your back, up and down your spine as he stilled any other movement.
“I like being inside you. I can’t do that if I am not hard and I can’t stay hard if you keep moving. This way you are satisfied and I get what I want.” Alhaitham said it so matter of factly, almost haughtily like he didn’t just completely tear you apart piece by piece and rebuilt you to fit around him.
He gently pressed against you back, pushing you as deep as he could go before he stilled again. You cried silent tears, wetting his shoulder as you couldn’t even grasp where these tears came from, but still they continued until he quietly shushed you, one hand still trailing up and down your spine.
The other picked up his pen to continue writing, and once again you were lulled to sleep by his soft touch and the gentle scratches against the page.