AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The toy in my pussy buzzes and thrums, delivering pulses of ecstasy. I grind my hips, desperate for more friction, chasing that elusive climax.
“You like that, little ghost?” he asks.
“It’s not me who’s dead,” I reply from between clenched teeth.
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because—” I hesitate, my hands falling to my sides. “Stop messing with my head!”
Xero chuckles. “Because you feel pain?”
“Maybe?”
“Nothing hurts more than spending months opening up to a woman, making her the focus of my entire existence, only to discover the relationship was a sham.”
“It wasn’t?—”
“Your rival fangirl, Lizzie Bath, estimates that the creator fund paid you over two-hundred thousand dollars.”
My stomach lurches. “No?—”
“And the book deal you’re negotiating could earn you millions. You monetized our relationship.”
The noose tightens around my throat, cutting off my air. If anyone is monetizing anything, it’s Lizzie Bath. All that stupid bitch does is cosplay me, replaying my videos and adding her own bland commentary.
Now, she’s picking numbers out of her ass about how much I supposedly earned. Her videos are still online, while mine are banned. She’s the one making the fortune, not me.
I want to say all this, but the noose cuts off my air. My lungs spasm, desperate for oxygen. Transparent spots dance before my eyes, and I see the beginnings of a constellation of stars.
“Oh, God,” I moan.
“That’s right,” he growls. “I am your vengeful god, and I will feast on your agony.”
“Please!”
“You’re not slapping those tits.”
My arms flail, trying to obey this spiteful psychopath, but also fighting to keep myself upright. I slap my breast, imagining it’s his face.
The buzzing between my legs gets stronger, setting every nerve alight. I lose my balance all over again and sob.
“Come for your god, little ghost,” he rumbles.
“I can’t.”
“Now!”
My entire world condenses into the sensations building up between my thighs. The toy throbs mercilessly at my clit, while the projection inside my pussy grazes my G-spot over and over until the edges of my vision darken.
I slap my breast again, wincing at the sharp pain, only to gasp when it morphs into a pleasure that pushes me toward the precipice.
For a few tense heartbeats, my muscles seize and my entire body teeters over the edge, then the rope tugs at my neck and something inside me snaps. I come so hard that my body convulses and knocks down the chair. I hang from the ceiling, the orgasm tearing through my nervous system like a lightning storm.
Is this why the French call orgasms la pétite mort? Because I’m on the brink of death.
My eyes bulge. My vision fades to black, but my orgasm still rages. I spasm and convulse on the end of the rope until the ceiling rumbles like thunder.
Chunks of plaster rain down on my head before tumbling down in an avalanche. I hit the floorboards with a thud. The pressure of the noose eases from around my neck, and I gasp for air. Dusty particles burn my throat, and I erupt into hacking coughs.
