My body, its rules

His name was Victor, but I wasn’t allowed to call him by his first name.
To me, he was just “Mr.”
He made it clear in the booking message:
“Your body is mine for six hours. I make the rules. You just obey. If you agree, the price is triple the regular rate.”
I accepted.
When I arrived at the luxury apartment on the 35th floor, he was already waiting for me. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit, no tie, his shirt unbuttoned at two buttons. The lighting was dim, just a few gold lamps and the city sparkling through the huge windows.
He stared at me for a long time, saying nothing at first. Then he spoke in a low, calm, but firm voice:
“Tonight, your body obeys my rules. You don’t speak unless I ask you. You don’t move unless I allow you to. Don’t finish until I tell you to. Understood?
I nodded.
He smiled slightly, almost cruelly.
“Okay. Take off your clothes. Slowly.”
I complied. I slid my black silk dress off inch by inch, letting it fall to my feet. I stood naked before him, only in my high heels. He came closer and circled me, looking at me like I was a work of art he had just purchased.
“Hands behind my back,” he ordered.
I obeyed. He grabbed my wrists with one strong hand and held them there, while his other hand slid over my breasts, squeezing them gently, then down my stomach, to between my legs. His fingers immediately found how wet I already was.
“So ready…” he murmured with satisfaction. I like it.
He led me to the bedroom. The bed was huge, with black silk sheets. He sat me on the edge and spread my legs wide.
— Don’t move.
He knelt down and began to lick me with agonizing slowness. His tongue slid slowly over my clitoris, then deep inside, then up again. Every time I felt myself getting close to orgasm, he stopped. He let me tremble, moan stifled, then started again.
After the third time he brought me to the threshold, my eyes began to beg.
He stood up, took off his shirt and pants. His member was thick, hard, pulsing. He sat on the bed and pulled me on top of him.
— Get on top of me. Slowly. I want to feel you take me inch by inch.
I positioned myself on top of him and slowly lowered myself onto him. I felt him fill me completely, stretching me. I moaned as I took him all the way. He gripped my hips tightly.
— Now move. But not too fast. I want to see you struggle not to come.
I began to move rhythmically, up and down, feeling every inch of him inside me. He looked me straight in the eyes, controlling the movement with his strong hands. Every time he felt me ​​getting closer, he stopped me or squeezed his hips tighter to keep me still.
— Not yet, he whispered. Your body is listening to me.
After almost an hour of delicious torment, when I was already soaking wet and shaking all over, he flipped me over onto my back, lifted my legs onto his shoulders and entered me deeply, in one powerful movement.
He began to take me hard, deep, without mercy. Each thrust made me scream with pleasure. His hands cupped my breasts, his fingers pinched her sensitive nipples.
“You can finish now,” he said hoarsely. “But I want you to look me in the eye when you do.”
I exploded almost instantly. The orgasm was so intense I saw stars, my body contracting violently around him. He continued to thrust into me for a few more seconds, then poured deep inside me with a long, animalistic moan, holding me against him until the last drop.
After our breathing had calmed, he pulled me into his arms and stroked my hair with unexpected tenderness.
“Your body has followed my rules perfectly,” he whispered. “Next time… the rules will be even stricter.”
I smiled weakly, still trembling.
“Then… I’ll wait for next time, Sir.”