Four of your fingers are in my mouth, deep, holding my tongue flat. I’m salivating freely, drooling, and your thumb is under my chin, your grip on my jaw is firm and unrelenting. My face is smeared with your precum having had your weeping cock rubbed all over it, I am unable to speak, begging you with my eyes, begging for everything, for anything. The searing heat of my clamped nipples is reaching fever pitch and my sodden cunt is throbbing as your other hand tugs the clothes pins that line my labia. I’m moaning and writhing as you pull your fingers from my mouth and rub the wetness of them on my lips and chin and cheeks. I can feel myself flush at the humiliation of it. You’re showing me, silently, wordlessly just how much you are fully in control. Your fingers thrust into my mouth again, my jaw in your grip and your other hand begins to slowly pull and push my clit up and down. Softly wiggling it, sliding the pads of your middle and index fingers along the sides of it, petting and stroking lightly, barely touching me at some points. It takes nothing for me to get to the edge. I’ve already squirted multiple times, my pussy overflowing at the deep, hard jerks of your fingers in it. I’m primed and you know it. As the orgasm looms I begin to beg, my frantic “please?!” muffled by your fingers. I beg you over and over, my eyes fixed on yours, your face is calm and stern and the sureness you project makes me more frantic. Usually you’d speak plainly and say “yes” or perhaps whisper to me to be a good girl and cum for you. But this time, your lips don’t move, your eyes don’t change, you simply watch me beg and come undone as your hand between my legs presses harder, strokes faster and you force me to cum without granting permission. You are relentless. You are merciless. I am howling unintelligibly around your fingers, thrashing and cumming and soaking your hand but you don’t stop until you are finished. You have wrenched three complete orgasms from me by the time your fingers curl gently into me and the heel of your hand rests on my mound, holding me, softly. Your other hand leaves my mouth and again, for good measure you slather my face with my own drool and cup my cheek in your palm. Only then do you smile, and I know I’ve done you proud.