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“What a pathetic, little man you are.”
Vox continues to choke on his own drool, wet clicking and gurgling sounds bubbling up in his throat. He keeps looking up from his place on his knees- refusing to take his eyes off Velvette as she towers over him in her sharpest, tallest heels and shiniest leather dress.
Labored panting slows and the light of a screen starts to fade. Velvette rolls her eyes and grabs the edge of a flat face. She tips it down so all that spit can pool onto the floor between wide-spread knees. Vox hacks and coughs and eventually composes himself with one last shiver that vibrates the hand on his head.
Another time, Velvette might let him drown in his own horny spit but they've barely started the night and she’s feeling a certain kind of way that can only be satiated through some light, prolonged torture.
Velvette settles back on a heel, popping the bottom of her other stiletto just high enough that the precum beneath stretches and snaps between shoe and floor. “Keep going, Vox.”
Vox shuffles back into position eagerly- arms gripping each other behind his back, chin propping against Velvette’s cocked knee, and inner thighs splayed nearly flush with the ground as he rubs his dick against the bottom of her shoe.
She hasn't even let him take his pants off and she definitely hasn't let him cum but he’s already soaked through his fly. It's something she enjoys about one-on-one play with Vox. He’s always so wet.
“Well,” Velvette tosses a braid over her shoulder and fixes Vox with her most bored expression, “are you going to come this time or not?”
Digital eyes warp, pixelating and reforming as Vox thrusts in a sudden burst of speed. He thinks there's some window and if he can just hump his way to orgasm before Velvette counts down in her head, he’ll finally find relief after an hour of playing her game.
Velvette hasn't bothered to correct that assumption.
There's no timer. She simply waits until Vox makes that dying noise in the back of his throat and shoulders shake while polished shoes leave dark scuff marks against the tile as they squirm behind him. Then she knows it's time.
“Stop!”
She only has to raise her voice because Vox is so far gone that he doesn't process orders as clearly or quickly. But he does stop. And he sobs, face quivering and chin against Velvette's knee as he grits teeth and blinks up at her imploringly. All the while, he’s working himself up into an insane amount of spit again as his chest heaves frantically and he searches her face for clues about what he’s doing wrong and why he’s not allowed to finish. He’s both an idiot and the smartest man Velvette knows. Eventually, Vox will understand the point of the evening.
Velvette pretends to check her nails and waits until Vox calms down before squashing his perpetually hard dick beneath the tip of her shoe. He pitches forward and dumps more spit on the ground- gasping and shaking and making a delightful mess of himself. Velvette scoots her fashionable heels a little farther from the mess before offering the bottom of her foot again.
“Alright. You can try again, I guess. But I'm not going to stand around and wait for you forever.”
What she doesn't say, is that she cleared Vox's schedule for the rest of the night and, by the time she's done with him, he won't have any concept of things like time anyway.