A harsh slap on her open pussy brings her back from the edge. "No, no, not yet," I sneer, and she slumps in frustration. "You have a lot more exercises to do." With that, I lower the brush to her twat, and tell her that she must take 24 strokes with it on her clit and NOT come. I delight in watching her face as I begin. The determination she displays during the first few strokes is soon replaced by a fear, a horror that she will not be able to hold back. As I reach 15 (counting all the while in her ear). Peggy starts to shudder. At 20, her wanton hips are bucking, thrusting, striving to get just that little bit more pressure that will send her into that place she so avidly seeks. "Control, little slut, control." I whisper, as the last four strokes bring her again almost, but not quite, over the edge. As I remove the brush, my fingers slam into her gushing cunt twice, just to soothe the ache there. "You've almost earned it, bitch, just a little more." Peggy...

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