"Don't go slower! Honey! I'm so horny! Go faster, faster,"
Prince Thomas ignored her request and kept slowing down the tempo of the brush. He got it down to the point where it was practically sitting there in her vagina waiting to be moved. In fact, on one of the other trips up and down the fold, he stopped the bush right at the top and slowly traced it vertically in and out of the topmost skin. At the touch of this, Antoinette went into her deep, guttural moans that he always loved to hear when they were screwing.
"Ooh! Oh! Oh my God, my Lord! My dear! Oh my Lord," was all that she could keep saying as each vertical stroke brought her closer and closer to steamy orgasm.
He kept doing it as she kept gasping and moaning, now almost at the top of her lungs. It was a wonder that one of the other countrymen from the first ranks didn't come running in because of the noise. If anyone did hear what was going on, they apparently wanted to keep it hush-hush. As he continued to torture the top of her vaginal fold, she stretched her legs farther apart, vying for more air to pass through the unoccupied parts of the fold not yet tormented by the bush. Just when she thought that a particular area wouldn't be tormented, there the brush was, striking, rubbing and pleasing her, making the insides of her sex scream with excitement.
While the Prince had been stroking the top of her organ with the bush, the speed of this attempt had gotten faster to the point where fluids were now coursing in vast amounts through her stomach and groin, past her ovaries and down to the bay to be released at any moment. The brushing now went back to the original up-and-down motion, coursing the fluids further through her, stopping at the brim of coming out as discharge. As she tried to settle back down, jabs of pleasurable pain kept coursing through her, the stinging tickle of the bush now gave her piercing, painful orgasmic feelings with every tickle. The Prince took this as a sign to get slower in tickling her, as if he had been reading the fear in her mind. The slower he went, the sharper the stings of orgasm got. It got to the point where the pleasurable pain in her vagina was spreading to her inner groin and stomach. The Prince got to a practical standstill with very slow, tantalizing, nail-biting micro-movement. She was past screaming. She was howling so loud that people out in the field could hear her throat-tearing squawks. As the Prince got slower and slower with the swiping bush, brushing her now-vibrating clitoris, she bucked up and down. This motion only forced her closer to the edge. The piercing vaginal spasms were so sharp, they made her sick to her stomach.
Two minutes later, she was bucking up and down when one last gust of orgasmic pain coursed through her vagina. She stopped, tears welling up and spilling from her eyes. She was sobbing as the pain got so bad and the liquids were so close to spitting out, it almost made the Prince stop in his tracks. However, no. He kept going. One more strike of the bush in her vaginal fold and she went over the top, spitting up all her pent-up discharge as her clit and other vaginal sub-organs swelled to maximum capacity and vibrated more violently than ever, forcing the most painful orgasm out that she had ever experienced. As she went over the edge, she cried, "Oh no!" in a slow and oddly pleasurable and desperate voice. He kept whisking the brush in and out as the discharge from her vagina piled up and spilled over onto the sheets another blankets. The pain swelled into a tantalizing itch as the last of the semen coursed out, causing her to gasp and breathe back in rapidly, as if trying to hold another throat-tearing, blood-curdling scream in. Five minutes later, her vagina was still vibrating, lightly pulsing up and down, this time without being lavishly provoked and prodded by the bush. The Prince got down off of her and undid her ropes. They both stood up and after a minute of staring at each other without a word, they kissed one last time before sleeping the night off.