Here's the chapter with a line gap (empty line) after every period:
I glared at the violet-haired woman, my voice hoarse as I rasped, "Get me out—I came already!"
Her lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"There's a time limit," she said, her tone maddeningly calm.
"Your ass stays in that wall for 15 minutes, no matter how many times you climax. It all counts as one in this package."
My eyes widened in disbelief—more was coming, whether I wanted it or not.
Before I could protest, I felt fingers tracing my ass cheeks, a gentle stroke that sent a shiver up my spine.
Then a warm tongue lapped at my pussy, teasing my clit with slow, deliberate flicks.
The sensation was electric, a soft pleasure that erased the earlier pain, my body humming with need.
The violet woman rose, her hands finding my nipples, teasing them with light pinches before groping my breasts.
The dual assault—tongue on my clit, hands on my chest—washed over me in pure, unadulterated bliss, my breath quickening as the pleasure built.
I was teetering on the edge, my thighs trembling, a tight coil forming in my core, when the tongue vanished.
A faint chuckle echoed from beyond the wall, leaving me hanging, desperate and unfulfilled.
My pussy throbbed, abandoned at the brink, and I shot a furious glare at the woman.
She smirked, taunting, "Did your pussy just get left behind when you needed it most?"
I clenched my teeth, rage mixing with frustration.
For a moment, nothing happened, the silence amplifying my need.
Then I felt something rest on my ass cheek—a faint tug on the butt plug as someone tested it, only to give up with a soft grunt.
Next, a rubbery tip brushed through my pussy juices, slick and cool, before sliding inside.
The thrusts were gentle, not the rough pounding I'd expected, but the slow rhythm still stirred a deep pleasure.
My nipples were stroked in time with the motion, each touch sending sparks through me, pushing me back toward that edge.
My body rocked, the coil tightening again, my breaths coming in short gasps as I neared orgasm—when suddenly, the strap-on pulled out.
The hole in the wall widened, the 15 minutes up, and I toppled forward.
The violet woman caught me before I hit the ground, her grip steady.
The popup flashed: 60 silver coins credited.
My mind raced—60 coins again, not per climax, but per act.
They were paying me for each thing done to me, not the finish line.
My pussy throbbed, needy and unsatisfied, the buildup still pulsing through me.
Instinctively, I reached down, rubbing myself, desperate to tip over that edge.
But the violet woman's hand snapped around my wrist, yanking it back.
With a swift click, she cuffed my hands behind me, the metal cold against my skin.
"You're not allowed to do that," she said, her voice firm.
My thighs clenched, muscles straining as I tried to grind against nothing, seeking any friction to stimulate my clit.