“Good,” he breathed. “Look at how far we’ve come. It wasn’t that long ago I’d have you going all to pieces on me just for a little tie-up. But you’ve learned I can be good to you, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she breathed.
“And you’ve learned I don’t have to be, too.”
The answering shiver, nervous and aroused and eager, jerked through the leather strap of the belt tied at her throat. “Yes, sir.” Her voice was barely audible.
For the man who can have anything, she’s the perfect plaything. But he’s not who she thinks he is, and the more she comes under his spell, the less he’s willing to pretend.
Reader Advisory: This story is part of a series intended for mature audiences only and which features intensely erotic situations, forced exhibition, public humiliation, discipline, dominance, and rough sex. All characters are 18 or older.
Excerpt:
His hand left her breast and wandered downward, tracing over her abdomen, taking a detour to squeeze her deliciously tight ass, and then down over the sensitive mound of her groin. He felt her stiffen as his hand cupped her pussy, and even before his fingers were at her hole, he could feel how wet she was for him.
“So wet already, Heather?” he breathed. “Is that all because of me?”
“All, sir. I’m – I’m always wet when I’m with you.”
He had ample evidence that that was true, but it didn’t make it any less exquisite to feel her sex soaking with juices, ready for his cock whenever he wanted to take her. It never got old. Seeing the effects he had on her never, ever got old. He felt another throb in his shaft, by now standing at complete attention against the tight cloth on his crotch, but he wasn’t about to rush through this and miss out. The best part was always watching her squirm.
With a satisfying click, he opened the buckle of his belt. Heather’s hands flew to his zipper at the sound, over-eager and hopeful it meant he was about to take her. But he pushed her hands away, and instead raised the belt to her head, threading it back through itself in a loop. He heard her breath stop as she saw what he was doing. He brought it up and she bent her head slightly to let him slip it over and down to her throat, where he tightened it with an easy little flick.
It wasn’t tight enough to choke her, at least for the moment, but she wouldn’t forget it was there, that was for sure.
He reached into his pocket and found his silk handkerchief, still crisp and pressed since the morning, and put it up to her eyes. She stilled, her body taut and at attention, as he tied the little cloth off with a firm knot.
“Good,” he breathed. “Look at how far we’ve come. It wasn’t that long ago I’d have you going all to pieces on me just for a little tie-up. But you’ve learned I can be good to you, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she breathed.
“And you’ve learned I don’t have to be, too.”
The answering shiver, nervous and aroused and eager, jerked through the leather strap of the belt tied at her throat. “Yes, sir.” Her voice was barely audible.
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