Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He threw down his phone with that smile again. Why was he so damn happy today, when he’d been such a bastard the session before? Not that I trusted that smile, or even believed it signaled happiness. It might just as easily signal disaster.
He reached in his briefcase and pulled out a blindfold. Damn it.
“You should be resting,” he chided in his evil-Dom voice. “Maybe this will help.”
I shook my head, for all the good it did me. He circled my head with the black length of silk and tied it a bit to one side, so I wouldn’t be resting my head on the knot.
The darkness and helplessness took me right back to our first session, to the nerves and WTF feelings that had consumed me. I wanted to tell him about those feelings but I couldn’t. I just wanted to say one word: Remember? But I didn’t dare. I hated being gagged, and I couldn’t bear it on top of the bondage and blindness. I made a soft, urgent sound instead, and was rewarded with a slap on the cheek.
“Quiet,” he said.
That was it. Quiet, and then he left me to stew in my horny, dark world, wondering what would come next. More slaps? More face fucking? Nipple clamps? My legs were tied together, which kind of limited what he could do to me fucking-wise.
As I lay there, still and bound, I listened for his movements. I listened for the door (I didn’t want him to leave) and the zipper of my purse (I didn’t want him to root through it) and the sound of his clothes hitting the floor (because that probably meant something else was going to happen). I listened and waited but I heard nothing for long minutes. Was he playing on his phone? Looking out the window? Staring at me?
I thought he was probably staring at me. He’d trussed me up on the bed, his whore-in-waiting, and now he was studying me, thinking up the best ways to screw with my head. His silence frightened me.
Why was I here, allowing myself to be terrified? Why did I let him take over me this way? But I knew why. For the orgasms. I didn’t drool earlier because of his beautiful body, but because my body remembered what his body could do.
At last I heard movement and—yes!—the whisper of clothes being pulled off and thrown over the chair. I heard him take steps toward the bed and stop. He tugged at the rope holding my legs and then released the tether point. He unwrapped my lower legs, then ran his fingers along the places the rope had been. I drew in a breath as he caressed my sensitized flesh. How could his barest touch make my whole body shudder?
I pressed my legs together, dreading the next touch but wanting it too. I wanted to protect those vulnerable parts between my legs but I also wanted him to force my thighs open and take me, because no one else made me feel the way he did.
“Why are you shaking?” he asked, running a hand over my tensing muscles. “You’re allowed to talk now. I want to hear what you’re feeling.”
“I’m scared,” I said. “I’m worried. I don’t know what you’re going to do next.”
“Ah, but you don’t have to know. That’s the fun of it. I could tell you right now what I plan to do, but then it wouldn’t be as exciting for you when I do it.”
He moved. I flinched. I felt him settle against my front, not crushing me this time, but lying above me. He pushed my thighs apart with his knees, pinning me down, not that I’d made the first attempt to escape. My arms were still tied above my head. He kissed the sensitive underside of one of my forearms. I turned my face, seeking his warmth.
“You smell so good,” he said. “Like vanilla and woman. Not that you’re very vanilla anymore. Do you like this, Chere? Do you like being tied up, subject to my every whim?”
It took me a moment to admit it. “Yes.”
“Yes, Sir,” he corrected softly.
“Yes, Sir,” I said. “I like it.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” He said it so quietly I could barely hear.
“Yes, Sir.”
I flinched when his lips contacted mine, not because he was rough, but because I didn’t know when to expect the kiss. He licked my lower lip and kissed me again, sweet and sultry. I could feel his hardening cock between my legs. I arched to him, needful, wanting. He chuckled.
“Not yet, my little plaything. My captive. Let’s make out for a while.”
Just like that I was a captive, and he was my Master, implacable and in charge. I squiggled in frustration and his arm came around my waist with a quelling sound.