Every sinew was stretched. Her back delicately arched and her shoulders screamed with silent tension as they surrendered to the demands of the rope. One limb, one corner. The four poster bed dominated the space. Its place, dead centre, gave the room its purpose. There would be no resting here, no hiding. The perimeter of the room was a walkway around that bed and tonight, she was the exhibit.
“Would you like to play a game, my sweet?”
She watched him, warily. He’d paused at the foot of the bed, directly in front of her splayed wet pussy. He hadn’t even touched her yet, other than tying the bonds.
“What kind of game?”
He chuckled and continued his circling.
“One I think you will like...” His voice floated from somewhere behind her head.
She sighed.
“Okay,” she agreed, quietly.
Why bother? She’d long since given up the pretence of wholesomeness where he was concerned. He’d taken her vanilla, missionary sensibilities and torched them with the flame of the first candle he’d used to melt the wax he’d then dripped on her breasts, drop by sizzling drop. When he’d finally stuck the remaining candle in her dripping snatch and fucked her to an ear-shattering orgasm, she’d accepted the pain had been a turn on as much as anything else.
“This game… it’s a numbers game. Do you like to play the odds?”
He was pacing slowly, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his perfectly sculpted mouth. She loved that mouth, knowing intimately what it was capable of. He glanced over at her, eyebrow cocked.
“Well?”
“Twist,” she smirked, and his eyes flared. She found physical submission much easier than mental. That, he had to earn.
“Excellent choice,” he said softly, stopping once again between her outstretched legs. “The rules are simple. Five smacks to that wet cunt, followed by five seconds of me rubbing that needy clit. Five seconds of rest time, then it starts all over again.”
She waited. There was always more.
“If you cum from the pain, I’ll eat that tasty cunt until you’ve lost count of how many times I’ve sent you over the edge.”
She shivered.
“And if I cum from the pleasure…?”
He smirked right back at her.
“I have a friend who’s been longing to meet you. If you cum from the pleasure, he’ll be here exactly one hour after you climax.”
She glared, defiantly. He’d been hinting for a while he wanted to share her and she’d always demurred, but she hated backing down from a direct challenge.
“Deal,” she agreed quietly. God help her.
No longer distracted by his words, she became aware of just how wet she was. Bound, there was no hiding it. What was the point anyway? They both knew what he did to her – it was why she kept coming back for more. He’d taken everything she’d thought she knew about herself and thrown it out the door, replacing it with a wanton needy slut she sometimes barely recognised. She couldn’t thank him enough.
