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What would my whole name sound like on her tongue?
How would her body feel on my tongue?
That curious spark in her eyes had darkened to something more primal than investigative. She looked positively sinful, the pink wig teasing her chin, her eyes bright and hopeful behind her thick lashes. Her shoulders were a milky, gentle ivory and I knew that her peaks would be like some forbidden fruit. I was one of a handful of men who didn’t have some women in plaid skirts fetish. With Sin kneeling on the bed, the red pleats beckoning for me to slip my fingers beneath and discover the delights ripe for the taking, I suddenly got the appeal. I wanted to bend her over in that skirt, and nothing else, and punish her. Pleasure her. Tease her. Leave her wanting and aching for more.
She scooped her dark locks over her shoulder, twisting the bundle demurely. “And I almost wore pants tonight-”
I knew excitement was making her forget the rules, but a different kind of excitement gripped me at the opportunity to show her what happened when she disobeyed me. “Go get the cat o’ nine and bring it to me.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth and she was almost cute enough that I wanted follow up with something that wasn’t not so stern. Like a long, lingering kiss that would make her smile instead of gasp like she was in trouble.
But she is in trouble. You need to dominate and if the way her body responded to you last night is any indication, she needs to submit.
“Now, Sin,” I said darkly. “Or it will be much, much worse.”
She jumped off the bed like I’d blown a whistle, shooting toward the corner where an array of devices hung on silver hooks. She lingered at one of the paddles, but her eyes darted to the cat o’ nine whip and she snatched it, holding it up like she’d retrieved the flag for the team and the win was in the bag.
She lowered her arm slowly when she peered at what was in her clutches, then began the tentative walk towards me. She was so bold last night, grabbing me, doing her own thing, but tonight, it was a complete 180. The true test was if she’d trust me to know how much she could take. To know the moment to temper my actions before she even thought the word ‘yellow’.
Her eyes were round with worry and a fascination that made goosebumps ripple across me. She held out the whip, handle first, the leather strips stroking her fingers. I knew the look in her eyes; it was the look of fear, laced in wonder. We asked ourselves similar questions: how could pain be so arousing? How could giving pain set me free? It should be terrifying, certifiable even, these questions that I ignored because the allure of dominating was so damn delicious.
I took the whip, leather strips first, and ran the end of the handle up her arm, gently lifting her chin until she could look nowhere but my eyes.
“How should I punish you?”
Her chin trembled, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You’re asking me?” I tightened my jaw and she backtracked. “What do I even say to that? How do I want you to hurt me?” Her question was a murmur and she drew her hands up, stroking her fingertips along the shaft of the handle, knowing that I wanted to replace that handle with my cock.
She reached out and touched me without prompting or permission. Lust, and the urge to bend her over and make her obey, swallowed me whole.
“You’re still misbehaving,” I warned her. Any other sub would have fallen to their knees, begging for forgiveness or mercy, avoiding a punishment that would have surely left her aching with more pain than pleasure.
Not her.
She slid her hand down, guiding the tip of the handle down her neck. I was enraptured, and some form of appalled because there was no way she’d be that bold. There was no way she was headed where I thought she was headed.
And then she took it a step further, placing the tip between her breasts.
The smile on her face was a challenge.
Punish me, it said. I dare you.
My regular approach wouldn’t work with her. She’d dial it up and I’d follow suit. She wanted me to punish her. She wanted to push every button until she was screaming in agony and bliss and I was mad with lust and power.
Sneaky little sub.
I took hold of the whip and her eyes brightened, her smile stretching from ear to ear.
“You want me to punish you.” My voice was low, dangerous, and the fact that she wanted to play with fire made every drop of blood in me rush to my groin, engorging my cock. It was just as insolent as she was, ready to surrender. To feel her wrapped around me so tight that we both escaped; lost ourselves in the flesh and moans and passion.
No.
Not yet.
Not until I showed her who was in charge.
“You want me to spank you?” I asked her, moving closer, grinning to myself when she took a step back, realizing that the beast she wanted to unleash might bite a little harder than she anticipated.
I combed my fingers through her midnight locks, holding her steady. Roping and tugging the strands just sharp enough that she gasped, her lips rounding because she realized I meant business.
