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"Let it out, sin," I urged. "Don't you want to show me how dirty you can be?"
She shook her head, her wet hair flying through the air.
"Would you rather show me what a good girl you can be, hm?"
Now she hesitated, probably suspecting a trap in my question. So I let my hand slide between her thighs and traced a finger over her wet lips. From front to back and back again, without parting them or focusing on any one spot. She felt so damn soft that I had to close my eyes for a second. Just because she was already so wet for me, she deserved to come again and again and again. To feel my fingers, my tongue, and my desire until she eventually begged for it to end.
"Do you want to be my good girl?" I repeated, my finger briefly circling her clit.
Her eyelids fluttered. "Yes, Daddy."
That was it. I had what I wanted. Her submission after she had defied me.
"Then confess. All your twisted, sick little fantasies, sin."
Unprompted, she made eye contact, looking at me so intensely that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Do you really want to hear how much I'm enjoying this? That I like the way you're handling me?"
My nod confirmed it for her.
"I love it when you use me like the good little slut I am, you know? And I am so fucking needy for your cock. Use me. Fuck me hard. So hard my brain shuts off and I'm nothing more than your favorite fuck toy. Fill me up with your warm cum, Gray.Paint me yours." I had never heard a more eloquent plea urging me to indulge my breeding kink.
"My good girl." I felt the relief of those words physically, immediately reaching for the rope and helping her untie it.
"Still green," she let me know. This wasn't an attempt to push her to say another color. As long as we stayed in the green zone, everything was okay—and I would continue to make sure of that.
And because we had discussed everything beforehand, Amelia also knew what would follow. With a nod of her chin, she gestured toward a workbench. I took off my shirt, tossed it to her, and followed her. Before she climbed onto the wooden surface, she spread out the shirt, disregarding the fact that it was soaking wet.
Invitingly, she opened her thighs for me.
"May I…" she began, her hands already on my belt.
"No. You can open it and pull it down. Nothing more."
Amelia frowned but did as instructed, her eyes now lowered to my erection. "My eyes are up here," I reminded her.
Immediately, her gaze shot up. "Maybe I prefer looking at your cock and dreaming about how it feels inside me?"
"Is that what you were imagining earlier when you touched yourself in the middle of the woods?"
"No… I imagined you using me. Tying me to your bed at home, fucking me, and then going to work, only to come back eventually to have some fun and then disappear again. But of course, I wouldn't want to give you any ideas for future play."
"Of course not," I growled, grabbing her neck to pull her to the edge of the bench. Her hand closed around my cock, positioning it correctly.
Before penetrating her, I grabbed her legs and draped them over my shoulders.
"Touch yourself," I commanded her, pressing my tip against her entrance.
A soft whimper escaped her.
"Remind me again what you want?"
"Fuck me… please?"
"How about full sentences?"
"This is torture!"
"It could also be called training," I mused, while Amelia thrust her hips toward me but failed to impale herself on my cock.
