‘Hold it behind your back...’ I gesture to the crop as I frown over her question. ‘Call me?’
‘Yes, you know...’ She chews the corner of her lip. ‘Like sir...master...’
Lust coils tight within my gut. ‘This is your fantasy—you choose.’
She breathes in deep as she ponders, her pupils so big they squeeze out the blue. ‘Sir. I like sir.’
A thrill pulses through me...power, control, respect. All things I’m used to outside of these walls but none of which have ever left me feeling like this. High, drunk on lust.
‘Sir, it is.’ I broaden my stance. ‘Now do as I told you, Little Kitten.’
‘Yes, sir.’
My cock bucks beneath the towel. Fuck, that feels good. Too good. As does the sight of her slipping her hands behind her back, the riding crop held in her hands as her breasts thrust up towards me, their position oh, so perfect...
‘Good, Little Kitten.’ My voice is softer, the tension easing as I relax into the role. ‘Head up.’
She lifts her chin, her eyes lowered, so very submissive and it shakes me to the core. Jesus, how the fuck am I to walk away from this when we are done?
Her eyes flick up, collide with mine, and I block out the hesitancy, the split-second panic. ‘Eyes down.’
She does as I ask...of course she does... Holy mother of...
I look to the ceiling, a brief sanity-seeking second, and then I open up the leather collar in my hands, spy it tremble and know that’s all me. I breathe, try to regulate everything—my thoughts, my body, this whole situation. I study the notches in the leather, the metal buckle.
You can do this.
Granted, I haven’t done it before, but the fantasy...hell, the fantasy has been there since for ever.
I reach forward and her breath hitches audibly, her lips parting, their luscious curve drawing me in. I bow my head and kiss her, a fleeting sign of what feels too close to affection, and I break away just as quickly, concentrate instead on feeding the collar around her neck.
‘Have you done this before?’ she whispers.
No, I fucking haven’t. And as I lock eyes with her I know I can’t say it outright.
‘Eyes down, Kitten,’ I remind her and she obeys.
I reward her with an evasive answer. ‘Not quite like this.’
Her lips quiver into a smile. ‘Good.’
Good. Does that mean she’d be jealous otherwise? Or does she want us both to be new to this? Not that she’s new to it...and I hate the way that makes me feel. I ignore the twist to my gut as I loop the belt through the buckle and pull until I find a notch that is tight enough.
I want to ask her if it’s okay and stop myself. That’s not her fantasy and I know deep down that she would tell me otherwise. Instead, her cheeks flush with the heated rush I know she’s feeling. She wants this, she needs this, and I sure as hell can give it to her.
I lower myself to my knees and take up one of the clamps that dangles low down her front. She sucks in her stomach, bites into her lip, and I feel her anticipation as if it were my own. I squeeze the clamp open, brush it over one nipple, tease the tightly puckered tip and enjoy how she whimpers and sways a nanosecond before I release it. The clamp pinches into the sensitised flesh and her lips part with a sharp intake of breath, her lashes lifting as her eyes flare into mine.
I bite back the impulsive, Are you okay? and focus on the wanton heat in her gaze, raise the other clamp. I keep my eyes hooked on hers now as I tease the other nipple, circle it slowly and release. She rocks into the move, her eyes glazing over, her cheeks flushing deeper.
‘Tighter, Little Kitten?’
She nods and I raise my brows. ‘Yes, what?’
‘Tighter...’ She wets her lips. ‘Tighter, please, sir.’
I look down her body and struggle to breathe. It’s so fucking erotic, so carnal, my cock strains beneath the towel, throbbing, urgent. I raise my fingers to each screw, tightening the clamps until her eyes water and she gives me another nod. ‘Enough, sir.’
I drag in a breath, look to the heavens as I stand, and then down at her.
Holy. Mother. Of. God.
She’s there on her knees, her head upturned, her hands still holding the riding crop behind her back as her nipples, taut and tight, cling to the clamps I’ve put there. I’ve never felt such heat, such carnal longing, a sense of possession, and I’m scared of getting carried on a wave, of going too far. How do I know if she’s truly okay? How do I know when to stop?
‘Do you have a safe word?’
She swallows. ‘How about I just tell you to stop, sir?’
I nod.
Nerves skitter in my gut, my erection oscillating between so hard it’s painful, and softening with the unknown. I don’t want her knowing that this is so far out of my comfort zone, I don’t want her to get an inkling of how new this is to me. I stand tall, use my sheer size to give me the edge. I rake a hand through my hair, run my teeth over my lower lip and wrap myself in the sight of her, feel it pulse through my groin.
‘You may hand me the riding crop now, Kitten.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She offers it out and I have to fight to hold my fingers steady as the rush threatens to consume me.
‘Clasp your hands behind your back.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Don’t release them until I say.’
Jesus, her obedience is like a shot of adrenaline, a shot of ecstasy, each and every time. I walk around her slowly, my eyes taking in her entirety. She starts to turn her head to follow me. ‘Eyes to the front, Kitten.’
She does it and her cheeks flush anew, her breath hitches. I lower the crop to her hair, toy
