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He was helpless to whatever she wanted to do — his feet up above his ears, his hands restrained. All he could do was lay there and let her do what she wished.
It was exactly what he wanted.
“No closing your eyes. Look at me. I want toseeyou while my fingers invade your ass.”
Her finger penetrated his ass, and it was as if he could feel her sinking into his psyche, into his heart. Not ten seconds later, a second finger joined the first, and he groaned when she squeezed the base of his cock. “You aren’t thinking of coming, are you, Kyle?”
“No, Ma’am. Not unless you give me permission.”
“That’s right.”
She removed both hands, and he lifted his head to see what she was doing, but he couldn’t, so he rested his head back on the leather of the padded bondage table.
He wasn’t certain what’d gotten into her, but he had no complaints, and he probably owed Marcus dinner somewhere nice.
Something was at this ass again, hard and smooth — not a finger. He focused on staying relaxed and accepting it into him, whatever it was. He also held eye contact this time without being told.
Whatever she was pressing into him got wider, and wider, until it was about to pass the point of being uncomfortable, and then it suddenly seated itself in his ass. A plug, then.
It wasn’t so bad — until it started growing. Spreading him wider, and wider.
He closed his eyes and groaned.
“Uh. Uh. Uh. Open your eyes.”
He opened them and looked at her, and she twisted something again, enlarging it even more. “I think that’s enough for now, but it’ll probably get bigger, later.”
The thing about expanding plugs, as opposed to inflatable ones, is that the petals invariably press on the prostate, making orgasm control a whole new level of hell.
He didn’t complain though, and she leaned forward, kissed his nose, and then climbed off the table.
She released his ankles, put his feet on the table, soles down, with his knees bent.
“Your legs will need to be straight later, but if you can bend your knees now then your back won’t start hurting later.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Marcus either made his submissives comfortable so they could last longer, or purposefully kept them uncomfortable. Would Heather always seek for his comfort, or would she sometimes want to bind him into contortions?
She walked to his head and lifted herself onto the table enough she could kiss the side of his forehead. “You’re most welcome. This is us, too, isn’t it? Another version of us?” She bounced herself backwards so she was standing on the floor again. “I love you, Kyle. All of you.”
* * * *
Marcus looked in on them from the doorway, and realized he was envious of their relationship. Not jealous, not even a tiny bit — he was happy for them, but he wanted his own submissive to care for, to hurt, and to love.
He had strong feelings for both Heather and Kyle, but he didn’t see how he could be part of their relationship long term.
Heather turned and walked towards him, and he tried to wipe what he hoped wasn’t too pensive a look off his face. “You ready for me, my saucy little Spitfire?”
“Yeah, and we’ll talk about that look later.”
“I just enjoy watching the two of you. It’s the definition of a healthy, loving power exchange.”
“Right, and I’m the Queen of England. Are you okay to do this? If not, it’s okay.”
“If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t be here. Aren’t you supposed to be sitting on Kyle’s face for this part?”
“I am, but I’d like you to kiss me, first.”
Marcus started to ask if she needed him to prove he wanted to be there, but then decided to simply show her how he felt. He walked to her and kissed her forehead, then leaned to kiss her neck as gently as he could. He pulled back, looked into her eyes, and leaned down to give her the kind of kiss a Dom gives his submissive. Lips controlling lips, hand on the back of her head, tongue pushing in andtakingher mouth.
