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"Undress me, princess," he commanded as he pulled his thumb out of my mouth. My breath stuttered when he gave me a tiny encouraging smile, and a wide grin settled on my face. Finally, I could explore that strong, delicious body.
I put my cuffed hands on his chest, enjoying his hard muscles and thinking about how I would kiss him when I took his shirt off. I moved my fingers to the third button when he stopped me by grabbing my forearms.
"That would be too easy, baby girl," he whispered, looking down at me when I raised my head, giving him a confused pout. "Undress me with your mouth."
I took in a sharp breath, staring at him, only to see that he was absolutely serious about his words. So, I leaned closer to him, breathing in his manly scent combined with an expensive cologne. I pressed my palms against his chest, taking the button between my teeth. With a little help from my tongue and some manoeuvering, I managed to open it. With another three, I was done in maybe a minute, but the one that was located just above his pants was hard to get to. Finally, I took it in, supporting it with my tongue, but I just couldn’t unbutton it. The fastest thing was to bite it off, and I did exactly that.
"What…" Mr Thorn’s surprised tone would probably make me laugh, but I didn’t want to swallow the small white thing. I straightened to my full height, sticking my tongue out to proudly show him what I had done. He raised one of his eyebrows at me, taking the button and shaking his head.
"I hope you know how to repair it, princess," he sighed, faking sadness. "It’s my favourite shirt."
"You have fifty of them in the closet," I replied quickly, unsure how to sew a button. I haven’t done it since secondary school.
"Exactly. They are all my favourites," he said, looking expectantly at me.
"No." I slightly shook my head as he narrowed his eyes at me.
"No?" he echoed as I continued to shake my head.
"No, sir," I confirmed. "I’m your princess." I touched the baby pink collar on my neck to underline my statement. "Princesses don’t work with thread and needle."
"Hm." He frowned, studying the button in his hand for a moment, then put it on the counter. "Good point, sweetheart," he muttered, returning his attention to me. "Thinking about it, we should end this lesson." He gave me an apologetic look, and my heart sank. "Princesses don’t serve because serving would make them servants or even slaves," he explained, and I blinked a few times, realising he was using my own words against me.
What an impossible man!
"What if I want to be your slave sometimes?" I asked, seductively winking at him, and he chuckled.
"I can treat you as one," he answered, putting his large hand on the back of my head, fisting my hair. "However, what if you end up begging for mercy?" It was a rhetorical question, and that crazy evil grin, which I was slightly scared of, appeared on his face, sending chills down my spine. A mix of excitement and fear settled in my stomach. The thunder in my chest intensified. I didn’t know what a slave meant to him, but judging by the look he was giving me, he liked that idea very much.
Before I could react to his words, he pushed me down to my knees, and I faced his groin, staring at the bulge in front of my face with wide eyes.
"That’s the right position for a slave," he stated sternly, making my insides quiver. "Continue with your task," he ordered, and I looked at the open buckle on his belt. With my trembling hands, I put it to the side, working the button on his pants. It was a quick job, and then I moved down the zipper with my face pressed against his cock. Between me and his manhood were only his boxers, and the smell of fabric softener, sandalwood, and his natural scent hit my nose.
"Use your hands," he commanded, interrupting my concentration. I grabbed the hem of his pants and, along with his underwear, pulled them down to his ankles. He stepped out of it, and I took off his socks as well. He was finally naked, and I leaned closer in an attempt to take his cock into my mouth when he grabbed me by my hair again and lightly slapped my cheek, taking me completely by surprise.
"Who allowed you to touch me?" He raised his voice, and I gulped.
"I’m sorry, sir," I whispered, breathing hard. His strictness was frightening and arousing at the same time. I craved more of it, yet I was concerned I might end up with a bruised bottom like a real slave. And the idea wasn’t as disturbing as it should be.
"Do it again, and I’ll remind you of your place," he threatened. His hard expression made me frisson with the expectation of what could possibly happen.
"I’m here to serve, sir," I breathed, obediently opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out, looking innocently at him. He half-smiled, taking his erect cock into his palm and pointing at me with it. I genuinely believed he would push it inside, and I could enjoy it, but he only touched my tongue with the tip, stopping me with his hand in my hair when I wanted more of him.
"You must earn it,slave," he said the last word louder, and it resoundedin my ears, confusing me. I felt a weird tingling in my lower abdomen, intensifying every passing second while I was in the slave role. It was completely new to me, and I never expected to be turned on by humiliation or degradation. Shit! It was a new level of craziness, and my head span from it.
Thankfully, Mr Thorn didn’t pay attention to me and stepped into the bathtub, submerging into the water. I thought he would say something about the temperature, but he stayed quiet, closing his eyes and relaxing. I was watching him from a distance, wanting to be closer to him, but I didn’t dare to even move.
I was in unexplored territory. I didn’t know what could take place if I did something he didn’t command. I'd rather have waited for him to say something. The excitement of the unknown was playing with my feelings, and my submissive nature also wanted to please my sir in the best way possible. Of course, I could tease him a little, but first, I wanted to find out what the consequences could be. I saw a porn movie of a slave in a dungeon, and it was something I wasn’t prepared to go through.
My eyes were glued to Mr Thorn’s face. His mimic muscles were free of tension, and his handsome features looked like they were the awesome work of a talented sculptor. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I desired to touch his cheek with my fingers, to taste the difference between his smooth skin and the two-day-old stubble on his jaw. I wanted to tenderly kiss his forehead, to wash his short black hair; I craved everything about him.
"I’ve got myself a drooling slave," Mr Thorn spoke out of the blue, and I winced, waking up from my daze about licking his body from head to toe. "Life is just perfect," he chuckled, with his eyes still closed.
"H-how…" I stuttered, frowning at him. I felt blood rushing to my face like every time he caught me staring at him.
"I know you, princess," he answered, still grinning.
"Won’t you tell me that I can’t laugh?" I teased a little when I noticed he was peeking at me with his one eye, chuckling.
