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“Open your mouth.”
Whining, I complied, only to have him jam his fingers halfway down my throat. I gagged twice, but he didn’t pull back or let go of his close grip on my leash, forcing me to adjust.
“Clean up the mess you made.”
Desperate to breathe, I closed my lips over his fingers and did as he told me, tasting myself faintly even over the chlorinated water. I was too needy to think straight.
He stepped back, and I had to force my body not to follow him. It knew what it wanted even though I was disgusted with myself.
The sun was out, but it was weak this early in the morning. At least it tempered the chill wind.
He walked me to the patio furniture and bent me over the back of one of the padded wicker sofas. I put my hands out to catch myself on the seat. By the time he was satisfied with how he’d positioned me, my hips were resting on the seat back, and my toes were barely brushing the patio stones.
“Stay.” He secured my leash to something under the couch then tied my ankles to what must have been the legs. My legs were splayed wide, and with my ass in the air the way it was, I felt vulnerable, even though my hands were free. I wriggled, but I was tightly secured.
“Very pretty,” he murmured. I heard the click-whirr of an old-fashioned camera.
“What are you doing?”
“Why do you keep asking? It’s not like you can stop me,” he replied. “You like not having a choice, remember? You like being treated like a thing—my property.”
“I never said that! You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“I’m paraphrasing, but the sentiment was there when you were talking to Charity about this last night at the coffee shop. Besides, words are hardly the worst thing I’ve put in your mouth in the past few hours.”
I blushed, glad he probably couldn’t see my face from his vantage point.
His hand brushed lightly over my ass, tickling, making me shudder.
“You can’t be surprised I plan to fuck your ass.”
“But you told me you weren’t into anal.” It had come out embarrassingly high-pitched. I hadn’t done anything ass-related before, nor had I practiced or prepped.
He made a sound of disbelief. “How many times do we have to go over this, Emme? I’m not the man you were communicating with.”
That had to be part of the mindfuck. I’d never told him that anal was a hard limit, so he’d just told me he wasn’t into it, so that when he pulled a one-eighty it would put me off balance.
Right?
Or…
“Anal can be one of the more debasing, dehumanizing ways to use another human being, don’t you think? It may be vanilla, but the lingering taboo of it still makes my dick hard.” His finger strayed to my perineum, which he stroked, then drew a slow, heart-stopping trail to my asshole. He brushed back and forth over it a few times, then circled it with his fingertip, making me twitch and shiver as I clenched against the inevitable invasion.
“Please…do you have to? Can we just skip this?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Why deny myself when I can just take what I want?”
“I—I’m a…I haven’t.” I cleared my throat, trying not to squirm under his watchful gaze. I could barely see him the way I was, with my neck fastened down, my head twisted to the side, and one ear resting against the cushions.
“This gorgeous ass hasn’t been fucked before?” He tsked. “My, my. A kinky girl who’s never done anal—is this the ‘eighties? What kind of dominants have you had over the years who allowed any bit of you to stay virginal?”
“Ones who respected my limits, unlike some people.”
He snorted. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? That I don’t measure up to your exacting moral standards about proper Dom behavior? Those men didn’t give you what you needed or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I changed my mind. I want a safeword,” I blurted.
“You want? Too fucking late. Your safeword negotiations with some other man mean nothing to me.”
