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I lift my hair, giving him access to my neck, as he locks the diamonds attached to the collar of the dress.
I let my hair fall down my bare back, and he pulls at the chain of diamonds attaching the dress to my waist.
“Bastard,” I squeak, the feeling of the dress tightening around my sore breasts cutting off my voice.
“I’m just getting you wet,” he murmurs behind me, focused on his actions.
“I don’t want to get wet,” I grunt back.
“But you’ll still do it for me, won’t you?”
It’s not like I have much control over my body.
Walking around me, he kneels on the floor between me and the mirror. He grabs a satin heel and helps me slide my foot inside. It’s an ankle strap pump, and the chain is made of diamonds. Please, let those ones be fake. I’m going to have to be insured for the night if he keeps dressing me in expensive shit. To do the other one, he finally unlocks the cuff around my ankle, and a sense of relief crashes over me. That thing makes me feel claustrophobic.
When he stands back up, he puts a hand on my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
I look away, not wanting to participate in anything that would make my heart betray me more than it already has.
Before I know it, he’s back behind me, lifting my dress all the way to my waist.
“I just spent hours getting ready. Do you really want to ruin it all?”
“I like the my-husband-can’t-stop-touching-me look on you. You’ll wear something for me tonight.”
“I’m already wearing your stupid dress.”
He spreads my legs with a tap of his foot, and that’s when I notice something in his other hand.
“What—”
“Put your foot on the stool.”
I eye the small cushioned stool next to us.
He drags what looks like thin metal down to my stomach and to my mound. It’s about as thick as a hairpin, and it’s already warm from being against my skin.
“This can be pleasurable, Kayla, baby. Just be a good girl and it won’t hurt.”
“What is it?” I panic, but at the same time, I lift my foot, letting the heel rest on the stool.
“Have you ever heard of a clit clamp?”
My heart stutters. I haven’t, but it’s pretty self-explanatory.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice is dead, my body giving up as he kisses my neck.
“Because I know how wet you’ll be when I finally push my cock into you later tonight, and I’m doing us both a favor by doing this.”
I watch him rub my clit, making it swell from his skillful touch, and he then softly pinches it with dexterous fingers.
“Fuck,” I pant.
“That’s good, baby. Now, this thing is adjustable.”
He finally shows me what he’s holding. I was right, it looks exactly like a gold hairpin, except it’s not as tight as one, and it has a small bar you can slide along to adjust how tightly it pinches your clit.
“So,” he explains as he puts it in place at the base of my clit, “if you’re good, it doesn’t have to be so tight, right? Just enough to hold. And if you misbehave tonight...” He adjusts the clamp, tightening it.
