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“Your hair. I want to wrap it around my cock.”
“I mean, sure.”
She still seems afraid, a little…unsure. My cock likes that. Why should Dom be the only one to intimidate her?
Does she think I’m weak, too?
I start to undress, and when I’m naked, except for my watch, I walk over to her. I sit her on the bed by pressing her shoulders down, and then I wrap her hair in my fist.
I drape it over my aching length and hiss when the silky strands brush over it. “I love your hair,” I murmur. “Can I brush it?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
Her voice catches, and I remember the other night, how she really seemed to like the idea of us treating her as our precious doll. Maybe this is her kink, and she just doesn’t know it.
I walk to the dresser and grab the large, flat paddle brush. It’s got a thick, round handle, and as I grip it, I get an idea. Heading back to Mackenzie, I gently brush her hair. I take my time and keep sifting my fingers through it, enjoying the silky feel of the strands.
She shivers when I run my fingers over her scalp. “Is that nice?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says softly.
Her nipples are peaked in her top. “Mackenzie, naughty girl. You’re not wearing a bra. Were you going to go out like that?”
“No, of course not. I’ll change before class.”
“Okay, I will let you off. Still, you have been naughty.”
“How?” She pouts at me.
I laugh. “Oh, come on. Letting Tino keep you all night to himself in that motel room? Letting Dom stay the night. I get that we’re all free and easy with this thing between us, but when is my turn, Kukla?”
“How did you know Dom spent the night? He told you?”
“He didn’t need to. Call me psychic.”
She frowns but doesn’t argue. I toss the hairbrush to one side and pull her top off, freeing her delectable tits. Her nipples are peaked, and I pinch them both, hard.
She gasps and glances up at me. “It’s going to be like that, is it?”
“My Kukla will be taken care of and made all pretty and perfect again, but first, I will make such a mess of you.”
She swallows. I glance around her room. I want her restrained for this. Pity I don’t have my ties on me. I let go of her nipples, which I’m still playing with, and stroll over to her drawers. I open them and rummage around.
“Hey,” she says. “Those are my things.”
“I want something like a tie,” I say.
“I don’t have any ties. Why? What for?”
My fingers brush over something silky, and I pull one of those slim, silk scarves women tie around their throats out of the jumble of clothing. I find another and smile to myself.
“I am going to tie your wrists to the headboard,” I tell her.
“Oh, no. I don’t think so.”
“Trust me. You will love it.” I lift her chin. “I swear. I’m going to blow your mind.”
She laughs. “Oh, God, you Devils will be the death of me.”
