Page 109 of Savage Don

“It’s… it’s just a key…” Francesca notes, when she sees what’s inside the plush little box.

The bronze key glimmers dully beneath the dim bedroom lights as I take it out and set the box aside.

“Would you like to see what it unlocks?” I ask.

A heavy gulp passes through Francesca’s tender throat, but she fights against the fear and decides to respond with some fire instead.

“That’s what the deal was,” she says.

“The deal was that you could see what was inside the boxes, not what they lead to.”

“Don’t play games with me, Raymond. Get on with it.”

Raymond. The sass makes me so hard that my dress pants could split down the seams.

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Francesca won’t be able to hide her unease for much longer. It will dissolve against my wicked desire. Still, I try to savor the state she’s in now. The fire in her words singes the hair on my body and quickens my already racing heart. Slowly, I lead her towards the closet.

“There’s nothing interesting in here,” Francesca notes, trying to project an air of confidence. But her words are nothing more than wind. This is a little girl listening to ghost stories around a campfire, desperately trying to laugh off the dread that’s quickly wrapping around her heart.

The conflict I sense inside of her intoxicating. And it only makes her seem all the more innocent; all the more delicious.

“Just you wait and see,” I tease her, licking my lips.

Shoving aside a row of her hanging clothes, I duck into the closet and press an open palm against a very subtle depression in the back wall.

Just like that, it clicks open, a secret doorway revealed.

Francesca gasps.

“What’s in there?” she asks, unable to hide the quiver in her voice any longer.

“Your prize.”

It only takes one solid shove to push through the hidden door. With a smooth, unbroken motion, it swings aside, revealing the darkness inside.

A dark dungeon, filled with sinful toys.

And in the middle of it all is a St. Andrew’s cross.

That’s what I’ll be tying my little princess to.

“Oh my god…” Francesca whispers.

“Are you satisfied yet?” I ask, giving her an out as I step inside the sex dungeon and trace my fingers along the varnished wooden X.

“… What is that?” Francesca asks. Her voice has never sounded so tiny.

When I turn around, I see that she’s still standing in the closet, her bare feet digging into the soft carpet.

She looks so fucking gorgeous. So innocent and pure.

Do I really want to corrupt that?

Yes. Desperately.

The straps of her red dress have already slipped down around her shoulders. Her pretty olive cheeks are flushed pink. Her dark raven hair flows down her back, still perfect, while her hazel eyes shimmer beneath the closet light.