“Dusty.” Her voice streamed from the bathroom.
Chills of excitement ran through me as I looked at the bathroom door. She’d come out any second now, wearing the first of my early Valentine’s gifts to her.
“You ready, baby?” she asked, and the doorknob clicked.
Naked, sprawled on the bed, hands and feet cuffed, I felt the thrill of losing control and the pain about to tear me when I’d see her in that corset and wouldn’t be able to touch her.
“Yes, sweetheart. Please come out,” I said, my cock already sticking up.
The lights from the bathroom spilled into the dim hotel room, and she stepped outside. My jaw dropped. My stare glued to her tits hanging out, totally naked, from the leather underbust corset tied behind her neck.
Out of instinct, I tried to get out of the bed, pictures of my mouth and my hands all over her perfect tits taking over me. Then the regret hit hard as I remembered I couldn’t move. I was glad, though. I wouldn’t have been able to stay in sub mode if I were free when she looked like this.
My tongue darted out, licking my lips as I took my time ogling her nipples before I noticed the rest of the outfit. My eyes dipped to the sweet V of her pussy covered in black lace.
Wait a sec… Are these cutout panties?
I strained my neck to check the crack I thought I saw. Yup. Holy fuck. I only got her the corset, which was more of a selfish gift on my side, but the panties were her addition.
My heart banged against my chest, my whole body burning up, and she hadn’t even come near me yet.
She stood there with a confident smirk on her face and a sparkle of satisfaction in her eyes all the time I was watching her. She wasn’t fidgeting or hiding anything. Her posture said, “Look at me. Admire my beauty while I take your breath away.”
In bed, Cammie was not the vulnerable, traumatized girl that needed my protection and reassurance. She was a woman with a twisted persona and wicked desires that made a guy like me willingly get down on his knees and ask for mercy.
She dominated me in the most beautiful way ever.
I loved both versions. The Cammie I wanted to protect, and the Cammie I was dying to submit to.
“Please come here, sweetheart,” I begged.
“I’m not your sweetheart right now.” She waved the riding crop in her hand menacingly, the perfect tool to complement her outfit.
“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry.”
She teased the sole of my foot with the crop tip and then gave it a light hit before she approached me. The crop slid up as she moved, and my cock throbbed with anticipation and excitement.
Her lips pressed on mine. Then she cropped me on the thigh. It didn’t hurt, but I groaned a little. I knew she liked it when I did. She did it again, the kiss then the crop, many times. Each time a different area. A kiss on the neck and a crop on the foot. A kiss on the stomach and a crop on the side. A foreplay designed to drive me insane in the slowest, most sensual way.
“Please, baby—” I groaned for real as her crop on my inner thigh interrupted me. It was a strong hit this time. “Sorry, Mistress. Just please get on the bed. I really need to touch you.”
A playful smirk curved up her mouth as she climbed on top of me. Her tit brushed against my face, almost in my mouth range, when she adjusted herself on my naked body.
Another calculated tease that drove a stream of pre-cum out of my cock. I tugged at the cuffs again, desperate to taste her. When I couldn’t, I stared at her hard nipples. “Please.”
She bent forward and let her tits slide down my chest with their jutted nipples, scorching me with need. My eyes rolled back. My body lifted on its own, pressing into every part of her as hard as possible.
Her kiss devoured me one more time before the crop landed on my cock. I moaned in her mouth, my body convulsing in pain. She wrapped her fist around my shaft. Instantly, the pain turned into pleasure with her strokes.
Then she leaned into me, setting the crop aside. Both her hands plunged in my hair, pulling my head to her chest. I buried my face between her tits, smelling and licking, until she ordered me to suckle her.
I did as I was told, eagerly, gladly. With each circle and flick of my tongue over her nipples, her juices moistened my stomach through the cutout panties. As her desire dripped on my skin, I grew even hungrier for her. Her eyes smoldered with a kind of fire I was well aware of now. The kind of wicked passion I craved when she enjoyed herself, immersed deeper into domme mode. It meant one thing. Foreplay was over.
She yanked at my hair, pushing my head away from her. Then her hands wrapped tightly around my neck and cock.
The squeezes, though painful, wound me up in hot arousal. My breaths and groans stopped short in my chest, but my cock grew longer. I stared at her, the wildness in her eyes, my face burning, my head pulsing, and I’d never wanted her more.
It was crazy. It was dangerous. It was painful. But it was so fucking hot.
