I had her tied down to the bed, legs open as I gave her orgasm after orgasm, all while making her count them out loud.
“How much are we at now?” I asked out of breath.
Rory raised her head weakly. “Twenty-one.”
“Hm.” I cracked my neck. “I like my shit done by fives so we going to thirty.”
“Thirty?!” Her head shot up then. “Why can’t we go to twenty-five?”
It was a trap, and she fell for it.
“You questioning me, Ms. Rodriguez?”
I smirked at her face of realization.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.
“Ass or face?”
“Ass.”
SMACK.
She reacted to it strongly with a grimace. “I think you hit the plug.”
“Damn. My bad.” I pulled it out. “Is that better?”
“Much.” Then she collapsed into the bed. “I need a second.”
Fair.
I released her restraints. “Take your time. But I want the rest of what you own me.”
“Yes, Marlon.”
I liked the sound of that.
Obedience.
Compliance.
Submission.
She was learning.
I could take that bratty behavior and little outburst here and there if it meant when I said something, she’d do it. Even if she didn’t want to. She’d trust me to make the right call when it came to her.
That type of submission was earned, not taken.
I couldn’t show too much weakness or she’d revolt and I couldn’t be too strict or she’d pull away, not trusting me at all.
When I slapped her earlier, she revered me enough to know I wouldn’t back out of the punishment or not follow through, yet she trusted me enough to know I wouldn’t overdo it and beat her up.
It’s a weird feeling to know someone looked at you that way.
Even though I have ‘Dom’ tendencies and love using my kit every now and again, I never considered myself a full fledged Dominant. I never stayed connected to women long enough to build the rapport.
But with Rory I felt that connection, that need to be close and handle her in ways only I can. And that was something dangerous, especially as the days we had together started to wind down.
