“That was the plan,” she agrees. Then she goes back to cleaning. She seems distracted; her focus keeps shifting. She’s not the only one who’s distracted. Just having Ophelia here, in the play room…it does something to me. Veins tighten, blood travels south, and I quickly start to lose my ability to think rationally.
I start to lose my ability to think about anything at all except throwing her over that bench and taking her, deep and hard, the way I know she likes it.
Ophelia pauses her motion, then drops the towel. “But…I had to come home first.”
“Forget something?”
Even I can hear the grit in my voice. She needs to stop caressing that bench. We’re going to have to leave this room shortly, or…or…
Ophelia stands. She shifts, straddles the bench, and then looks up at me with those big, sweet eyes. “I need you to get me out of my head, Sir. Please.”
Fuck.
My heart and cock are pounding.
I cup her face. Immediately, she gives her body over to me. I feel her head get heavy in my palm as she relaxes into my touch, already slipping into sub-space. I pet my thumb over the gentle swell of her bottom lip.
“Stand, Ophelia,” I tell her. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
She gets up and pulls the slip over her head. Then she tugs her panties off, discarding those to the side as well. She stands, a small tilt in her hip. A vision.
“Pray,” I command.
She sinks to her knees. She moves into position, hands on her thighs, head bowed. I touch the top of her head. “Eyes closed,” I tell her, and then I leave her like that. I step away and move towards the long, wooden closet. There is an assortment of for-use toys in here, but mine are under lock and key. I unlock the drawer and pull it out.
My eyes drift over the buffet of options. I want to use all of them on her, but we do have to show up to this birthday party…eventually.
Go slow, I tell myself. You haven’t played in a long time. There’s no rush. Ease into this…
Fuck it.
I grab a small case and pull it out. I walk back over to where Ophelia is kneeling. I set the case down and open it up, revealing the electro-stim device and its many glass components, all nestled in velvet padding.
I position it so she can see it. “Alright,” I tell her. “Open your eyes.”
Those long eyelashes flutter open. When her gaze lands on the case, a small gasp leaves her. Ophelia loves and hates this device in equal measure. And I love tormenting her with it.
“I want to make you squirm,” I tell her.
I don’t need to wait for her consent. She gives it immediately. “Yes. Please.”
“Good. Now let’s put you where you belong.”
I take her hand and help her off her knees. I guide her up onto the bench. Ophelia lies down on her stomach, folding her arms and legs on the adjoining wings on either side of her. She knows better than to move, but I still strap down her wrists and her ankles to secure her in place.
I trickle my fingertips down her spine. “Comfortable?” I ask.
“Yes, Sir?—”
She barely gets the words out before I give Ophelia her first smack on the ass. She whines sweetly.
“How about now?”
“Yes. Thank you, Sir.”
I rest one hand on the back of her neck, while my other hand comes down on her other cheek. She expects it this time, but the smack still pulls a soft whimper from her. Paddles, floggers—these are fine. But there is nothing quite like the feeling of her bare ass against my palm. I love the softness of her skin. The way it grows hot to the touch. I spank her again and again, claps reverberating through the room.
She is not going to be able to sit down tonight.
