Page 29 of Possessive Ink

I pause. “My Sir?” I question, unsure where this is going.

“Say it again,” he orders.

“My Sir,” I repeat, more confidently.

“Yes. You’re my princess, and I’m your Sir.”

“Yes, Sir,” I agree, getting into this strange game we’re playing.

“Lift your hair for me.”

Gathering my hair, I twist it into a pile and hold it on top of my head, wondering what he plans to do and if it involves me sucking his cock. I’m not opposed to that, and if he does want me to give him head, then I’m quite glad that he doesn’t intend to jizz in my hair. Sperm is not fun to try to wash out.

Instead of ordering me to open my mouth or shoving his dick in my face, he leans forward and clasps something around my neck.

“What is that?” I ask.

“It’s yours,” he says.

“I don’t understand. Why do you have a necklace just lying about? Is this some kind of weird game? Is this like a souvenir you give to all of your hook-ups?” I gabble, suddenly offended as words pour from my mouth at a hundred miles an hour.

“Who am I?” he snarls.

“My Sir,” I answer, surprised at the ease the words fall from my lips.

“And you’re my princess. The only princess.”

“Do you have a red room of pain?” I blurt.

“No.” He chuckles. “I don’t need a separate room to fuck you in. I have everything I need right here.”

“So this is a cream room of pain?” I ask, glancing at the warm neutral paint on the walls.

“I’m not interested in hurting you, Princess. I’ll only enjoy hearing you scream if it’s while you’re coming on my fingers, tongue, or cock.”

My entire body tightens at his words. I already came more times today than I’ve managed to make myself come in the last month. Do I really want more?

“Stand up,” he orders, offering me his hands and helping me to my feet.

Once I’m standing, he keeps hold of my hands, walking backward while he leads me out of the bedroom and into the most amazing closet I’ve ever seen in my life. My jaw drops open as I take in the wall full of railed cabinets with glass doors and the units in the middle of the room topped with glass cases full of belts, watches, and jewelry.

Instead of letting me see, he leads me over to a floor-to-ceiling mirror and then steps behind me, pulling my hair back over my shoulders so I can see my throat and the stunningly beautiful necklace that’s now hanging around it.

“It’s beautiful,” I gasp, taking a step closer to the mirror so I can get a better look.

The necklace is a delicate solid circle of pink-colored gold with a bow-shaped pendant hanging from it. It’s the perfect size to sit at the base of my throat, like it was made for me, not something he already had.

“What metal is this? I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s rose gold,” he says, curling an arm around me and pulling me back into his chest, his hand reaching between my bare breasts to run a careful finger over the band at my throat.

“Why do you have it?”

“I bought it for you.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “You didn’t know I existed before this morning.”

“I knew you existed. I just didn’t know who you were,” he says cryptically.