Page 57 of Pierced

She stares at my cock. The droning, orchestral, bass-heavy music thuds on. I think my dick might be bouncing a bit, in time with the rhythm.

Myrtle approaches the foot of the bed again. She lifts her paddle and presses it into my cock, forcing it to lie flat against my stomach once more. She shifts her head to the left and then to the right, studying it. Studying me. I still have my arms above my head. I grab at the headboard.

“You have a nice cock,” she says. I don’t say anything. Because I haven’t been told to, and also because there’s a foot-long piece of wood that reads BITCH pressed against my junk and if I do something I’m not supposed to, I worry about what might happen.

She lifts the paddle and my dick springs back to vertical. And now…

Oh, Jesus. She’s climbing on top of me. She’s sliding up my body. Her panties are pressing into my bare dick. I’m less than a centimeter away from being inside her right now. What the hell is happening?

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asks.

I swallow, hard. I’m not sure if it’s a trick question.

“I… don’t know,” I finally manage out.

She closes her eyes inside her mask and nods, slowly. Then she reaches down beside her hip and unties one of the pieces of ribbon that was attached to a garter. She draws it out with both hands and stretches it taut. Then she leans over so that her mask is an inch from my face, and after that… I no longer see anything.

She has me blindfolded.

I am in the dark.

I am in the dark.

I am. In the dark.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - MYRTLE

He thinks he’s so cute.

So in control. So excited about what we’re doing. So expecting something good to come out of this.

“It’s not gonna happen, Pierce.”

I bet he’s furrowing his brow. But I can’t tell because of the blindfold. I only see his mouth. Slightly parted, breathing air in and out.

I get why a man would be hard at this point. I am a goddamn sex goddess. I have manipulated him perfectly. Started out with just the right amount of tension, and fear, and pain. And in between each of those things I’ve allowed him to let his guard down. Let him think this has been what he’s been looking for his whole life.

That’s how it started. But it’s not going to end that way.

He wants to fuck me. Actually, he wants me to fuck him. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. I am. But if all I’d wanted out of this last hurrah with my boss was an orgasm I’d have handled that at work. I’d have let him bend me over his desk or ambushed him in the parking garage. Waited until he got in his car and then climbed in his lap and fucked him with my back pressed into the steering wheel.

He gave me his body tonight. He submitted that and did quite well. He still has his dignity. He’s breathing hard, but not too hard. He’s excited.

But he never surrendered his mind. Not one bit. And this is all about mind games.

“Why are you hard?” I ask him. “You may speak.”

“Ahhhh… well, Myrtle”—he pauses to grin here—“you’re turning me on.”

I wriggle against him, his cock so stiff and ready beneath my panties. “And do you think that was my purpose tonight, Pierce?” I accentuate each syllable, making sure my t’s and p’s are precise. “Do you think,” I say, “that was my goal?”

I swear, I can see his eyeballs moving back and forth under the satin ribbon. Confusion.

“You may speak,” I add, even though he’s not hesitating because he was waiting for my order.

“I… feel like this is a trick question.”

“It’s not. Now answer me.”