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“I think you’re dangerous. Physically, yes. But also emotionally. I fear the things you make me feel.”
“Too bad you didn’t listen when I reminded you I’m a monster.” He twisted her pussy lip until she whimpered, then released her.
“You’re not a monster.” Her voice shook, so she cleared her throat and repeated the words, this time with conviction. “Benson, you’re not a monster.”
His reply was the sound of receding footsteps. She squinted up at the light until it became too much and she closed her eyes.
* * *
He’d known this was a fucking bad idea. That’s why he tried to hand back the packet that first night.
He could play the victim and say that they—Mal and the overseers—had pushed him into it. Doing so would absolve him of responsibility for the bad decision-making. He could, but wouldn’t. They may have prodded him, but Benson was stubborn as a mule. Redirecting blame to someone else implied he was easily manipulated, and that simply wasn’t true. If he hadn’t chosen this, hadn’t wanted to be here, he wouldn’t be.
But what was true was that he wanted to put his hands on Mal again. He’d always wanted that.
No other scene or submissive had ever quite lived up to what he found with her. And that was why they had gone too far. That was how he’d become a monster.
This weekend would be different. He’d spent the week carefully planning every moment they’d spend together. He was going to be in complete control until he released her from her submission on Sunday morning.
He wouldn’t let himself go too far.
He wouldn’t be drawn in by the taste or feel of her. It was one reason he’d decided there would be minimal sexual contact, and that Mal wouldn’t be orgasming at all.
Benson wasn’t enough of a masochist to apply that no orgasm rule to himself. He was taking his Dom’s prerogative and would fuck either her ass or mouth whenever he needed to. Part of his plan to ensure nothing went too far was to keep himself clearheaded, which meant not allowing arousal to influence him unduly.
He crouched at his kit, which he’d unrolled on the floor behind a person-sized cage. A heavy cloth covered it, creating a barrier, and he picked this spot to set up his stuff specifically so Mal wouldn’t be able to peek at the implements he’d selected.
Everything was tucked into a pocket or strapped in place in the order he planned to use them. Eager to begin, Benson undid the snaps that held his medium-tail deerskin flogger in place. Standing, he quietly shook out the tails. He’d oiled the flogger earlier, and the falls were soft enough for his plan.
Not that it wouldn’t hurt her. It would. But only in the way she needed.
He wouldn’t repeat the mistakes…the crimes…of his past.
Forcing his thoughts away from the last time he’d scened with her, Benson turned back to the stone platform.
For a moment he stopped, stared. She was just so fucking beautiful. Her personality was so big that sometimes he forgot how objectively lovely she was. Her features were softer and more delicate than the woman who wore them.
She also looked deliciously submissive at the moment. The see-though dress was virginal white, and it had an almost Greek feel to it, though he wasn’t well versed enough in fashion to pinpoint the exact reason he thought that. It was the same one she’d had on that morning outside the dining room.
He circled around, taking her in from all angles.
Just for fun, he grabbed the skirt, pulling it back over her knees so she was once more mostly covered.
“Sir?” Her voice had just a hint of tremble.
“I just realized what you remind me of right now.”
Bracing the hand that held the flogger against the edge of the table where she wouldn’t see what he held, he leaned over her. Using one finger, he tugged down the neckline of the dress, hooking it under her breasts. Her nipples were tight and hard, the gold jewelry drawing attention to them. As if those lovely nipples weren’t already worthy of focus.
The corset was on nice and tight. He appreciated the way it forced her to breathe through her chest, not her stomach. The contrast between the stiff, hard leather and her soft breasts was delicious.
He leaned down, blowing on her nipples. They tightened from the cold, and when she inhaled in reaction, her tits jiggled in a way that made him smile.
It wasn’t yet time for him to play with these beauties, so he pulled the neckline back into place, making sure to drag the fabric over her nipples.
Her head tipped back, the long graceful line of her throat begging for a collar.
“You look like a virgin sacrifice,” he murmured. “Spread out on an altar waiting for…” He snorted, shaking his head as he stood. “Waiting for the monster to come and take you.”
