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Chapter Fifteen
Half an hour later, Lilith found herself bound over the trestle table. Rope circled her wrists in competently tied cuffs attached to the support beneath the thick slab of what was probably reclaimed wood because while he was proving to be a really great top, Vance was still a bourgeois motherfucker.
Her sore tits and her belly pressed into the unyielding surface, and Vance had cuffed her ankles to a spreader bar that was prizing her legs almost uncomfortably apart, leaving her pussy and her ass exposed, and her holes clenching at nothing in a way that was both humiliating and arousing as fuck.
Vance checked her bonds again, held up a pair of trauma shears before setting them on the opposite side of the table. He’d showed them to her before he bound her, but she appreciated knowing where they were.
And then he was behind her, rubbing her from shoulder to thigh before kneading his big hands into her warm and smarting bottom.
“This isn’t a punishment, Lil,” he told her as he brought a hand down in a light spank on the fleshiest part of her backside. The way he touched her, talked to her, cared for her, was hypnotic. She felt herself slipping into that easy place that was one of the things she loved so much about bottoming.
“You’ve been a very good girl for me, so this is about your pleasure and mine. We’re going to have a good time. And if that involves Daddy striping your ass with his belt, then it does.”
She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Some tops didn’t like belts because they felt like they were unwieldy, but she’d pick a belt over a strap any freaking day for the symbolism alone, never mind the lighter, narrower sting that still made her gasp. Yes please, all day, and all night.
At the rate Vance was warming her up, it might just take that long. She wouldn’t be sorry.
He worked her over with his hands, slaps ringing through the still air of the cabin, bouncing off the hewn log walls. For the love of Bauhaus, she loved that sound. Loved the steady rhythm of his swats, how the impact forced her pelvis against the edge of the table and made her want to grind against it. Loved too how he’d pause periodically to caress her, and drag his fingers over her labia and through her pussy lips to tease her entrance, tutting at her for being so freaking wet.
All in good fun because there was a hint of wonder in his voice too, and when he brushed against her, she could feel the iron bar of his cock in his pants. Yes, he liked her this way, and he was having as much fun as she was in his own toppy way. Thank goodness for sadists.
She didn’t sink her teeth into her bottom lip in time to contain her desperate mewl when he rounded the table and took up the bottle of lube and the stainless steel anal hook he’d set in front of her.
Vance met her heaving-chested, wide-eyed gaze with an appraising smirk of his own.
“You’ve been getting a little squirmy, poppet. And you need to keep still for your belt-thrashing. Thought this might help.”
She shuddered against the wood of the table. Not in fear but in achingly turned-on anticipation. The truth was that she loved anal play, and hooks in particular.
Vance had set a towel against the table where she was bent over it and having eaten on this self-same table, she appreciated that. She appreciated it more as he drizzled lube down her cleft and rubbed circles around her asshole.
“That’s it, Lil. Be a good girl a let Daddy in,” he urged, and when she closed her eyes and breathed in then out, he took advantage to press his finger inside her.
She hadn’t been lying when she’d said it’d been awhile and she made a barely human noise as he stroked in and out of her tight sheath, toying with her.
“Fuck,” she squeaked, and got a crisp spank to a sit spot for her trouble.
She knew language was one of Vance’s rules, but come on. She’d like to see him watch his mouth with a finger up his ass. A finger that wouldn’t stop fucking her, making her wish he could force his cock inside her there, because she ached for it. Maybe someday. If this weren’t a one-off anyhow. At this point, she fucking hoped not, but she knew better than to hope too hard.
He withdrew from her and she heard a plastic top pop, like one of those cleaning wipe containers. He was probably doing something like sanitizing his fingers which she appreciated for hygiene but it wasn’t exactly part of the fantasy.
A beat later, the slick coolness of the lubed ball end of the hook was pressing against her. She closed her eyes to concentrate on being open, on letting the intruder slip inside, knowing this would be the hardest part. The discomfort of having the tight ring of muscle stretched before the ball would pop through and…yes, there it was. Fully seated, and Vance tugged up on the hook, making her mewl and pant. The control and the vulnerability sent her deeper down the rabbit hole of submission, as did the soothing way he stroked her from waist to hip, bent over to murmur in her ear as he kept toying with the damn hook.
“Feel alright?”
“Mmm,” she hummed as she nodded into the table, and then took a sharp breath in as he used a fistful of her hair to turn her head to face him.
“I want you to look at me while I play with your ass, little girl. You like feeling at Daddy’s mercy, knowing I control every move you make with this?” he asked with a tug on the hook.
Not only did the curve of the metal put pressure on the tight ring of her anus but the ball itself rubbed just right into the back wall of her cunt. Made her exhale in a rush, and her eyes roll back in her head.
It wasn’t quite as satisfying to chant “fuck, fuck, fuck,” in her head as it was to say it out loud but while she was eager for his belt, she didn’t relish a slap of his heavy palm, not anymore.
“Y-yes, Daddy.”
“I like that too. Like knowing even if you want to be all squirmy while I stripe your backside with my belt that you’ll be held in place because I’ve shoved something up your ass.”
He’d done nothing of the sort—he’d been careful and steady—but she loved the words, the way they sparked the so-wrong-it’s-right parts of her brain.
