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Darla’s breathing deepened and I kissed her in-between binds to keep her grounded—to let her know we could stop at any moment. Once she gave into her inhibitions, she’d realize there was so much freedom to be found in bondage.
“The heavens took their time with you, Darla. You are in a league of your own.” I stepped back to appraise my work—the knots caging her arms behind her back and the Y formation crossing over her front, serving her breasts like juicy offerings on a silver platter. My knuckles grazed the slope of her warm cheek. “And you were made for me.”
My queen of hell.
My goddess of spring.
My pretty little whore of a wife.
She kissed the amber stone in my seigneur’s ring, a dreamy look in her eyes. “You were made for me too, Zeno.”
I walked her backwards with a hand fisting her hair. Darla fell into the throne, her legs parting to reveal her swollen flesh. It was in desperate need of a tongue-lashing.
As I reached for the black leather paddle, my wife eyed my muscles with zeal. She admired my tattoos with open adoration and the fact that my scars did not repulse her was a boost to my ego.
The part of me that felt like a monster waned in her presence.
“You have the name of a saint but the attitude of a sinner,” Darla murmured when I brought the paddle under her chin to tilt her face up. “A paradox if I’ve ever seen one.”
“And you are the only one I sin with, little angel.” I kissed her eyelids and feathered a finger down her jaw. “God put you on this earth to lure me to my demise.”
“I can say the same about you.” She sighed when I trailed my fingers over the ropes caging her. “I’ve never seen a more breathtaking man in my life, Zeno.”
My chest unfurled with emotions. “I love you.”
“I know.” She winked.
I nipped her lips. “So say it back.”
“Hm. I’ll think about it.”
Such a brat. But fuck, I loved her more for it.
“Careful, pet.” I wrapped her hair around my hand twice and glided the paddle over one jutting nipple. “You will address me with respect or your mouth will be punished.”
“Yes, Master.”
I cracked the paddle across her right breast and she jerked in the throne with a pained gasp.
“Say thank you, Darla.”
“Thank you, Master,” she mewled when I smacked the paddle over her left one. The skin bloomed scarlet and my jaw tightened, imaging the heat of it against my tongue. “Again, please.”
Her wish was my command.
I taught my naughty wife a lesson by paddling her heavy breasts ten times for the ten days we were apart. She ground her core against the throne’s cushioning and I slapped the paddle across her clit another few times.
All while she half moaned and half sobbed delirious gratitude.
Darla’s voice echoed in my mind like a mating call.
I threw aside the paddle and fell to my knees before her.
She was panting, tears smarting her eyes. I clasped her face and kissed her, saying with actions how much I appreciated her subjugation.
Darla sucked on my tongue in that way that made me feral. I groaned, my heart drumming a tattoo against my ribcage. Without breaking our kiss, I reached for the glass of water and fished out another ice cube. I rubbed it in circular motions over her areolas.
“Feels good?”
