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“You’re insanely beautiful, Indigo.” His fingers brush against my nipples. “Your tits. The way they hang… Your little waist, the way it leads me to that pretty pink pussy. And your hips. Your little feet. You make me want to sit you on my cock and watch you ride me all day long.” His lustful eyes find mine. “You’re perfection.”
His words make me fidget a little, for I still hear the words of my mother in my head, the woman who endlessly picked apart every aspect of my face, my body, my voice, my way of moving, talking, looking.
When I was little, my puppy fat cheeks were too big for her. As I got older, she hated that my tits were developing. My hair was never right, my facial expressions, the fact that I wanted to wear make-up when I hit my teens.
Ever since then I’ve preferred to avoid thinking about my looks as much as possible, nor do I want whatever’s going on between Grey and me to only be about how physically attracted we are to each other.
“Being hot isn’t much of an achievement,” I retort, aware that I’m being an irritating little brat. “I mean, would you admire someone for winning the lottery?”
“Number one, you’re going to learn to accept a compliment about your beauty by the time I’m done training you. And two, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were seeking a correction.”
The way he says that word,correction, a word which if uttered by anyone else would leave me running for the hills, does stupid things to my insides.
“Well, you always think that,” I shoot back.
“Am I wrong?”
He lifts his hand to my face, gently brushing his thumb over my lips which part without resistance. This is the bit where I always give myself away about how desperate I am to suck, to remove the feel of someone else, to have his cum slide across my tongue and down my throat so that his is the last I taste.
His thumb gently slides from side to side, catching a slip of saliva from the inner seam of my mouth. I attempt to resist the urge to suck on it as his eyes study mine, even though I ache to. In fact, I ache to drop to my knees right now.
As I’m on the verge of returning his favor and getting to my knees, his thumb ventures further and my lips wrap around it and I first lick the underside and then clamp my mouth closed around the digit, sucking hard, imagining the feel of his cock sinking across my tongue and deep into my throat.
As he groans his arousal, my eyes lock onto his as I continue to suck.
“You want to feel my cock down your throat,” he says.
I nod.
“Do you think you’ve done enough to earn it?”
I withdraw. “Do you think you’ve done enough to earn my mouth?”
He loses control, grabbing the side of my face, his breathing erratic as he closes all remaining gap between our bodies. “I don’t usually allow women to speak to me the way you do.”
“Well, if you want to spend time in my company, you’d better get used to it.”
He draws my hair back until it pinches. “Is that so, little girl?”
“Yes,” I reply to the gleam of his eyes.
“Such a naughty girl. So naïve. You know, any trouble you can get yourself into, I guarantee I can think up a punishment to match it.”
I raise a brow. “Really?”
“Really. Now hand your Master the riding crop.Now.”
Deciding to forgo the sass and see where he takes me, I unhook the riding crop from the wall. The wooden rod is long and milled from varnished tigerwood, its dark streaks slicing through the light brown wood. At one end is a thin leather strap attached by a metal stud.
At the other, there is a leather tongue, clean, shiny, and black. The entire thing likes pristine and unused.
“Whose is this?” I ask, wondering if that barn out there used to once house horses.
“No more questions for today,” he responds, holding out his hand. “Subs don’t get to ask questions during sex. I ask the questions from now on. Your job is to answer. And to obey. Now hand it to me.”
After a moment, I hand the riding crop to him, placing the thin rod across his large palm.
“Have you ever been whipped before?”
