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I already know the answer.
And it scares the hell out of me.
The room we’re about to enter is the ultimate suite. Inside is not a simple bed and bondage table.
Inside this suite are several chairs. The first, and simplest, is a spanking bench—a leather table where the submissive lies on their belly with a lower stool to rest their knees. The ass sits slightly elevated from the rest of the torso. I get hard just imagining Mandy’s sweet ass spread before me on that chair, but it’s only as long as the torso. Poles perpendicular to the bench leave her open for business.
The second is a Tachigaeru bondage chair, this one in red leather. With a split seat so only the thighs are held in place and a long split back complete with wrist and ankle restraints, the chair is perfect for any kind of punishment where you want your sub facing you and fully bound.
Both chairs offer endless possibilities for pleasure and pain.
But neither of them is what I’m looking for tonight.
No, I cast my gaze to the third implement in the room—the padded BDSM bench that features five pads at varying heights, all with leather bindings. The large and highest pad is for the torso, of course, and the four lower and smaller pads correspond to each limb. The sub can be bound into the doggy-style position at exactly the right height to please the Dominant.
I can adjust the height so that Mandy’s mouth will be at the perfect level for my cock.
She wants to learn how to give head? She’ll learn tonight. She’s beautiful, her cheeks that gorgeous blush of pink, her tits squeezing out of the corset and her lips trembling, but only slightly.
This equipment is a lot for her innocent eyes to take in, but she’s being a trouper. A brave trouper, and I love her even more for it.
“Come here, Mandy.”
She approaches me, and I lock the door of the suite.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
“Yes, sir.” She bites her lower lip. “My safe word is ‘blush.’”
“Good. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
I gaze at her. The corset, simple jeans, simple black pumps.
The most beautiful supermodel in the world tied into the most intricate leather BDSM attire is no more delectable than my Amanda.
“Are you ready, Mandy?”
“Yes, sir.”
God, my cock is hard. I’m not sure how I’ll get through this.
I advance on her, take the laces of her corset between my fingers, and loosen them. I unclasp the hooks and remove the corset, and her beautiful breasts fall against her chest.
I want to touch them. Cup them.
So I do just that. I take them, hold them in my palms. They’re mine now. No one else’s.
She sighs softly.
I bend toward her, kiss one nipple and then suck it between my lips. “Mine,” I murmur against her soft flesh.
Another soft sigh, and my cock nearly explodes.
I lick and tug on her nipple while I pull at the other with my fingers. She’s like silk, and her blush spreads over the tips of her breasts as her nipples harden further at my touch.
I could spend two hours just on her breasts, but it’s late, and I have a plan—a plan that includes the BDSM bench and Mandy’s sweet lips around my cock.
I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in again.
