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I state, "The sub will not engage in any play with anyone besides the Dom unless the Dom determines it's in her best interest."
"I don't want anyone else, Sir," she claims.
"Liar," I accuse, then reiterate, "Unless the Dom determines it's in her best interest." My stomach flips at the thought of anyone else touching her, but there's a reason she's here.
"I'm not—"
I cover her mouth with my palm, then reach forward with my other hand and unlatch the double cuff. I murmur, "You'll submit how I see fit."
She blinks hard, and a tear falls down her cheek.
I swipe my finger over it, taunting, "Don't cry, pet. You didn't marry just any man. You married me. And there's nothing I won't give you. But make no mistake. You're coming home with me tonight."
More tears fall over my hand.
I add, "Don't move until instructed." I slowly pull out of her. Her tiny moan vibrates against my palm. My cock aches but so do my heart and ego. I never believed she could look for anyone else. Yet she came here wearing her collar.
I rise, then unlatch the ankle cuffs. I tear the rest of the wax off her, and she cries out. I lean down, kiss her ass cheek, and she shudders.
"Not yet," Papi calls out.
I ignore him and the other lewd sounds, then help Blakely to her feet, holding her firmly so she can catch her footing.
She stares at my chest, like the good sub she is, until I tilt her head. Her flushed cheeks and blue eyes make my balls ache again. I fight the inner demons that want to keep her all to myself and put my hand on her cheeks. My chest tightens, and I have to swallow down rising bile. I ask, "Do you want a male or female?"
She scrunches her face again, then slowly shakes her head. "You aren't listening, Sir."
"You don't have to pretend. Now answer my question, or I'll pick for you," I order.
Her lips tremble harder. Her breath shallows, and more tears fall.
For what feels like the hundredth time, I repeat, "You came here for a reason without me. You wore your collar."
"I don't want anyone else," she states.
Every time she says it, my heart soars. But she's lying. And I won't have any more lies between us. So I spin her into me and move her across the stage. I pick her up and set her on a medical examination table. I order, "Lie down."
She stays frozen.
In my most commanding tone, I repeat, "I said, lie down."
She gives me a painful look, then finally lowers her body onto the metal table. I've never seen her look so scared, even when I've done some pretty insane things to her.
My stomach flips, and I extend the stirrups, positioning her feet in them and then latching the ankle cuffs. I slide my hands over her thighs, then grab her wrists. I position them above her head and restrain them to more cuffs.
"R-Riggs," she whispers.
"Who am I?" I demand.
She swallows hard. "Sir." More tears fall down her cheeks.
I lean over her, trying to put on my more confident expression. "Don't cry over me. I'm giving you what you need. Then we're going home."
Confusion fills her face. "I-I don't—"
I put my fingers over her lips. "No more denying the obvious." I open the drawer under the table and pull out a gel mask. I place it over her eyes and lean into her ear, murmuring, "I love you. Now, last chance. Who do you want to eat your pussy? A man or woman?"
She shakes her head. "I only want you, Sir."
