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“May I close my eyes for just a moment, to get into the right head space? I want to touch myself the way you said, like I do when I’m alone, because I know that’s what you want, what you’ll like seeing, but it’s difficult with you watching me.”
“No.” He stepped closer and settled his hand on her throat, making her chin lift higher. It stirred things in her head, heart and body, cycling around him and that grip. “Start touching yourself, Les. When you trail your fingers over yourself, feel how soft your skin is, do you imagine a man touching you? Think of his hand, what he’s touching, feeling?
“Yes…no.” Her gaze stayed in the grasp of his, as sure as his hold on her throat. “I think of you touching me. I have, for a long time. I think of what you’re touching and feeling.”
His voice dropped to a purring rumble. “Then do that, while looking at me. Don’t go away from me in your head. Tell me. Take me on the journey. Start where you would if you were alone. Right now, you can move your hand above your waist.”
She imagined it as she would in her bed. Him above her, looking at her. In those fantasies, his face had been blurred, not brought into heart-thudding focus. It took an effort, with him so real and here, but the words came, commanded by his desire that she take him into her mind, her fantasies.
“You play with my breasts.” She moved her hand over them, brushing his forearm as she cupped and lifted one, passed her thumb over the nipple. She captured it with two fingers to squeeze it, stroke and shape it into a tighter point.
Her breath escaped in a little puff as his fingers constricted on her neck, his gaze locked on what she was doing. She moved to the other nipple as her hips lifted from the wall, fell back, a sensual invitation to bring his touch lower. “I can’t be still. I want you to touch me lower, but you keep touching my breasts, telling me I have to wait…that you want to do things your way. At your pace.”
“Damn right.”
A little moan escaped her. “The right one is more sensitive than the left,” he noted.
“Yes. At first. Eventually the left catches up, but the right is always the most responsive first.” She trailed her fingers over his forearm, earning a warning growl that made a smile touch her lips, tense with the stimulation.
She moved her fingers down beneath her ribs, over her stomach and navel, a circle out to the hip bones. His touch slid away, and he stepped back, squaring himself to watch her. A reminder he was commanding her to do this. His eyes swept over her, targeting her movements, but she knew he would keep checking to make sure she was watching him. Right on cue, his gaze flicked up, a stern reinforcement, before he shifted his attention to the track of her hand.
She caressed the tops of her thighs, her mound. She licked her lips and continued. “You stop here, your hand resting on my stomach. You tell me to spread my legs wider, lift my hips to you. I’m dying, needing you to touch me, but your eyes, the way they look…it’s like you already are.”
“Touch yourself, Les. Spread your feet out wider and keep them that way. As far as you’re concerned, I’ve chained them to the floor. So you can’t close them. You can only wait for what I decide to put between them.”
She moaned again when she slid her fingers over her clit and labia. As she moved them through that slick, wet valley, every nerve ending ignited. She wanted to remove her hair in that area, wanted to let him put flame there.
“I’ll paint it over your smooth skin,” he said, and she realized she’d said it out loud. “I’ll blow on it with my mouth, let the heat feather over your clit. You’ll come before the flame goes out.”
A gasp of reaction escaped. She rode the wave of sensation that rippled out from her touch.
“Keep going, Les.” He moved to the items he’d laid out and picked up the flogger with its thick tail of straps. “Keep your chin up and your hand down, working between your legs like I told you. Arch your back. Offer those pretty breasts and stiff nipples to me.”
She did it. She could trust him. Whatever he offered her, even if it included pain, it would make sense, feel right. If it didn’t, he’d want her to use her safeword. Would reward her for doing so. It all meant the same thing.
She was safe with him. Emotionally and physically.
She complied, her fingers playing, stroking, getting wet from the contact. He threw the flogger’s tails forward with an easy, economical motion. The sound reminded her of a flock of birds, the cumulative rush of wind that came with their passing. The straps struck her breasts, the base of her throat, her side exposed by her raised and bound arm. The thud had a sting as he pulled it away, but his restraint told her his intent wasn’t pain. Her nipples and breasts tingled. She arched further for him, her lower body twisting from the reaction through her cunt, the building need.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. He continued to flog her breasts with even, restrained strokes. The pain effect increased, on and around her nipples, on her sensitized flesh, but she leaned into it even as she flinched. Arousal and discomfort together built the intensity, pulling her mind into it. As she worked her hand between her legs and he flogged her, her body turned into a lightning rod, begging for strikes that would electrify everything. She was keenly aware of the rein’s hold, keeping her arm raised, stretching and displaying her body for him.
His strokes remained rhythmic, everything under his tight control, until she was gasping, whimpering, making little cries. Her mind was going away, the sting of the flogger hitting her nipples, reddening her breasts, all part of the stimulus that arrowed downward with every strike, a pulse. Her sex rippled in a near orgasmic state. Her fingers were dipping inside and stroking outside, making a wet sound against her flesh.
“God…Sir…I’m so close…”
He ceased. The flogger tails swayed as he held the toy at his side, letting its motion come to a natural stop.
He’d told her he would show her what his desires were. From the size of his erection against his jeans, he had.
“Put your free hand behind your head.”
As she did, her arm trembling, he laid the flogger aside and came to her. He untied the strap from her other wrist, but only to tie both wrists together over her head. Before he did, he tasted the hand she’d been using on herself, licking her arousal off her fingers. Then he adjusted the rein so she was pulled up onto her toes, his eyes promising the best kind of sexual torment as he tied that off.
“Sir…Master.” She was breathless, mindless, crazed with need.
He ran his hand over her back, then put both along her sides, her ribs and hips. After the stimulation of the flogger, her skin had that same electric reaction to his actual touch. She shuddered and jerked, whimpered.
“Be still, baby.” The endearment didn’t dilute the severe tone of the command. She could come from that alone. When he pushed two fingers into her mouth, made her suck on them, she almost bit down. His firm touch on her throat helped her recall herself enough not to do that. When they were good and wet, he removed them from her mouth and pushed them inside her.
