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“I told you I was broken,” she whispered.
“And I told you that you were not broken.” There was steel in his words and voice. “You will not contradict me again.”
She bit the tip of her tongue and nodded quickly. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Oh you will be.” Heat suffused his voice.
“Have I earned a punishment?”
“Several.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know if she was worried or turned on. Wait, she was a submissive. She could multitask and be both. Worrying about a punishment was a turn on in and of itself.
“First you’re going to be punished for running away from your last punishment. Then you will be punished for using degrading language and being cruel to my submissive.”
“Your submissive?” She looked up as he rose. Daniel was towering over her, his crotch inches from her face as he stood astride her knees.
“You, Autumn. You are my submissive and you were cruel to yourself, weren’t you?”
“And the other submissives.” Why had she said that?
“Ah, but you weren’t. You displaced your fear and anger for, and with, yourself.” His gaze was intense. “No more of that. Open your mouth.”
Autumn dropped her jaw open, stomach tight with anticipation. Her hands were coming up, ready to unfasten his slacks so he could slide his hard cock into her mouth.
They’d never gotten around to finishing their conversation about intimate touch. Before she’d stalked off, he’d been carefully asking if she was okay with his bare hands on her ass. That was quite a jump from butt-touching to face-fucking, but she wanted it. On her knees with a cock in her mouth was in her sub comfort zone, though she rarely engaged in overtly sexual activities during her scenes.
Daniel’s hand tightened in her hair and he jerked her face forward, rubbing his hard cock against her open mouth, the fabric of his slacks and zipper abrading her lips.
When he jerked her back by the hair there was a barely visible damp spot on the front of his pants, and her lips felt a little swollen.
Daniel swung one leg over her head, disappearing briefly while she knelt staring at the seat. He was back before she had time to psych herself into, or out of, anything.
“Up on the chair. Knees on the seat and lean over the back. I want your ass higher than your head.”
He was behind her, so she didn’t get a chance to see what he was up to. She positioned herself the same way she had before—her midsection leaning on the back of the chair, fingers under her, elbows sticking up, arms tucked against her sides.
Cool, smooth rope—she knew what it was just by the weight and feel of it—draped over her back.
“Unfortunately, you cannot be trusted to stay still for your punishment.” He wrapped the rope, loosely, around her midsection and then, after removing the pillow back and tossing it aside, laced the ends through the slatted wooden back of the chair, bringing it up and around her forearms and wrists in a wide, loose cuff, before threading it back through to the front.
“I won’t run this time, Sir.”
“No, you won’t.” He tied off the restraint. “Because I’m not giving you a choice.”
He teased her ass with the ends of the rope, making them dance across her skin before releasing them. He came around and crouched so they were eye to eye. Her hair was falling around her face, but he carefully tucked it behind her ears.
“Remember, I don’t use a slowdown code word. I will, of course, respect your safe word—pickle—but if you need to slow down, or are uncomfortable, say so.”
“You want open and honest communication.” She repeated his earlier words.
He smiled up at her, and she was so entranced with his smile that she didn’t notice his hand move.
But she felt it when he cupped her dangling breast, massaging it gently. Autumn’s eyes fluttered closed on a moan.
“Autumn, I am going to touch you in overtly sexual ways, as part of our scene. I think it’s necessary. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
