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“I like your arms up, elbows bent, because it lifts your breasts.” His own patience was nearing a breaking point, so he leaned in and licked each nipple, wetting the skin. “Right now you’re presenting your tits to me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re my needy slut, aren’t you?”
She whimpered, her eyes opening enough that she could look down at him.
“You like showing off your lovely breasts. Like making it easy for me to pinch and hurt them.”
She took a deep, bracing breath. “Yes, Sir.”
“And why do you like that?”
“Don’t make me say it…”
He slapped her tits, spanking them right on the nipple. Four strikes on each breast, alternating. She cried out and hunched her shoulders a little, but her hips rolled forward and back in a needy undulation.
“Why do you like it when I pinch your nipples and slap your breasts?”
There was no right answer, only her answer. What her answer was would tell him where he needed to take the scene next.
“I like it because I’m your slut.”
There was a slight stress on the word ‘your’. He gave himself a minute to process that, quickly running through potential next moves, before cupping her tits and massaging them.
“That’s right. You’re my slut.”
It was that possessive phrasing, coupled with a cool, accepting tone, that had turned a word she’d run from before into one that visibly aroused her.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and bit down so hard that her skin turned pale. She was looking for more stimulus.
He grabbed her by the hips and yanked her forward. She shuffled her feet, managing to maintain her balance. His knees were now between her thighs, her tight nipples inches from his face. His cock was diamond-hard in his pants.
She wasn’t the only one affected by the possessive phrase. Every dominant urge in his body roared in triumph. Shewashis. This complex, complicated woman who was scared but courageous, hated her own needs but indulged in them with gusto.
Daniel buried his face between her breasts, taking a deep breath. Her skin smelled like lotion, talcum powder, and her own unique scent.
Turning his head to the side, he nipped her breast, pinching skin between his teeth. That felt good, satisfied a primal need to both give her pain and mark her.
He leaned back, cupped her left breast, and then bit the upper curve. Holding the flesh between his teeth he sucked, drawing blood into the trapped skin. It had been a long time since he’d deliberately given someone a hickey. An irritating little voice inside his head was pointing out how juvenile this was, but he didn’t care.
He wanted her marked, but he had no right to leave her with bruises or welts from impact play. So instead he would leave his mark on her breasts. Declare them his personal property.
“You’re mine,” he murmured, kissing the splotchy wet spot he’d just left on her tit.
Pinching the apex of one breast—compressing nipple, areola, and more between his fingers and thumb—he lifted her breast and fastened his teeth to the soft underside.
It was harder to get a good bite here, because her skin was taut, but his attempts—which resulted in a few pinching bites before he managed to get a mouthful—wrung cries of pleasure and pain from Autumn.
Satisfied, he sat back while still holding the tit up. She was standing tall, no doubt to alleviate the pull. Her eyes were half closed, lips parted and damp.
Satisfied with his handiwork, he released her breast, giving it a reward pat, before turning his attention to its twin.
This time, he wasn’t so gentle.
Autumn yelped when his teeth bit down. Whimpered when he lifted this breast so he could bite and mark the underside. Whimpered because this time he lifted by the nipple only.
When he was done using his teeth he once more leaned back. He began to roll her nipple against the side of his index finger with his thumb. All while still lifting, the weight of her breast adding pressure to her nipple.
