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Realizing my mistake, I click my tongue.
“What is it?”
I shrug. “Didn’t pull that drenched thong off you before strapping you into the chair. Guess I just have to tear it.”
She grins. “Better bring your a-game. Might only be a scrap of fabric, but it’s strong. And wet, so it’s even harder to break.”
I barely let her finish her sentence before I pull the chair out into recline. Her shrieking my name was worth the wait. This is what I wanted, her splayed out in front of me on the throne, body reclined, legs spread wide, nipples hard, and that white lace thong is soaked. She’s ready for me.
My cock is hard, painfully hard, but this isn’t about me and my cock. This is about worshiping my queen, letting her know just how proud I was to watch her play with Phoenix on the stage and knowing she was coming home with me.
Fucking perfection.
I’m not fucking around with her underwear. Unclipping my keys from my belt loop, I quickly find the penknife. When I flick it open, she gasps again. “What are you going to do with that?” Her eyes are wide, but there’s no fear in them, just curiosity.
“Not tonight, kitten.” I pat her thigh. “I’m not a big fan of knife play, but I could be convinced to try it if you’d like. Just not tonight.”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “Maybe.”
If I’m not mistaken, knife play is Archer’s jam—one of the house doms here at Protocol. I make a mental note to talk to him about where to start with a curious submissive. I don’t want to send her into sub frenzy, but I definitely want to fulfill her desires and leave her soaked and hungry for more. There’s a fine balance.
Making light work of the thong despite Addison’s protests about how much the postage stamp of material cost her and how she’s now got a bra without a matching thong, I grin.
Bunching up the fabric in my hand I give her fair warning. “Kitten, enough.”
She narrows her eyes at my hand. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
She opens her mouth but I don’t give her a chance to speak, her pretty lace panties are crammed into her open mouth. “I’m a nice guy, Addison, but don’t fuck with me. I’m still a dominant, and I’ll still assert myself over you.”
Unable to make out what she’s saying around the fabric in her pretty mouth, I assume she’s telling me yes sir, and that she’ll submit and be a good little girl even though the look on her face says “eat shit and die, asshole.”
I want to reward my girl, not punish her.
Tucking my knife away, I re-clip my keys onto my pants so I don’t lose them, and pull her hips toward me on the seat. My kitten’s pussy is drenched and already trickling onto the plush pillow under her ass.
Have I ever seen a prettier cunt?
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a jucier, pinker, more enticing pussy in all my years of sexual activity.
“You’re staring.” She’s somehow worked the panties from her mouth, and they’re resting on her chest.
“You’re perfect, Addison.”
She opens her mouth again, and before she says a word I know self-deprecation is going to fall from those plump lips.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“But—”
“If you go down this path, kitten, you need to be prepared for the consequences. If you talk bad about yourself, I’m going to make you talk good about yourself. Ten fold.”
The message hits home, and she blanches.
“You’re a strong...” I kiss the inside of her knee, and her hips tilt. “Capable...” I kiss midway up her thigh. “Stunning woman.” I kiss a little closer to her glistening pussy. “Who needs to be nicer to herself.”
“Or what?” Despite her hands gripping the wooden armrests on either side of her, her nostrils flare, and her eyes light up with challenge.
