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“You like that?”
“I do.”
She groans when my fingers drag across the skin of her taut stomach. Lower, and lower, and lower. I trace a line between her bellybutton and the entrance of her pussy, stopping just shy from exploring between her lips.
“Do you know what I want to do to you?” I ask.
“No,” she pants.
“I want you fully exposed and vulnerable––”
“I think I already am,” she sasses.
“This is merely the warmup. What I have in store for you will blow your mind.”
“Now you’re worrying me.”
“Trust me, you’ll be thanking me,” I assure her. “I want you splayed out across the bed like an offering. I want to give you so much pleasure, you forget your own name.”
“Oh.”
“Can you handle that?”
“Yes.” Her voice comes out high-pitched.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes, I can handle that,” confidence radiates in her statement.
“There’s one catch, though.”
“Um. Okay…” She hesitates for a beat. “What is it?”
“I want to restrain your wrists.”
“Wh—wh—what?”
“Not with handcuffs, ropes, tape, zip ties or chains––”
“Chains?” she shrieks. “Is that a thing?”
“It’s more hardcore, and not suitable for a novice, but yes, chain wrist cuffs are a thing.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh gosh.”
Her head drops, almost in defeat.
I place two fingers underneath her chin, lifting her head up, regardless of the fact she can’t see me. “I’m not talking about anything that extreme, sweetness. I’m talking about silk ties––”
“I’m okay with that,” she offers.
“You’re very trusting.”
She considers me for a beat. “You haven’t given me any reason not to trust you, Ignatius.”
My cock throbs.
“I like that answer,” I tell her.
