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Nodding into my legs, he increased the intensity with his tongue. I thrashed against my restraints, making the table rock beneath me. A warm rush radiated up from deep inside my thighs and I started to fall into the most intense, overwhelming pleasure.
With one massive hand, he reached up to my throat, compressing it slightly. He pulled his mouth off of me just long enough to say, “Ask my fucking permission. Please let me come. Fucking say it.”
“Please…” I begged. “Please let me come.” No response. And I was getting closer and closer and… “Please, Randal.”
Still, no response. I could hardly hold it off any longer. I was falling into a warm pool, starting with the tips of my toes. If I came without permission, I didn’t know what would happen to me. But my body was taking over without my consent, and pretty soon there would be nothing I could do to stop myself from….
“Fucking come for me,” he snarled, doubling down on my pussy as I came, intensifying the orgasm ten times over.
Still in the middle of it, still out-of-control with pleasure, when I was painting and thrashing and roaring his name, he pulled away from me, stepping back, making me suffer without his touch.
“Please, please, please,” I roared, kicking the table legs hard, making the table rock and clatter. “Please let me feel you.”
He took one angry step into me. “Do I look like I fucking care what you beg for?”
The harshness of his words should have been off putting but instead I melted into a pool of surrender. I didn’t care about anything just then. I didn’t care how mad I made him.
“Punish me all you want, but please just get inside me.”
He growled and let his pants drop. It was the first time I’d ever seen him completely, and he was enormous. My mouth dropped open and I gasped. He laughed a little as he stroked himself into full erection.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect. So goddamned perfect. Perfect for me.”
Kicking off his boots and stripping off his pants, he stood completely naked before me. His burns and scars extended all the way down his body. They were a part of him and only served to turn me on more—if that was possible.
“Tell me what you feel when you look at me.” He half-grunted, my eyes pinned to where his enormous hand encircled his thick shaft, moving the skin up and down, mesmerizing me.
I didn’t even need to think about it. “Hunger.”
“Fuck. And tell me what you see when you look at me.”
“Power.”
“Such a good girl,” he groaned. He ran his tongue over his teeth, smiling, and shook his head at me, then turned and walked across the dungeon. “Perfect fucking answers from my perfect little slut.”
From a table by the door, he took the key to my wrist shackles. He made his way back over to me, with his veined and throbbing erection straight and ready. Very carefully and very slowly, he undid the iron locks. I flexed my fingers as he placed a kiss to my palms. But much to my surprise, he didn’t undo my leg restraints—not yet. Instead, he walked to the other side of the dungeon and took a coiled length of rope from the hook on the wall.
“It’s time to make a woman out of you, Iris. Time for you to learn to take my cock. Time for your body to worship me. Are you ready?”
All I could do was nod, but all I could think was, yes, oh Jesus, yes.
He bound my wrists tightly with the rope, and then unbuckled me from the table. Once he was certain I was steady on my legs, which were wobbly from so much pleasure and struggle, he led me across the dungeon to a secondary door. The door opened onto a small room, that contained only a bed, which I noticed was bolted to the floor. He led me over to it and then shoved me face down onto the mattress.
Though his actions were rough and aggressive, there was a deliberateness that made me feel protected and cared for in a way that I had never felt before.
“Get on your knees. Face down. Forehead to the sheets.”
I did exactly as he said, nestling my knees beneath me. I crossed my legs, calf-over-calf, and lifted my hips.
“That’s right. Offer that ass to me. Fucking do it.”
Wiggling on my knees, I rounded out my hips, smiling myself into the mattress. Trying to make myself irresistible. But just as he had when I was on the table, he made me wait. I knew better now than to struggle, to ask, to question him. I trusted him to do what needed to be done; I trusted him with my body, with whatever came next. Patiently, vibrating with anticipation, I waited.
