“Yes, sir.”
“Fuck, I love it when you call me that. Are you going to be a good little pet and do as you're told?”
“Yes, sir.”
He moves quickly, uncuffing one wrist and then the other. I lift my hands above my head and inhale a shaky breath as his hands trail over as much of my skin as possible as he pulls my shirt up and off painfully slowly.
“So obedient for me, pet.” He unhooks the front clasp of my bra, and my breasts spill out, and then he’s cupping them in his hands, kneading and pinching as my head falls back against his hard chest. “Already craving my touch, I see, but I didn’t tell you to move.”
My head lifts off his chest, and I immediately miss the comfort it provided. “Sorry, sir.”
With my hands still in the air, he finishes removing my bra, leaving me completely bare as he refastens my wrists to the cross.
Once I’m secure, he extends his pointer finger, making a show of tracing each of my fingers with it, slowly swiping between each one, leaving no inch of my hand untouched by his. With the same single finger, he continues down my forearm, moving in lines up and down my arm, careful to cover every bit of flesh, before circling my elbow and then stroking my upper arm. After he repeats the same motions on my other arm, his finger trails up to my shoulder and collarbone, mapping every divot and groove as my breathing picks up. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to his earlier gruffness.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes, sir.” I moan as his finger moves down to my chest. “Frick.”
I can hear his soft chuckles near my left ear, the modulator slightly distorting the sound.
His finger makes slow circles around the outside of my breast, and I inhale a sharp breath, forcing my chest up and out in a feeble attempt to get him to hurry the process along. Imight die if he doesn’t touch more of me soon, the anticipation making me sweat like a sinner in church.
“Patience, pet. You’re doing so well, I’d hate to punish you now.”
“What would my punishment be?” I ask eagerly as he removes his finger from my body.
“I warned you about speaking without permission,” he says as his voice gets softer. I fight the urge to look over my shoulder and curse myself for disobeying his command, worried he’s done with me. I’ve spent years having physical reactions to men touching me, and this man was not only able to touch me but also make me crave him within minutes.
Soft footsteps approach, and he gently covers my eyes with a blindfold. “Not another word out of that perfect fucking mouth, pet,” he warns, tightening the blindfold as my heart beats rapidly in my chest.
A hand slaps the flesh of my breast, and I let out a gasp as the pain of the strike eases into pleasure when his fingers rub the skin after. His large palms easily cover both of my breasts as he pinches and kneads them. If I could rub my thighs together, I would. Instead, I worry about the flood of arousal that overwhelms me as he continues his sensual massage. My breath stutters as I feel a familiar tingle start between my thighs. Holy crap, I’m going to have an orgasm. A man is going to give me the kind of pleasure I’ve only ever been able to give myself, and I don’t even know his name or what he looks like.
“Are you going to come for me, pet?”
I nod quickly, unsure if his question is rhetorical. An embarrassingly loud moan escapes my throat as I drop my head, lolling it from side to side as I focus on his fingers. Each pluck of my nipple, each tug and twist of my piercings, sends a zing down my body straight to my core, and I can’t concentrate on anything other than the electricity coursing through me.
“That’s it, pet, you’re so close. I can see how your body reacts to me. To my hands on you. The way I’m playing it like an instrument. Be a good girl and give me the melody I deserve. Come for me, pet.”
And I do, I come harder than I ever have before, as if he’s the maestro, conducting a symphony only my body can perform, my moans echoing off the cross in front of me in a chorus of ecstasy.
“Fucking divine,” he says as his palms release my breasts, sliding down my torso in a sensual caress. Just when I think he’s going to touch me there, he diverts his efforts outward, trailing down my outer thighs. “When I’m done with you, there won’t be an inch of this perfect body that my fingers haven’t touched. And then I’m going to replace my fingers with my tongue until I’ve tasted every part of you.”
Oh. My. Gosh.
His fingers move up the backs of my thighs before caressing my backside, but when he parts my cheeks, I flinch. “Don’t move, pet.” His tone is soft and pleading, not quite a command, and I force myself to relax as he continues his exploration of my bottom. It actually feels quite nice, and I find myself pushing back against his finger as he circles my tight hole. “Fucking hell, pet, what are you doing to me?” This question is definitely rhetorical, but I can’t help myself.
“Please. I need you inside me. Your fingers, your mouth, your—” My words are cut off when I feel something push inside me, in a place only I have touched, causing a loud moan to erupt from my mouth. Since I can’t see, I can’t be sure what’s filling me, but my other senses are heightened, and I didn’t hear him undo a belt or zipper. When I feel his hand grazing my lips, he adds what I am confident is another finger into me, and I clench around it. I rock my hips as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out. That tingle starts again, and I’m so close to another orgasm when I feel him pull outabruptly. “Please, sir, please fill me. You’re right, I need it. Need your touch. Please,” I beg.
I hear him mutter something about rules, and I worry that I missed something in Alyx’s briefing of the club rules earlier. It takes a second to register that his grumbles sound different, less distorted, and I realize that he must have removed his mask. “This doesn’t leave this room. Do you understand? No one can know,” he says against my core, his head near the apex of my thighs as he teases around the opening before moving his tongue up and down my thighs.
“Yes, sir.” I nod in agreement, confused by the conflict I hear in his voice. Not sure who I would even tell if I wanted to.
“Good girl. Now I’m going to lick every inch of your magnificent body before I bury my face in this cunt, so if you need me to stop, you’re going to have to use that safe word loudly,” he warns before trailing his tongue over every inch of me at a pace much too slow for my liking, working me into a frenzy as I fight the urge to pull against my restraints. I can’t stop the gasps and moans that escape my lips. I should be embarrassed or ashamed. A stranger is licking my body while I am chained up in a sex club. This is so not me.
“Fucking dripping,” he says, his warm breaths bouncing off my sex before he feasts on me. Every lick and suck sends a bolt of pleasure coursing through me until I feel like an archer about to unleash a quiver of arrows, each one aimed at the same target—my complete and utter pleasure.
“Oh yes. Yes! Oh, jeez, that feels so good, yes, right there. Yes, sir. Oh heck, yes,” I cry as my body convulses and I come with the force of an earthquake.
