I put everything away, giving her a break from everything but the feeling of the plug, I gave myself a matching tattoo on a small blank space on my inner wrist before finally returning to her.
I carefully pulled out the ‘O’ ring, her head falling back as she slowly worked her jaw, her eyes heavy. She slurped up what saliva she could, her body trembling.
I brought over a bottle of water with a straw and allowed her to have a drink. “Are you okay?”
She took several gulps before pulling away and swallowing. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I want more,” she mumbled, trying to shove her hips forward. “Please.”
“What do you want, baby?” I asked quietly, my heart thudding at her words, my skin breaking out in a sweat at the anticipation of what was to come.
A shiver shook through her, her muscles tensing and relaxing. “You.”
Fuck me. I carefully flicked some hair out of her eyes, my heart full. “I’ll give you the world if you so ask, but if becomes too much, you need to tell me, do you understand?” When it came to her, I couldn’t control myself, but she was already exhausted. We both needed a limit. One neither of us would cross, one I could follow with ease.
She licked her lips, blinking slowly, but still alert, still ready. “Red,” she said after a few seconds, lifting her head, her cheeks bright, her eyes shimmering. “That’s what they say. Red. Clear, concise. Easy to say and easy to understand.”
God, she was perfect. “Red,” I agreed. I hadn’t even considered that. A safe word. I should have thought about it far sooner.
But I was learning too.
I was trying to learn.
“Can I see?” she asked, glancing at my wrist.
I set the bottle down and held my new tattoo up for her, flattening the clear bandages so she could see it a little more clearly.
It was a chess piece, mine a Queen, hers a King, a black and white floral print all around it. Across the length of hers, I tattooed ‘Owned’ into her flesh, her tattoo taking up the majority of her inner thigh.
I didn’t put a word with mine. Not yet. But I would, one day. When I decided on the perfect word to sum her up, I would do it. “Yours says ‘Owned’. A King.”
She swallowed, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “It’s perfect.”
My cock throbbed at her approval. As if I had done something right by her. Somethinggood.
“Did you like mine?” she asked quietly, her eyes flicking to my chest and back. “You never said.”
Because I didn’t have the words.
I took off my shirt and tossed it to the bed, walking up between her legs so she could see her handy work.
Carved right into my chest, as deep as I had carved the ‘E’, was a jagged heart with the letter ‘M’ in the middle. “Mine?” I asked.
“Master,” she replied, offering a soft smile. “My Master. Woof woof,” she teased, her voice raspy.
Oh, fuck me. Without another thought, I walked over, pressing the button on the side of the wall, watching as the chair and hook slowly lowered until her pussy was at hip level.
I unbuckled my pants and dropped them, stepping out of them, revealing my entire being to her for the first time since meeting her. I didn’t want to hide from her. I wanted her to see it all. To see the pieces nobody else was allowed to come near. I wanted her to see everything.
She looked me over, her eyes lighting up, her hands wrappingaround her restraints. “Everett,” she whispered, her eyes lifting from my body to my eyes.
I stepped up to her, sliding my hand across the side of her face back into her hair, her thighs trembling against mine as I slowly used my other hand to position my cock, teasing her dripping cunt.
She gasped, trying to grind her hips against me, her head falling against mine.
Something so intimate, so perfect…I knew the first time I had put my head to hers that I was done for. I just ignored it. I lied to myself, to the world about it. I punished myself for feeling it. For feeling this.
I slid the head of my cock up and down her swollen cunt, feeling her body tense desperately, before I shoved my hips forward, inhaling sharply as her pants filled the air, her cunt so sensitive, she felt it in her toes.
I hated myself for it. Hated her. A pussy wasn’t supposed to be addicting, but her pussy? Her mind? The way she saw the world, the way she wrote about it? How could I resist?
