How I’d like to slap it.
Lilian turns slowly towards me and unfastens her ascot. Women in suits are hot, but women like her, blonde long hair, ice-blue eyes, in this epic, tailor-made female suit with high-rise pants, heels, and an ascot? I mean, damn.
She unties the ascot and walks over to me. Every step is deliberate. Present. Confident. She walks around the sofa, where I still lean against the backrest, immobilized from my view.
“Hands up,” she orders me when she stands behind me, and they go up in the air like pulled up by an external force.
She slings the ascot around my wrists, and I know she has practiced this move many times, because within a matter of seconds, my hands are tied tight. I look up at her with my head fallen back.
“Eyes on the floor,” she snaps at me, and I do as told. It is an exciting experiment because, usually, I am the one who plans and analyzes, who demands and orders. It gives me pleasure. It allows me to tune out. Now, being the submissive, I try to do the same.
Lilian pulls my hands back and down, so they’re behind my head, elbows up and wide, to present my chest and breasts.
I know that trick, too.
“You will not move until I tell you to,” she says, and nothing more happens. She is testing my patience, and while I am usually one of the most patient people on the planet, I can’t right now. My mind isn’t focused. My mind has always been a monkey mind, and I fight my own feet not to start twitching up and down.
Mind over matter,I tell myself in my head repeatedly, without success.
My body feels like it's being ripped apart when Lilian finallywalks around me and sits down on the low table in front of me. As I am not allowed to look up, I stare at her beautiful feet with the black high heels. But instead of distracting me, it turns me on even more, because I can imagine spreading her legs for me with only those heels on and nothing more.
I want to move. Grab her. Throw her back onto the table. Undress her. Kiss her. Enter her with my fingers. Make all these sensations go away. Make her scream and beg.
I can’t restrain myself at this point anymore.
The entire situation is ripping me apart.
How did I even get here?
I shouldn’t.
None of this should be happening.
“You really don’t like to sit still,” she says, and I want to scream at her for doing this to me.
Her hand wanders up my thighs. Her touch.
I focus all my energy on the touch, and a heated wave of desire burns through my core.
Calmness spreads through me.
“I don’t,” I say, and my eyes wander up. I need to see her face.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she says. “I told you not to move.”
I don’t care, because there’s that flicker in her eyes. A flicker that will light an untamable fire when incinerated, and I will be the one to do it.
I stare at her and bite my lip, fully aware I am provoking her.
Slap!
Her palm meets my cheek and throws my face to the side and down.
I bite my lip harder because damn, the heat of the slap burns through my cheek, and I am turned on beyond. I like rougher play.
I could keep my eyes on the floor where they are right now, but I wouldn’t be me if I were that easily defeated. I bring my head back up and glance darkly in her eyes, a challenging smirk appearing on my face.
“You will not move until I tell you to, or it’ll be your bum next time with twenty,” she says darkly.
