I have to take control, find and exploit a weakness in Ivan's armor. The empathy angle is working, slowly but hopefully surely.
Maybe amp it up tomorrow—more stories, more vulnerability.
Or play on that look in his eyes when I mentioned the spanking. Use it.
I could try to seduce him? Distract him enough to grab his phone, or a key, or…
But before I can think of what I might do, my mind wanders, unbidden, back to the bathroom. The hot water cascading down,Ivan’s hands on me—firm, unyielding. The way he ripped my briefs off, positioned me just so. The sting of each spank, sharp and humiliating, but underneath it...heat.
Exposure.
Total submission.
It was terrifying, but sexy in a way I didn't expect. Being dominated like that, by someone so powerful, so in control. A real alpha.
My body responded even as my mind rebelled… my cock hard between my legs, the way I arched into it without meaning to. I could have climaxed from a single intimate touch from his hand at that moment.
God. I need this.
I need to get it out of my system right now…
I shift and throw off the covers, a familiar ache building.
No. Focus on escape. Focus on…
But my hand drifts lower anyway, slipping under the pajama shorts. Just to relieve tension, I tell myself.
My fingers wrap around my shaft, squeezing slowly, teasing, as the memory replays… his growl, commanding me to count each spank, the wobble of my cheeks under his grip.
Mmmph.
I'm throbbing already, twitching and ready. I bite my lip, stifling a moan, as I pump faster. I imagine his hands again, not spanking this time, butexploring.
Dominating in other ways.
Pinning me down, taking what he wants.
I’m totally submissive. Exposed, at his mercy.
It's wrong, so wrong, but the forbidden edge only makes it hotter.
As pressure builds, coiling tight, I sense...something. A prickle on my neck, like eyes on me. The door's shut, locked from the outside probably.
But is he watching?
Or listening?
The thought should horrify me, but it doesn't. It amps everything up as I buck my hips and work in tandem with my hand. Fuck, it feels so good.
My fist works faster still, my other hand grabbing my balls and pulling.
I’m almost there…
But then I spot it. Tiny, discreet, in the top corner of the ceiling: a camera. Red light blinking faintly.
Oh God. He's watching. Or it could be recording and he’ll be able to watch it over and over again to his heart’s content…
It should stop me cold. But instead, it tips me over. The idea of him seeing this—me, pleasuring myself to thoughts of him—sends me crashing into climax.
