He reached into his pocket and pulled out a deep, dark red lipstick.
Florin cupped my chin, tilting my face up. His fingers were firm, almost rough, as he pouted my lips and smeared the lipstick across them. Not carefully applied—smeared, like he was marking me.
Then from his other pocket, he produced a long red satin ribbon.
He took my wrists and bound them together in front of me, the ribbon soft against my skin but tied securely enough that I couldn’t easily escape.
“If you do as you’re told today,” Florin whispered, “you will be rewarded.”
He leaned close to my ear, his breath warm. “Do you like this?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Good girl.”
Those words sent electricity straight through me.
Florin reached up and pulled down one cup of my bra. My breast spilled free, the nipple already hard and aching.
“I see you’re really liking this,” he murmured, massaging my exposed breast, then pinching the nipple just hard enough to make me gasp.
My hands hung in front of me, bound and useless. I felt helpless and yet so empowered. I loved letting go of all control, becoming one with the moment.
Florin’s hand traveled down, slipping between my legs from the outside of my panties. He felt the wetness there and smiled.
“I like how wet you are.” His eyes locked on mine. “After we’re done with our work, we’re going to do something about that.”
He left just that one breast exposed—the other still contained in lace, the contrast making me feel both sensuous and slutty. I stood there in the middle of his studio in bright red lipstick, a half-undone bra with one erect breast showing, soaking wet panties, hands tied together, and still wearing my high heels.
I’d never felt more sexual in my life.
Florin walked back to a small table and opened what looked like a cooler. He pulled out—
An ice cream cone?
Chocolate. Already starting to melt slightly in the warm studio.
I watched, confused and excited, as he walked back to me.
“Take this,” he ordered, holding out the cone.
I managed to grasp it with both my bound hands, the ice cream already dripping slightly onto my wrists.
“Sit on the satin sheets,” Florin commanded. “And lick the ice cream. Enjoy it. Lick it like you’re playing with it.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “And while you’re licking this ice cream, enjoy yourself. Imagine there is no one else who can satisfy you right now. Only you can satisfy yourself.”
He moved closer, and I could smell his cologne mixed with paint and tobacco.
“Love yourself, Amelia. Love all your curves. Love your whole body. Enjoy this ice cream like it’s a gift you’re giving yourself. Make yourself happy. And I’ll do the rest.”
With that, Florin returned to his canvas.
For a moment, I felt awkward. Weird. Self-conscious.
I settled onto the satin sheets, kneeling with my legs folded behind me, extremely careful with my tied hands not to drop the cone.
The ice cream was melting faster now. A drop fell onto my wrist.
I licked it off. Cool, sweet, chocolate.
