“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
I can’t even begin toimagine what it must be like for Damon to lie helplessly on the floor while I tower over him, my size thirteen winter boot pressed precariously against the most vulnerable part of his body.
It would be my worst nightmare; I might be a switch, but even while subbing I’d find it impossible to give someone thiskind of power over me. Damon seems to be relishing it, though; the fact that I could cause some serious damage with very little effort either hasn’t occurred to him or—more likely—is only turning him on more.
Of course, I have no intention of causing damage or inflicting physical pain of any kind—that’s not Damon’s kink—but it’s the knowledge that Icould.
“Jesus, I knew you were a horny bitch but this is extreme even for you,” I taunt. “Do you know how easy it’d be for me to crush your balls?”
He lets out a strangled groan as I press down harder.
“Please…fuck…”he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Not just your balls. I could seriously mess up all your junk.” I can’t help smirking at the way he starts desperately panting and thrashing his head as I start rolling my foot around. “You don’t even care, do you? Does it actually turn you on to have a hundred-and-eighty-five pound guy stomping on your dick?”
“You won’t hurt me,” he gasps.
“That wasn’t the question, little bitch,” I point out, once again pressing down harder to stop him from thrusting up.
He letsout a grunt of frustration, his expression pained with desperation. “Fuck…pleaseI need to come…”
I spare a glance for his raging boner and offer a commiserating nod. “Yeah, that situation looks dire. I’m not sure if I should let you come yet, though.”
“Please,” he begs. “Please, I need this…”
I arch a brow at him. “Andthisis how you want to get off? Pinned under my boot on the dirty floor?”
“Yes…” The word comes out as a breathless gasp. “Like a piece of trash.”
“You thinkyou’re a piece of trash?” I ask with a smirk as I start to move my foot a little quicker. “Dirty boy, you’re the whole fucking landfill. And you fucking love it, don’t you?”
He’s too caught up with the intensified pleasure from the increased friction to answer so I decide to let it go and just enjoy watching him whore it up. This time when he thrusts up I let him do it, and before long he’s moaninglike a fucking porn star as he snaps his hips up over and over, for all intents and purposes fucking my foot.
He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from my towering figure earlier, but now Damon’s eyes are closed as he tosses his head back in pleasure; and I can’t resist taking the opportunity while he’s unaware to record a video. I only get about five seconds; just long enough to show what a dirty fucking whore he’s being right now. Then I slip my phone back in my pocket.
I can tell he’s getting close; his face is flushed red and curses are falling from his lips in between increasingly wilder moans. Not having seen him come in person before, I can’t be a hundred per cent certain of his tells so I decide to play it safe rather than trying to stretch it as long as possible and risk missing my window.
Damon’sreaction to me moving my foot away is almost comical in its predictability.
“No!Fuck…what? No!” he practically whimpers, looking adorably distraught, as though he’s a six-year-old who’s just been told Santa won’t be coming this year.
I arch a brow at him. “I’m sorry—were you not done fucking my boot yet?”
He lets out an embarrassed groan and rubs a hand over his face, but still manages to admit, “No. I fucking wasn’t.” He lowers his hand and hits me with a frustrated glare. “You said you’d let me come.”
I offer a wry smile. “Rewind the transcript, dirty boy. I said I wasn’t sure I should let you come,” I remind him. “Then I asked if you wanted to come on the floor.”
He rolls his eyes. “So you implied it then…”
I let out a soft huff of laughter and step over Damon’s thigh, crouching down next to him. “Whetheror not I implied it means jack shit,” I tell him. “I could have written a fucking promissory note and it still wouldn’t matter. Because as far as you’re concerned I’m the final authority on all things orgasm-related. I decide when, where, how, and evenifyou get to come. And if I need it that authority includes the power to back-track, change course, skip forward and any other kind of misdirection that can help me fuck with your head and intensify your sexual torment.” Leaning in closer, I tell him, “Now, I think you’ve slummed it on this dirty floor for long enough. I’m not getting you off with my foot and I’m not getting down there with you, so if you want any chance of an orgasm tonight get the fuck up.”
It’s kindof ridiculous how quickly Damon’s able to spring to his feet with the right motivation. I don’t regret indulging him, though; it was obviously something he was into and watching him writhe around like that was seriously hot.
I run my gaze over Damon’s body, scrunching my nose at his disheveled appearance. “Those clothes need to go,” I tell him. “All of them.”
His brow quirks slightly and his cheeks flush pink but that’s the only reaction he gives before acceding to my request. And if the sure, confident way he’s undressing is any indication I have an inkling that initial reaction was less about the prospect of stripping and more about a certain suggestion I made before we got started.
I can’t seem to stop my eyes from ravenously feasting once Damon’s completely naked. So I don’t bother trying; instead I leanback casually against the bar, grinding my palm over the front of my jeans as I let my gaze roam freely over his breathtaking body.
