“Should I put you on the spanking bench to remind you, or do you think bound and tortured with electric stimulation and endless orgasms will drive the lesson home better?”
My head bobs in dazed glory.
His thumb sweeps over my lip, freeing it from my teeth. “Words, my beautiful wife.”
“Orgasm torture, please.”
“So polite,” he croons. “Climb on the bed and sit between the posts.” As I comply, he follows me, outlining what he plans to do. “I’m going to remove your pantystring. Your pussy will be bare to anyone watching, especially if the lights are brighter. Each time you orgasm, I will remove another cord of your lingerie until you are stripped of everything but your collar.” He lingers there before growling his final sentiment. “Including your shame.”
That’s why I can do this—live out a fantasy I nearly didn’t admit to, but desperately craved. Because he approaches everything with such thought and care. It’s cathartic instead of terrifying. Even before we truly begin.
“It’s all yours,” I vow, waiting on the bed for his next direction.
“That’s my fearless Thorn.”
Using a switchblade, he carefully cuts the thin strip covering my pussy. Then he has me scooch to the edge of the bed, stretching my arm up toward the post, where he cuffs my wrist, and repeating it all on the other side. It has my chest jutting out and my spine snapped ramrod straight due to the reach. He bends my legs, resting my heels on the lip of the footboard and attaching a spreader bar to each ankle, which keeps my thighs open.
Finally, he checks to be sure my circulation is okay, touching each of my fingers and verifying that I can feel the sensation. Once he’s satisfied, he takes a step back and smirks at his work. “Comfortable?”
“Absolutely,” I sass. “Why don’t we watch movies like this?”
“You just bought yourself a bound-and-gagged Netflix night. Any other smart-ass remarks, Mrs. Noire?”
I can’t help but smile that he can no longer call me Miss West. “No, sir. I’m quite comfortable.”
That seems to please him.
“I’m going to blindfold you to start.” He removes his tie to illustrate that. “I’ll be turning up the lights after each orgasm, but all you’re to focus on is my voice, my commands, and your pleasure. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He places a handheld metal counter in my palm, curling my fingers into the right position on it. “Every time you come, you press the counter. If you drop it or miscount, you’ll be punished.”
“Got it.” I swallow, my bones vibrating with lust from the buildup of two days of edging and now a throng of onlookers and this agonizingly slow process to guide me to the coveted finish line.
He wraps his black silk tie around my eyes. It’s loose enough that if I look down, I’ll be able to discern the level of light without the complete awareness.
“Are you going to be part of this show? Will we both be exposed at some point?”
“When you’ve earned it,” he replies from somewhere farther away.
A faint amber glow shines through the seam of my blindfold. More light. More visibility. More murmurs from the audience—louder this time.
“And when is that?” I rasp, attempting to calm my nerves while he makes me wait here, alone, blind, exposed. Desperate.
“When you beg for my cock after”—his tuxedo pants brush against my calf, rough and alluring, and he tugs the barely there cup of my bra down to free my pebbled nipple, tweaking it for emphasis—“five orgasms.”
That shoots right to my spasming core, my thighs shaking.Five.I’m about to give him one right now, at just the thought.
“Fuck, Zar,” he hisses, plainly noting the tremors cascading through my limbs and how absurdly wet I am. “I haven’t even started. You’re glistening so pretty, and you’ve been such a good girl. You waited two days for me. I think I’ll just keep you in a constant state of arousal.”
That could work.
An electrifying charge—not a metaphorical one—sweeps down one arm, across my breasts, and up the other. It’s like calloused fingertips chafing my heated flesh, heightening my need. I knew I’d fucking like this. Another request. Electrostimulation delivered through a wand and various attachments, designed for erotic pleasure. He drags it over my nipple, and it’s a little more sensitive, but delightfully so.
When he thrusts two fingers inside me, the charge cascading over my breasts grows in strength. He must’ve turned it up. Hepumps in and out of my wet entrance, the crude sound of my arousal filling the room, and his thumb circles my clit as he zaps my nipple with the electro wand.
An unfiltered moan springs from me. Part shock, part salacity.
