A sharp sting cracks across my cheek, suddenly enough to punch the breath right out of me. My head jerks. I feel the rope yank against my throat, and I laugh without meaning to, biting the inside of my cheek as the heat blooms on my skin.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, licking the corner of my lip and tasting my own blood for the second time today. “Didn’t know you were into foreplay, you asshole.”
I can feel the warmth of his body suddenly hovering above mine again.
“Didn’t know you were into being my fuckmeat, princess.”
Then his teeth are on me, biting the side of my neck like a fucking mad dog. I twitch, but the ropes won’t give, and I realize how pathetic I must look, not even being able to flinch properly.
He laughs.
“You like that?”
“You gonna keep asking or actually do shit?”
He drags his hand down between my legs and slaps my inner thigh. I jolt again. The rope around my chest digs in deeper with the movement, and the bar between my ankles won’t budge.
“You don’t get to run your fucking mouth.” His hand lingers, fingers gripping deep into the flesh he just struck. “You’re tied up for me. That makes you mine for the night.”
His other hand moves up, flicking one of my nipples, then pinching it hard.
“Fuck—” I growl, but the word falls soft, buried under the sting. I’m hard—no way to hide it. My cock is up and twitching, fully visible, no shame.
“Sensitive?” he asks, not giving me any time to respond. He pinches my other nipple the same way.
I suck in air through my teeth.
“Should’ve done this sooner,” he mutters while playing with my nipples. “Didn’t know you were hiding such a slutty body. What else you got locked in that twisted little brain of yours?”
He runs both hands down my body now. Over my ribs, down my abdomen, fingers digging hard. His touch shifts between soft touches and sudden pain—another pinch, this time inside my thigh. Then a sharp slap to my hip. I twitch, hiss, buck uselessly against the spreader bar.
“That’s it,” Ryo says, voice breathless, like he’s getting off on the way I’m tied and useless. “Keep moving for me, bitch.”
“Will you fuck me already? I’m fucking bored.”
“Eager much?”
“Do you have some erectile dysfunction?”
His hand slaps my thigh hard, loud in the room. Then he grabs the rope line around my neck like it’s a leash and yanks my head up. It hurts like a motherfucker.
“You talk a lot, don’t you?”
I open my mouth to talk some more, but he stuffs two fingers past my lips, pushes hard on my tongue, down near my throat. I gag, the sound wet and disgusting in the air.
His fingers are ridiculously long, pressing down until drool spills from the corner of my mouth. He twists them, rubs the inside of my cheek, drags the pads across my tongue like he’s testing the texture of it. He shoves deeper once, forcing another gag out of me, and only then does he pull his hand back. It follows with a slap across my face.
“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes, and it’s the most turned-on I’ve ever heard someone sound. “Tied up, legs open, drooling. You love this shit.”
A wet sound—and then his spit lands on my cock. His fingers follow right after, lazily smearing it down the shaft. I groan, hips bucking, but the rope pulls again, dragging at my throat. I can’t do shit.
“You hard for me or for the ropes, slut?”
I grin at the dark.
“The rope, obviously.”
His palm lands again, flat across the head of my cock. It stings like fire.
