Page 68 of Masters of Control

Apparently, he really liked living dangerously.

27

Dirty Talker

Sam

It was impossible not to feel powerful as she secured Q’s wrists to the St. Andrew’s cross. Her body brushed against his as his cock bobbed in front of him, rubbing her thighs and stomach. The thick stalk was pointing right at her, the tip purplish with need, and a drop of precum pearled at the tip.

Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, her thumb sweeping over the head to swipe the precum. Groaning, Q thrust his hips forward, and the wooden cross creaked as he pulled on the cuffs around his wrists.

“Fuck that feels good.”

Even when he was bottoming, Q couldn’t help the dirty talk.

Sam couldn’t entirely hide her smile.

Though she could punish him for speaking out of turn, she wasn’t that kind of Dominant. She enjoyed hearing what he had to say, especially since she knew it was being said out of pleasure. It might be fun sometime to see if he could stay completely silent, but tonight she wanted to give him a reward, not punish him.

Well, not punish him much.

After the way he’d edged her, he definitely deserved a bit of torment, but she didn’t feel the need to add to it. Having him tied up and at her mercy, her hand around his cock while he moved his hips, using her hand to pleasure himself… then letting go. Yup. That was the kind of punishment she wanted to give him. Q groaned, his brow wrinkling as he moved his hips, his body automatically seeking more stimulation.

“Spread your legs for me,” she ordered, kneeling down. His cock bobbed next to her head, his ball sack hanging loose and low beneath it. As he obeyed, she couldn’t resist leaning a little to the left, so her cheek rubbed against the side of his shaft, her hot breath on his sack, and she smiled when she heard him whimper.

Yeah, turnabout was definitely fair play.

Q was now completely immobilized, bound and spread for her pleasure. When she got to her feet, she met his blazing hot gaze, and his eyes were full of desire as he stared back at her.

“Now what, Mistress?” he asked.

Something in his voice made her think he was trying to sound confident, or even challenging, but all she heard was his hunger.

“Now I’m going to do some target practice,” she replied coolly. It was a test of her willpower not to laugh out loud when his eyes widened dramatically.

She wasn’t going to do anything too bad, but she wanted to give him a night to remember, which meant not going straight for his ass. First, she was going to use the crop on him a little, then when he was all heated and caught between pleasure and pain, then was she going to peg him.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.

Well, yes. That was the idea. Sam barely managed to keep from cracking a smile.

Picking up the crop, she sauntered to stand in front of him, flicking it out. He winced, but she wasn’t actually trying to flick him with it… yet. The leather flap at the end touched his thigh, and she dragged it up his leg, gently brushing against his skin from his ankle to his hip bone. Then she lifted it and brought it down on his inner thigh, hard enough to sting but not too harshly.

Erotic pain versus real pain.

Q hissed and shuddered in his bondage before stilling again, his eyes hot with lust as she repeated the process up his other leg.

This time, he was ready for the small blow, and his cock jerked in reaction.

“How much of a masochist are you, Q?” she asked, running the leather up the base of his cock to the tip. His expression was torn, but his cock jerked, rubbing against the flap, seeking the stimulation.

“Gorgeous, right now I’m not sure there’s much you could do to turn me off,” he admitted. “Though cock and ball torture has never been my thing.”

It wasn’t her thing either, but she was getting off on the trepidation wreathed around him. The apprehension. The knowledge she could hurt him… until he used his safeword, knowing he didn’t know how far she planned to go.

It was a mind fuck, and she was enjoying the hell out of it.

Q