Especially in the Master’s house. Bad Girl.”
He gets to his feet, a wall of a man in front of me, and my stomach drops. I have three seconds to be scared out of my mind before he scoops me up and sits me on the edge of the padded table, where he removes my cuffs. My poor shoulders and arms are still aching, and my mouth is feeling the strain of holding the leash between my teeth, but that is not my main concern. No, it’s him, this enormous man with the wicked expression and unknown desires. He places his beefy hands on my shoulders, and I pull in a gasping breath. But to my utter surprise, he begins to massage my arms, my shoulders, my hands—a lovely, deep massage that makes my sore muscles sigh in pleasure, which I don’t dare do myself. It’s unsettling, this little moment of kindness. I don’t know what to do with it. I look up to him in gratitude. Catching his gaze, I see right away that this was a mistake, and the slap comes hard and fast, the leash flying from my mouth. My cheek burns, and my gaze goes to my lap.
“Damn right, Girl,” he says. “You don’t look at me, you don’t talk to me, unless I tell you to. And no matter what I do to you, there’s no screaming, hear me? Not a peep out of you, not even a moan of pleasure.” He gathers both my breasts in his hands and squeezes hard. “There will be pleasure, if only because you’re such a little pain slut, I can tell. And you’ll like it when I fuck your ass. You’ll like it and you’ll want to scream, little slut.”
Je t’aime, ma petite , my mind madly translates.
He leans in closer, until his breath is warm on my cheek. He whispers, “I have a huge cock. No lie. No bragging. It’ll make you want to scream when I work it into your dainty little ass.”
Oh yes. Just like my fantasy upstairs in my room.
I want to squirm on the table, his words making me shiver in lustful anticipation. In anticipation of being stretched until I tear, maybe. In anticipation of showing him how much I can take. I shouldn’t be so proud, but I am. I also know this place will work the pride right out of me.
His hand darts out and he grabs my right breast in a painful grip, using it to pull me down onto the table, then his rough, hurting hands are on my waist, turning me over onto my stomach, then pulling me up onto hands and knees. By the time my ass is raised in the air I am wet with wanting and ready to sob.
His hand goes back to my breast and he pinches the nipple so hard I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. He is a beast of a man—I’ve never met anyone of his size and strength—and this doesn’t bode well for my poor ass.
Yes, please.
My mind is emptying out, the analytical side gone, completely shut down. And I’m grateful for it. Grateful to him.
“You love it, don’t you, little slut?” he asks.
I want to answer that I do. But his hand slips between my thighs and finds my cunt slick with need.
“Ah, yes. You fucking love it.”
Pinching my clit, he pulls on it, elongating it, and pleasure whispers over my skin, my pussy clenching. Empty. Unconsciously, I arch my hips and he pulls his hand back.
He clucks his tongue. “You really should not have done that, slut.” He shoves my cheek down onto the table, and I breathe in the leather along with my fear. “Stay.”
My mind is tumbling into that dark place I go sometimes. A place where everything sort of fades away, even the fear and pleasure of the moment, because I’m too scared to even begin to imagine what is about to happen. But I don’t have long to wait, suspended in the emptiness that has become my mind. I can feel the heat of his big body at my side, then his hands prying my pussy lips apart, holding them wide. Something solid presses against my waiting hole, and I don’t know what it is, except that it’s big. Automatically, I widen my thighs.
“Good slut,” he murmurs as he begins to work the solid thing into me.
And God, it really is
He gets to his feet, a wall of a man in front of me, and my stomach drops. I have three seconds to be scared out of my mind before he scoops me up and sits me on the edge of the padded table, where he removes my cuffs. My poor shoulders and arms are still aching, and my mouth is feeling the strain of holding the leash between my teeth, but that is not my main concern. No, it’s him, this enormous man with the wicked expression and unknown desires. He places his beefy hands on my shoulders, and I pull in a gasping breath. But to my utter surprise, he begins to massage my arms, my shoulders, my hands—a lovely, deep massage that makes my sore muscles sigh in pleasure, which I don’t dare do myself. It’s unsettling, this little moment of kindness. I don’t know what to do with it. I look up to him in gratitude. Catching his gaze, I see right away that this was a mistake, and the slap comes hard and fast, the leash flying from my mouth. My cheek burns, and my gaze goes to my lap.
“Damn right, Girl,” he says. “You don’t look at me, you don’t talk to me, unless I tell you to. And no matter what I do to you, there’s no screaming, hear me? Not a peep out of you, not even a moan of pleasure.” He gathers both my breasts in his hands and squeezes hard. “There will be pleasure, if only because you’re such a little pain slut, I can tell. And you’ll like it when I fuck your ass. You’ll like it and you’ll want to scream, little slut.”
Je t’aime, ma petite , my mind madly translates.
He leans in closer, until his breath is warm on my cheek. He whispers, “I have a huge cock. No lie. No bragging. It’ll make you want to scream when I work it into your dainty little ass.”
Oh yes. Just like my fantasy upstairs in my room.
I want to squirm on the table, his words making me shiver in lustful anticipation. In anticipation of being stretched until I tear, maybe. In anticipation of showing him how much I can take. I shouldn’t be so proud, but I am. I also know this place will work the pride right out of me.
His hand darts out and he grabs my right breast in a painful grip, using it to pull me down onto the table, then his rough, hurting hands are on my waist, turning me over onto my stomach, then pulling me up onto hands and knees. By the time my ass is raised in the air I am wet with wanting and ready to sob.
His hand goes back to my breast and he pinches the nipple so hard I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. He is a beast of a man—I’ve never met anyone of his size and strength—and this doesn’t bode well for my poor ass.
Yes, please.
My mind is emptying out, the analytical side gone, completely shut down. And I’m grateful for it. Grateful to him.
“You love it, don’t you, little slut?” he asks.
I want to answer that I do. But his hand slips between my thighs and finds my cunt slick with need.
“Ah, yes. You fucking love it.”
Pinching my clit, he pulls on it, elongating it, and pleasure whispers over my skin, my pussy clenching. Empty. Unconsciously, I arch my hips and he pulls his hand back.
He clucks his tongue. “You really should not have done that, slut.” He shoves my cheek down onto the table, and I breathe in the leather along with my fear. “Stay.”
My mind is tumbling into that dark place I go sometimes. A place where everything sort of fades away, even the fear and pleasure of the moment, because I’m too scared to even begin to imagine what is about to happen. But I don’t have long to wait, suspended in the emptiness that has become my mind. I can feel the heat of his big body at my side, then his hands prying my pussy lips apart, holding them wide. Something solid presses against my waiting hole, and I don’t know what it is, except that it’s big. Automatically, I widen my thighs.
“Good slut,” he murmurs as he begins to work the solid thing into me.
And God, it really is
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