Page 31 of Dancing With Distraction

I tap her thigh. “Up on all fours.”

“Really?” she asks, sighing. She rolls onto her stomach and pushes up onto all fours. The weight of the balls surprises her, and a small gasp slips from her lips.

I lube the butt plug, then I rub some extra against her puckered hole. She lurches forward in surprise, and I grab her thigh, hauling her back into position and placing a short, sharp slap on her backside. She hisses. “Keep still,” I warn.

“I’ve never . . . yah know.”

I grin. “No, Victoria, what?”

“I’ve never had anyone go there.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I say, pressing my thumb there. “Now, keep still.”

She does as instructed, tensing whenever I apply a little pressure. I massage the area until I feel her relax again, and then I press the silver plug against her hole. I reach between her legs, rubbing her clit, and as she hangs her head, I press the plug into her backside. She cries out, squeezing her eyes shut. “Relax,” I order.

“Easy for you to say. Have you ever had one of these up your arse?”

I smirk, slapping her thigh. “Careful, Victoria, or I might skip the stretching and fuck your arse right now.”

She presses her face into the mattress, keeping her backside in the air for me to admire. My cock stirs, and I inhale sharply. “Stand,” I tell her.

She crawls backwards off the bed, letting her feet lower to the floor one by one. She rises elegantly into an upright position and shudders as the weight of the balls pulls down. “Jesus,” she hisses, grabbing my hand to steady herself.

“Walk to the door and wait there for me.”

She side-eyes me, earning another slap to her arse. With the toys in place, she cries out. “Shit,” she yells.

I smile. “Are they doing something for you now?”

I watch as she walks towards the door, clenching her fists. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. My little krasota.

I make her stand there for a full two minutes before joining her. Taking her by the hand, I walk her to my office. By the time we reach there, she looks ready to explode I stand her by the broken glass and point to a dustpan and brush. “Clean it up.”

She frowns. “What?”

“You heard me, clean up your fucking mess.”

She hesitates before reaching for the brush, and when she goes to lower to her knees, I take a handful of her hair. “Stand.” Keeping her hair in my grasp, I slowly lower her at the waist so that her backside is in the air. She begins to sweep the glass. “Do not come, Victoria.”

“Dmitry,” she whispers almost pleadingly.

“If you come before I tell you, there will be more consequences.”

“I don’t know if I can stop it,” she murmurs.

“You can. Concentrate.”

Once the glass is in a pile, I hand her the dustpan and she sweeps it up. “Now in the bin,” I instruct. She straightens and eyes the bin on the other side of the room. Each movement will send ripples of pleasure through her, and I can see the strain on her face as she walks slowly. Once that’s done, I lead her into the hall, where the broken vases are spread across the wooden floor, and she groans.

“Dmitry, it’s impossible.”

I smile smugly, taking a seat on an antique chair in the corner. “Get to work.”

“Please,” she whispers, her eyes begging me.

I shake my head. “Do you expect me to clean up your mess?”

“Of course not but?—”

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