Page 40 of Addiction

“Believe it, beautiful.” He wished he could reach down and grasp her ample tits as they hung down in front of her, but alas, maintaining this position meant other pleasures had to be sacrificed. “I think this could become a regular fixture in our days.”

“How long must I stay like this, sir?” She heaved in a breath, and he could see the effort it was taking for her not to move and throw him off completely.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, sir.” She swallowed, her head still stubbornly refusing to rise at his query. “Just mortified.”

“And wet,” he snarled, willing to bet if he slid a finger over her pussy lips, he’d find her soaking with need. “I’d wager you’re loving every minute of this.”

“Maybe,” she mumbled into her chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled, settling back in his chair and resting his head against the couch. He intentionally held back from pressing his full weight onto her, but the point was being made. He got to relax, and she got to provide the means of his relaxation, with the added bonus that he knew she’d relish the subjugation. “This is the life.”

“So, how long, sir?” She tilted her head ever so slightly in his direction. “How long must I be your footrest before you’ll let me call home?”

“Hush,” he ordered, smiling to the ceiling as he eyed the expensive paintwork. As he recalled, he’d paid an additional unseemly sum to an artist for the ornate designs that were captured on the white background. “Footrests do not speak and can be gagged if necessary.”

Her sharp intake of breath was the only answer he received.

“That’s better,” he confirmed after a moment. “You’ll stay as long as I decide, little girl.”

She steadied herself on her forearms, her body still. He’d controlled the wildcat in the kitchen with a clipped tone and a strong embrace, but in the comfort of his lounge, he’d finally found a way to chasten her properly.

His life was finally perfect.

***

Ella

Thick heat intensified at her core, stretching out to her tingling clit and drenching her pussy with unbearable arousal. Her lips parted as her heavy lids fell closed. She was so fucking turned on!

Ella had never known anything like this need before. Even when Tucker had spanked her, and the urgency had amplified until all she could think about was fucking him, she’d still felt more in control than this. But there, literally under his feet, her entire being had been reduced to a thing he could utilize and govern. Now, she wasn’t just his ‘little girl;’ she was a vessel he could fill and a piece of furniture he could put his feet on.

She should have been furious at the humiliation, outraged at the mere inference that she was a footrest, but in the end, all she’d wanted to do was cede. She longed to please him, and even though she was there under the pretense of bartering to call her mother, secretly, she knew she’d have surrendered to him this way, regardless. The desire swelling within her was utterly consuming. She’d temporarily forgotten all about the trauma of the woods and was fully immersed in Tucker’s will. Kneeling there, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to give up this feeling.

Breathing out, she realized fleetingly that she had no idea how long she’d been there on her elbows and knees. Pressed into the soft fibers of the rug, she couldn’t say the position was exactly painful, but her limbs were hardly comfortable. Time, it seemed, was the preserve of her master—a metric for those entitled to use sofas. She, on the other hand, was nothing more than his hot and wet little girl. She needed to earn the right to use the phone, and if she happened to be mesmerized by his demands, then so be it.

She smiled at her evaluation and was grateful Tucker couldn’t see her expression from his place on the couch. If she was going to endure this—and love every bloody minute of it—at least she could suffer with relative blissful solitude. Flickering her eyes open, she glanced down at the rug, then along the length of her body. Her breasts felt full and heavy, her nipples eager for his touch. How had she lived so long without his brutal and necessary caresses?

“How are you doing, little girl?”

Her head rose at his inquiring tone, her heart rate racing as she was compelled to acknowledge him again.

“I’m okay, sir.” Oddly, she acknowledged, she was. Something about being condemned to be his footrest was strangely captivating, as if the stillness had allowed her mind to finally be quiet. She’d rarely known such serenity.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he cooed, lifting one, then the other foot from the small of her back and shifting his weight to lean closer. “And you look fucking fabulous.”

She wiggled her hips as his weight disappeared, whimpering huskily as his hand skimmed her hip and danced lightly along the curve of her ass.

“So fucking fabulous.” His voice had lowered to a low snarl as his fingers brushed between her cheeks. She gasped as he grazed over her pussy, stunned at how unbelievably wet she was. “My God, you’re soaking for me, little girl.”

“Yes, sir.” She laughed gently as his lips kissed her outer thigh. “Apparently, I rather like being your footrest.”

“Well then.” He reached for her robe and draped it gently over her body before wrapping his arms around her middle and tugging her onto her haunches. “That only goes to show just how fucking perfect you are.”

Chapter Seventeen

The Empty Cabin

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