Page 54 of Yours Truly

“Oh, shut up,” I breathe, my chest heaving as his large hands skate up my sides, causing another rush of arousal to gush from my core. “And stop—” I press against him, trying to get him to stop. I don’t want him to stop, but I do want him to learn.

He rises, panting, still standing between my legs. “Stop?”

Pushing to my elbows, I blink up at him, our simmering eye contact dousing my nerves with cold water. “I had a great day here,” I whisper, “and now I’m going to have a great orgasm to end it.”

He reaches for his belt, but I shake my head, telling him to stop. My lower half vibrates when he immediately ceases on command. “I need the key,” he breathes, and for a split second, I realize he thinks he’s getting out.

He thinks that the words are the lesson, that simply telling him his cock isn’t a device is where it ends. If he lets me, I will teach him. But that involves him staying in chastity.

“No, you don’t. You need to get me the bag from the floor and take your pants off.”

With his hair around his shoulders and his chest heaving, the sight of a horny Trace, lips swollen from kissing me, a feral instinct claws up my legs and grabs control. I get off the table and grab his hand just as he snatches the bag from the ground. By the wrist, I lead him into the back office.

The only place where there are no cameras.

“Get undressed and I’m going to lock the door and set the code,” I tell him, happy that we’re at least at closing time. Closing the shop up to fuck feels scummy, and not something I’d ever envisioned doing when finally at a studio. Then again, Trace is in chastity and getting naked for me.

After locking the door, I swipe the economy tub of petroleum jelly from the supply closet, and kick open the office with my boot. Trace startles but doesn’t move to hide himself, which only turns me on that much more.

I like a bold man, one unafraid of new things, and one not ashamed to be vulnerable for someone he cares about.

I stare at his balls, pink and purple with strain, hanging from the metal cage. His cock swells beneath the frame, pushing out of the slats, and his large hands hang down obediently at his sides. His chest and groin, chiseled and covered in ink, flex as he twists his body, pushing aside the office chair to make room for me.

I close the door behind us and reach into the bag, pulling out the strap and dildo.

“Fuck no,” he grounds out, shaking his head, pointing a wobbly finger at the toy. “You are not fucking me with that.”

We stand in silence, the strap-on held out between us, a physical and metaphorical barrier.

After a moment he says, “You at least gonna be naked?”

A smirk curls my lips. “I’m not fucking you, I’m fucking myself.” Stepping toward him I rise to my toes to steal a kiss from his lips, one he hungrily leans into. God, I love that. “But I will fuck you with this one day. And you’ll be moaning for me to make you come in my hand as I jack you.” I lick my lips, tasting our kiss. “Fuck me, baby, fuck me and jack me,” I crow, mimicking how he’ll sound.

His eyes widen and one hand falls to his caged cock. “Fuck, Ivy. You’re so… hot.”

He glances down at the strap while watching me step into the harness, adjusting the nylon at my hips so it fits well. “You’re… fucking yourself?”

I nod. “I told you, I want to celebrate my great day. But I’m smart, Trace. I’m a multitasker. I can come all over this dildo,” I tell him, stroking my fist down the rubber cock bobbing from my center, “and I can teach you a lesson. Teach you that your cock isn’t a tool to get revenge or to give you a temporary high. From here on out, your cock isn’t even yours.”

“No?” he asks, his voice a baited whisper.

I shake my head. “It’s mine. And my cock is going to learn how to find pleasure without being a total whore.” I slap his caged cock, making him jolt and groan. “Look at me,” I tell him, but he wallows in the cock slap so much that I have to reach out and take ownership of his jaw, forcing his eyes to come to mine.

“It was a tiny slap, you’re fine,” I tell him, decidedly. “Now, look at me in this strap-on. Look,” I command, heat blooming behind my ribs as his dark eyes roam over my body. “See how it fits?”

He nods.

“Good.” I unclip the nylon straps at each hip and shimmy out of it. “Now put it on.”

“Wh—” he starts but I cut him off by pulling down the straps of my bodysuit, revealing my naked breasts for the first time. I look down at my nipples, pink and plucky, and up at Trace. His mouth is parted, eyes hooded, locked on my breasts. I kick out of my leggings easily.

“Your tits are fucking perfect, Ivy,” he breathes, raspy and tender.

“I know,” I agree, cupping my bare hands to them. “And I’ll let you hold them and suck on them if you learn your lesson.” The strap is stagnant at his calves as he stays half bent over, eyes on me. I snap. “Stay focused, Trace Calhoun.”

Saying his full name sends a shiver up my spine, causing bumps to sear my flesh. I can’t believe this is happening. This is the first and only time I allow myself a moment to be starstruck. But after he secures the strap over his chastity cage, my mind goes to one thing: riding him and taking the orgasm I’ve been masturbating to for years.

I nod to the large table that’s been turned into a makeshift desk. “Get on your back.”

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