Page 32 of Violent Delights

He doesn’t give me a response, but leads me back into the bedroom. Hope blossoms in my chest when he leads me toward the bed and attaches the leash to the black frame. He gestures for me to get on the bed, and I oblige, unsure how he wants me to position myself. I sit on my heels, the only position he has taught me so far, my hands resting on my thighs, as I cast a questioning look up at him. My naked heels feel like hot daggers piercing through the tortured skin on my ass as I sit on them.

He’s standing next to the bed, shaking his head while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Not today,” he repeats, and my heart sinks.

“Isn’t that why you brought me here?” I ask. “To fuck me? To have me please you?”

He smiles.

“This is pleasing me,” he says. “Seeing you like this is pleasing me.”

I lower my eyes, averting his gaze.

“Why are you not fucking me?” I ask. My question not only comes from my greedy need for him to take me, but also because he scares me. His reluctance to do the obvious scares the hell out of me.

“Because that’s not what we’re doing today,” he says.

I clasp my hands together, suddenly awfully aware of my own nakedness, now that the heated vertigo from before is dissipating.

“What are we going to do today, Master?” I ask, lifting my chin to look up at him.

He has his hands buried in his suit pants, again sporting a visible bulge in his crotch. This did turn him on, he wants to fuck me. A man cannot hide his need that easily.

What the hell is wrong with him?

I can ask this question all day long and not find an answer to it.

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