Page 44 of Tied

“And I was worried you had forgotten how to be my good little slut,” he whispers, bringing his face close to mine. “But look at you now, so eager, so ready to please me.”

His words dance through my core like firecrackers, bringing heat and excitement to every fiber of my being.

I sway into him, hollowing my back just a tad more and pushing my upper body forward in hopes of meeting his skin with mine. But he withdraws just as my breasts kiss the steely muscles of his chest, bringing his hands up to my shoulders to push me back.

“You are such a greedy little thing, Riley,” he reprimands.

His gaze wanders lower, pausing on my protruding breasts. The smirk on his face turns evil as his hands follow the same path, grazing along my collarbones before he cups my breasts with both hands. I lean into his touch, shifting on his lap as I try to accommodate my yearning for him while still following the rules he set. He is in command—he always was with me, and I’m at his mercy, a big smile on my face.

I shouldn’t be smiling. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. But I do, and this is exactly what I need right now.

Pain cuts through my body like a hot, searing dagger when he takes both my nipples between his fingers and twists them. The initial pinch is so intense that I almost forget about the weak tie around my wrists, testing the loose knot to its limits as my arms move instinctively to protect myself from his infliction. His touch softens just enough for me to breathe through the pain that slowly ebbs into a throbbing afterthought.

“Please, please…”

“Please what little girl?”

“Please let go?”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

He squeezes again, holding my buds in a tight grip as he slowly pulls me closer. I’m mewling, trying to hold my stance with my arms behind my back as I fight the urge to push his hands away. And just a moment later, I find myself wishing for the opposite when he lets go of me voluntarily. He frees my hardened nipples and moves his hands down to my waist. I squeal in surprise as he lifts me from his lap and throws me onto the sheets next to him. I land on my back with my hands still secured beneath me.

“Spread for me,” he commands while jumping up from the bed. My heart flutters when I see him reach for his zipper.

“Now!” he urges, and the expression on his face turns dark.

“Y-y-yes, sir,” I utter in response. I am filled with shameful heat that blends beautifully with the warmth still pulsating through my tortured buds. I don’t like pain per se, but I like what it does to me. I like the crests of comfort that mix with the receding adrenaline pumping through my body in response to his violent assault.

“Are you wet for me?” He is towering over me as I lay in front of him, naked, tied and with my legs spread apart for his pleasure.

I bite my lower lip as I contemplate my response. How much trouble do I want to be in? Do I want to be a good girl for him and be rewarded in return—or do I want to play?

Under normal circumstances, I would probably go for the latter and respond with a sassy remark just to tease him. But I have had enough of that lately—enough trouble, enough pain, and enough hardship. Right now, all I want is the sweet kiss of bliss.

“I am,” I whisper, throwing him a demure look. “I am wet for you, sir.”

“Good, because I’m in no mood to wait.”

A sinister flicker in his eyes tells me that he shares my impatience—and so does the fact that he’s already rock hard when he pulls down his pants. My eyes immediately wander to the steely length at his middle, strutting at me as if to guide the way, the thick tip glistening with precum.

He moves closer, lifting me up by my hips once again to make room for himself between my legs.

“You know the rules,” he says, teasing me by sliding the head of his cock between my wet folds.

“Mhm,” I murmur, drunken with lust as I fight to stay in place and obey his demands.

“Tell me,” he breathes. “What’s the first rule?”

Oh my God, I can’t believe he’s doing this to me.

I close my eyes for a moment to stop myself from rolling them at him. I don’t want trouble, I don’t want to anger him—all I want is for him to fuck me.

“No… no coming without permission.”

He nods. “Good girl. What else?”

My heart races anxiously. Fuck, what is he referring to? The ribbon?

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