Page 48 of Bound By Honor

“Close your eyes,” I command softly, testing the waters of her surrender. She complies instantly, and pride mingles with desire. “Good girl. Keep them closed.”

I move to stand before her, cupping her face. “Do you know what you do to me, Aurora? The mighty Salvatore princess, surrendering her control...” My thumb traces her lower lip. “But only to me.”

“Only you,” she whispers, and the words feed something possessive inside me.

“Put your hands behind your back.” My voice drops lower as she obeys. “I’m going to touch you now. You don’t move unless I say so. Understand?”

Her breath catches. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” I let authority color my tone.

“Yes... Sir.” The word falls from her lips like a prayer.

“Perfect.” I reward her with a gentle caress. “Remember your safe words. I want to hear you use them if anything becomes too much.”

A slight nod, her pulse racing under my fingers. I’ve commanded armies of men, controlled vast territories, but nothing compares to the power of her willing submission. This fierce, independent woman who challenges everyone... choosing to surrender to me.

I trail the silk tie across her shoulders, down her spine, relishing in her shiver of anticipation. “I’m going to bind your hands now. Color?”

“Green,” she breathes.

The silk wraps around her wrists, a sensual caress and a reminder of my control. I turn her to face the window, the city lights painting her skin in a golden glow.

I select a leather flogger from the chest at the foot of our bed, the tails soft and supple in my hand. “I’m going to mark you now,” I tell her, tracing the flogger down her spine. “I’m going to leave my claim on your skin. Color?”

“Green,” she says, her voice trembling with anticipation. “So green.”

The first strike is gentle, a mere whisper of leather against skin. She gasps, her back arching. I build the intensity slowly, each strike a little harder than the last. Her soft moans tell me she’s floating in that space between pain and pleasure, her body responding to each strike with increasing arousal.

“That’s it, baby,” I encourage her. “Let the pleasure wash away the pain.”

Soon, her skin is pink and flushed, criss-crossed with the marks of my claim. The way she moves, seeking more contact, tells me she’s ready for more.

I pause, setting the flogger aside. Moving to stand in front of her, my fingers thread through her hair. “On your knees,” I command softly.

She sinks down gracefully, her bound hands resting at the small of her back. The sight of her like this—marked by my hand, willingly submitting—makes my blood burn.

“Open your mouth,” I instruct, guiding myself to her lips. “Take me deep, Aurora. Let me feel your throat.”

She complies eagerly, her mouth hot and wet around me. Her moan vibrates through me as she takes me deeper, and I can see how much this affects her—the submission, the slight edge of pain from her marked skin, the pleasure of serving me—it all combines to drive her higher.

I grip her hair tighter, controlling her movements. “Look at me,” I command.

Her eyes meet mine, glazed with that perfect mixture of submission and desire..

“Perfect,” I praise her. “You’re perfect like this, surrendering everything to me.”

Her thighs press together, seeking friction, and I can see how wet she is, how much this exchange of power arouses her. The combination of pain and pleasure, of serving and being served, has pushed her into that transcendent space where everything narrows down to sensation and submission.

After a few intense minutes, I reluctantly pull away from her mouth. She looks up at me, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes heavy with desire. The marks on her skin have settled into a pleasant burn, evident in the way she shifts slightly, seeking the sensation.

“Stand up,” I tell her, helping her to her feet. “You did so well, taking both the pain and the pleasure. Now, it’s time for your reward.”

I unclasp her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her nipples are hard peaks, sensitive from the heightened state of arousal the flogging brought her to. I cup her breasts in my hands, feeling their weight.

“These are mine,” I growl, pinching her nipples between my fingers. The mix of sharp pain and pleasure makes her gasp, her head falling back against my shoulder. “Your pleasure belongs to me.”

“Yes,” she breathes, pressing back against me. “Yours. Always yours.”

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