Page 76 of Carnal

Her pussy is mine to lick, not other assholes'.

It's not my business.

Fuck if it isn't.

She needs to be punished for letting others do that to her.

I glance around the room, looking for anything to restrain her to, but my options are pretty limited.

Fuck it. I'll make her submit with nothing but my body.

She deeply inhales, waiting for me to answer. The clock in the room ticks louder. My erection strains against my zipper.

I step back, dragging my eyes over her form-fitting, chocolate-brown minidress. She smoothes the fabric over her stomach, but nothing is out of place. Her cleavage is low enough to make any man drool, but it’s not trashy. The curve of her waist could be on a sculpture. Even her knees are sexy, which I've never noticed on any woman.

I slowly trail my eyes up her body, noticing too many things that make me harder, adding to my anticipation. Her chest rises and falls faster. I reach for her shoulder then swipe my index finger over her collarbone.

Her bottom lip quivers. The faint sound of her breathing fills the air. Golden desire-filled fire erupts in her orbs, but it surprises me. It's the same look she gives me when she's about to submit, yet it's always when we're in the middle of our activities. There's normally a window of time where she grapples with her confusion over her need to obey.

I step forward until she's against the glass. Her body heat soaks into my skin. A combination of roses, lilacs, and lavender floats through the air, almost making me dizzy. She glances up, holding her breath.

I swirl my finger over her dress until her nipple hardens under my touch.

Her voice cracks on my name. "Tristano?"

"What's up, baby girl?"

She swallows hard. "Those things we discussed on the plane..." She licks her lips and wrinkles form on her forehead.

I wrap her hair around my fist until there's no slack. My cock throbs against her stomach at the notion of her sucking me off while I do naughty things to her.

But it quickly disappears. The thought of another man going down on her while at her mercy creates an entirely new problem for me.

What if she has an urge to dominate again?

She won't. I'll make sure she only wants to submit.

She's a switch. At some point, it'll happen.

She's always going to remember them.

She needs to only think about me if she ever has these urges again.

Fuuuck!

I make a new decision. I order, "Don't move." I leave her at the window, go into the closet, and fish through the built-in drawers.

There we go!

What am I doing?

No matter where I go, I always have a suitcase of items I keep on my plane. It allows me to be anywhere and do what I want to do. Anytime I use anything with a new woman, I have Danika replace the items, but they're always identical pieces.

Anxiety creeps through my bones as I stare at the tools. These are all my favorites, and I'm an expert at using them. But it's always when I'm in charge, not others. The fact I'm even contemplating this is crazy.

After a few moments, I pull out a flogger, run my fingers over the black braided leather, and glance at myself in the full-length mirror.

I'm not a sub.

---