Page 268 of Hell Hath No Fury
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, or I will have to get the cane out, and then you’ll have to explain to Roman and Madi why their mummy can’t sit down for Christmas dinner.”
“Sir,” I bow my head with renewed and timely contrition.
“Better.” His tone is softly encouraging, and I love that about him. Total power exchange is still a challenge for me, and I do it because I love him that much. I love to make him happy. That is a rush all its own. His touch is feather light on my cheek, tender and electric. “You know, you look so fucking sexy stretched taut like this, your nipples hard and begging for…hmm, what are they begging for, I wonder?” His lips brush mine once more, and sparks fly, and heat pools like molten lava between my legs. The hand grasping my neck travels languidly along my collarbone down the centre of my heaving chest; his fingers trace a delicate pattern across the swell of my naked breasts. So close, yet stillnot touching the achingly hard nipples. His scorching mouth follows the same torturously slow line with a million tantalising kisses. My breath catches when he opens his mouth, and just as he is about to cover the puckered tip of my nipple and relieve a little of the burgeoning ache, a smile, so nefarious it would be more suited to Satan than Santa, unfurls across his handsome face. He stands back, and it’s all I can do to not curse him out like a foulmouthed sailor; however, the whole ‘not being able to sit down’ threat is still very much present in my mind. I sag, limp with tempered desire and swallow down an audible whimper.
He walks over to the large Japanese dresser made from onyx with beautiful mother of pearl inlays in the panels. It’s antique, quite exquisite, and keeps our private collection of sex toys safely within its lockable drawers. He picks up the gift-wrapped box he placed on it when he came in, next to the toys he has since selected and the ones had asked me to lay out as part of my room preparation duties.
Our everyday life is very different, but within these walls, I crave the high, the release I can only achieve when we play. Where I give myself over to him, my body, my mind, and my power. He already owns my soul; however, this is something primal, raw, and very much needed for us both.
Standing so close to me, all I can feel is the heat we generate, rolling between us in seismic waves. My fingers twitch to touch him. He catches the movement and quickly checks each of my restraints for comfort, causing the biggest smile to fill my face at his misunderstanding.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re fucking perfect, but fine will do. Now, where were we?”
“The box,” I prompt, excited to see what he’s bought.
“Oh, yes, the box.” He pulls the bow loose; the ribbon ripples to the floor as he lifts the lid. Nestled on the crimson velvet cushion are two stunning explosions of ice, a large diamond seems to anchor the strands in the centre of the swirl. They look like two Catherine wheel fireworks made of hundreds of smaller diamonds. He pulls one free and I draw my bottom lip in between my teeth, sucking down the escalating anticipation. They look very much like clip-on earrings. They’re not. My nipples couldn’t be any tighter, perfect for my gorgeous present.
“Oh, they’re beautiful, Jason.” He holds the clip poised and arches his brow. I’m quick to correct myself. “Sir, they’re very beautiful, Sir.”
“Good girl, and not as beautiful as you.” He clips the diamond clamp onto my right nipple and the sting of the pinch is a sharp, sweet agony I feel directly in my clit. He does the same with the other clamp on my left nipple, and I’m pulsing everywhere. The clamps are heavy with the weight of the precious stones, and the slightest movement feels like volts of raw electricity shooting through me. He flicks his finger over the diamond strands, and I jolt.
“Ahh…” Unbelievable heat builds in my core, and even spread like I am, I’m getting no relief from the air conditioned room. I’m on fire.
Tied like this, all I can do is feel…and absorb everything he chooses to do. When his hands begin to sweep across my skin, I feel as if I’m floating in an erotic trance. My skin tingles under his touch, and my heart rate starts to climb with the anticipation. Sucking in large breaths, my chest aches with the effort, and the muscles in my thighs twitch with the desire to close my legs. Even if the friction of squeezing my legs together would be nowhere near enough, it would be something.
“You’re going to need to calm your breathing, baby, or you’ll hyperventilate, and we don’t want this to end before we really getstarted, do we?” His tone is filled with concern, a little playful, yet serious.
“No, definitely not stopping.”
His fingers sweep away the hair that is now sticking to my forehead, and he calms me with his tender touch.
“Good girl,” he rumbles, planting a soft kiss on the end of my nose.
He’s careful to keep some contact with my body, always stroking, as he works his way down my body and works me up into a lust-filled frenzy with his touch.
I’m burning up inside, at the same time shivering, and my skin is prickled with goosebumps. He kneels and presses his hands at the top of my thighs, not that I can prevent him. The extra pressure on my muscles sets a fresh tidal wave of desire to crash over me. Pulling against the restraints, I find myself squealing against my tightly pressed lips when he suddenly covers my clit with his scorching hot mouth. He devours me. Dragging his tongue along my core, he dives inside me like he’s starving. The perfect amount of pressure mixed with unbearably soft lips and just the right amount of rough stubble grinding against me pushes me closer and closer to exploding.
I buck against the restraints, helpless to escape the erotic onslaught. He’s relentless. The spark of my orgasm starts building from deep inside, gaining momentum, and is all set to tear right through me when he stops, just like that. One more stroke of his wicked tongue, and I would’ve come, hard. I know this game, and from hard lessons learnt, I’m stoically tight-lipped. I even manage a slight smile.
My reward is a warm, wide grin and a deeply passionate kiss. I can taste my arousal as his tongue twists and dives with mine, an erotic duel he controls with firm and dominant strokes.
“Oh, God,” I sigh, when he finally releases my lips. “Please.” My plea escapes on a breathy exhale before my brain isreally engaged. My head is a fog of coursing desire, lust, and desperation. I’m a little embarrassed at how quickly I’m begging, and honestly, I usually have more control.
“Oh, baby, so soon? What’s got you so horny?”
“Sexy Santa with Satan’s tongue, taunting me with his massive erection and orgasm denial…hmm, now let me think?”
“Oh, good. Sass. Let’s get you to the bench.”
“Fuck.”
He narrows his eyes, and honestly, I thought I said that in my head. He is deft at unclipping my restraints, and he swiftly lifts me into his arms. He bristles with tension and tempered passion. Even so, he’s still unbelievably tender, and that might be just one more of the reasons I fucking love him. He’s a true master, and in my experience, that’s rare. I’m lucky.
He lowers my feet to the floor but barely gives me a moment to balance before his palm is pressing on my back and I am flat on my stomach on the soft calf leather-covered bench.
