Page 11 of Dominated

“I told you not to doubt me, Pepper.” He released what almost sounded like a chuckle. “Although I’m not mad that you did. I’ve been dying to know how sweet your cunt smells.” He looked at my pussy like he wished he were eating it. “She certainly didn’t disappoint.” His eyes then connected with mine. “In fact, I already miss her.”

What is happening?

What is he doing to me?

It’s not supposed to be this way, not in this room, but I’m not stopping it.

I … want more.

Of him.

He was still kneeling between my lower legs, his hands now at his neck, where he loosened his tie, pulling it enough that he could slip it over his head. “We’re going to be here for a while. Time to get comfortable.” He unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off with his jacket, and finally stepped onto the floor, where he dropped his pants and removed his socks and shoes.

The only thing left was his boxer briefs.

And—oh God—what a sight it was.

A body that was well-trained and taken care of, full of muscles and ripples, cords and veins.

Jacob and Luke often took their shirts off to decrease the restriction a button-down could cause and also to help with their sweating.

But I never saw their cocks.

I didn’t care to. I had zero interest in what was inside their pants.

But Bale’s hard-on was taunting me.

Calling to me.

His shaft was so long that when he adjusted himself again, tucking the head under the elastic waist of his boxer briefs, the mushroom tip peeked out from the top. The ridge was thick, and a bead of pre-cum bubbled in the center, waiting to be licked.

“I know you wanted something to look at.” He came closer until he was standing near my face, his palm cupping his hardness through the fabric. “This should be more than enough to keep your eyes busy.”

My gaze slowly rose to his.

“Pleased with what you see, Pepper?”

I inhaled.

I swallowed.

“I thought so.” He smirked, and he turned his back to me and went over to the armoire, removing a flogger that he brought over to the side of the table. “Round two.”

The moment his voice silenced, the leather flap at the end of the long stick landed on my clit.

I exhaled a swish of air, followed by, “Ahhh,” as he rubbed the soft material up and down and across me.

He didn’t press too hard; he didn’t move too fast.

He just gave me what I wanted.

What I needed.

I pulled at the shackles, the rope biting the skin around my hands and ankles.

But I didn’t care.

The pain offset the pleasure.

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