She’s mine and she always will be, but she might yet choose her job over us.
She nods her agreement, and I lead her down the steps into my basement. The place is brightly lit, and I hear the little gasp of wonder, excitement and fear as she steps into the wide, open, mostly empty space. The tiled floor gleams under the lights, my daily ritual of cleaning them showing in the luster.
“How long have you had all this?” she asks as she lets go of my hand to reach out and run her fingers through the leather tails of a soft whip hanging from a wall sconce.
I draw a deep breath, knowing that I can trust her but knowing as well that I’m about to show her all of me, more naked than I’ve ever been with another person. It’s dangerous and that fact alone is intoxicating.
“Some of them I’ve had since I was eighteen,” I tell her. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her to a red ball gag, weighing it in my hand. “This was my first one. I never knew who I wanted it for, I just…”
“Knew it was what you wanted?”
I nod, and watch in awe as she takes it from me. She holds it up to her own face and then opens wide, putting it against her lips.
“Fun,” she whispers, giggling.
“Once the house became mine, I made the basement my own private space. And I started to buy a lot more. Like this.”
I lead her around the corner and she shivers visibly when she sees the polished mahogany St Andrew’s Cross, its very slight angle and integral suede-covered chains for wrists and ankles all part of the design I had custom made. It’s tall enough that I could be strapped to it myself, and the look in her eyes when she turns her face to mine tells me she’s noticed.
“Maybe another time. Today, it’s all for you,” I tell her. “If you’ll give me permission.”
She nods. “I want it to be real this time.” Reaching up, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls herself up against me. I can feel the wet patch between her legs against my pelvis, my cock bobbing at her honey cunt. “I want those.”
I follow her finger as she points, and my heart-rate triples. “You’re sure?”
“I mean it,” she says. “Make it real. I’m in charge here, right?”
“Right.”
She lowers her voice and at the same time lowers her head to my shoulder, still clinging with her legs, her mouth at my ear. “Then I want you to do this for me. Stop being polite and make me your little slut.”
I feel her teeth sink into my shoulder and grit my teeth, hissing a breath as I grip her ass hard, kneading the round orbs between my fingers, pushing the fabric of her leggings up into the crack and wondering how long I can resist getting my fingers—and my cock—inside that tight little hole.
Not long, but today isn’t about that.
The pain in my shoulder is energizing, and I let her take her little moment while I walk with her across to the St Andrew’s Cross. Without saying a word, I pull her away from me, forcing her back against the wooden structure. She growls wordlessly, but I hold her face roughly in one hand as I move with the other, securing her wrists, then leaning down to do the same with her ankles, at eye level with the dark patch between her legs.
Fuck, the smell of her is intense. That scent overwhelming my senses. What’s she worn for me today? Did she know I was going to come for her? Of course she did, how could she not? This connection between us, whatever it is it’s powerful. She must have known this was going to be the outcome.
“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you, kora,” I tell her. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t asked for this.”
I lean in close to her cunt, drawing a deep breath of the salty, musky scent of her, then press my nose into the wet patch, feeling the dampness, pushing my lips up between her spread legs. I can almost feel her drizzling into my mouth as I run my hands up her thighs, then along her mound through the clothing.
“Which ones did you wear, little kitten? The green lacy thong? The white shorts? The black panties?”
She draws a deep breath as I reach higher, under the edge of her t-shirt. “How did you…?”
I laugh. “You think I haven’t been inside your apartment? You think I haven’t run my fingers through your underwear drawer? Seen what makes you feel sexy, needed, wanted?” I stand and watch her eyes searching mine, confusion written all over her face. I know what she’s thinking, and it makes me laugh. When did I have chance to enter her apartment? Did I know who she was before we even met? “It’s a wonder I didn’t steal any, teasing me with them like that. It’s a wonder I didn’t masturbate onto them the way I did with the ones I kept last night.”
I know I’m pushing things further, making her put pieces together. It’s a risk for us, but it’s a calculated one. She can’t and won’t know when I broke in, not yet.
The confusion will put her on edge, making her wonder what all this is about. Do I know who she really is? Am I going to use this moment to make her pay for spying on me?
Or am I still in the dark?
Right now, her mind is racing with those thoughts, and it’s a distraction that will heighten the pleasure.
I take hold of the waistband of her leggings, and lower them slowly, watching her stomach undulate as she cranes her neck to watch what I’m doing. Ah, my first guess was right. The green thong. I reach a finger between her spread thighs and lightly touch it along the damp strip of cloth against her pussy, feeling the soft ridges of her lips. She gasps and mewls, her eyes falling to half-mast.