I do what he says, mimicking him until I'm fully relaxed and nothing feels bad.
"Everything is okay, pet," he claims, slips another finger inside me, then slowly creates a twisting pattern.
I whimper, unsure why I'm enjoying what he's doing.
He keeps his eyes locked on me, calmly asking, "Who owns you, Blakely?"
I don't think about it and answer, "You do, Sir."
He nods. "And who do you submit for?"
"You, Sir."
"Who else?"
I try to shake my head, but it's still pressed against the quartz.
"Who else?" he gently repeats.
"No one."
"No one, who?"
"No one, Sir," I affirm.
He kisses my cheek and adds a third finger.
"Oh God!" I moan.
"Shh. No talking, pet."
I swallow hard, trying to be quiet, but it's impossible, and I whimper loudly.
"We have a lot of work to do," he claims.
I can't even contemplate what he's referring to. The sensations moving through me, I've never felt before. It's a rush of endorphins I never expected, not because I'm coming. It's from the taboo of his actions and how I want him to continue.
He removes his fingers, and I instantly feel empty. I press my ass toward him. He chuckles. "Greedy girl," he says, then slides something else into me.
I don't know what it is, but it's not his fingers. My voice cracks. "Riggs?"
He smacks my ass, and a sting spreads across my cheek. I yelp, and he says, "Who?"
"Sir!"
He warns, "The sooner you learn, the better." He rubs the sting and asks, "You're surprised, aren't you?"
I remain silent.
Cockiness flares all over Riggs. "Admit you love everything I've done to you, Blakely."
For some reason, defiance reignites inside me.
He smirks. "No? I guess I'll stop, then." He backs away from me.
"No! Wait!" I blurt out before I can even think about what I'm doing.
He purses his lips and traces the edge of whatever is inside me, commanding, "Confess you like it and don't forget the 'Sir.'"