I walked down the hallway to my office, entered and sat down in my large, wooden desk chair, drink in hand. I placed one last thing for her on the wide, flat, empty surface. Then I waited for her to come to me.
Tonight would be her introduction to submissive play. I’d make her work for me and I’d discipline her. It would require a lot of restraint from me. I’d had many years to cultivate my cravings, and now they howled to be let out. But I needed to hold back. I’d always had to hold back with Kara. All those long, torturous months back when we’d first met. All of the intervening years.
Tonight would be tame, a test to see how she responded. I’d see if I couldn’t make her yearn to serve me. I had a feeling I could make Kara discover a craving she never knew she had. But I needed to build things slowly. If I tended the fire in her, stoked it so her pleasure overcame any shyness or reservations, I bet by the end of the night I’d have her begging for my discipline. Then we’d have the whole week together to explore and explode.
Shy, moving slowly, she finally emerged. I was glad I was sitting down. I swallowed but remained seated, surveying her intently as she approached.
She wore stiletto heels and sheer black stockings that ended in a band mid-thigh. Small fasteners connected a garter belt to a short, sheer black skirt with a lacy frill along the edge. Could it be called a skirt when it just skimmed the edge of her pussy? I could see her sex outlined through the lace, black in a g-string thong underneath. The sheer, demi-cup bra revealed so much of the swell of her breasts, pushing them up and out but still covering the tips of her nipples with an inch of lace.
Hesitant, yes, but I could see her sensuality in the way she moved, the slightly languorous way she placed one foot in front of the other in those heels. The way she held her shoulders back, erect posture for me, giving me the full display I desired. Little white satin bows flitted along the tops of the stockings, the edges of the skirt, the bottom of the bra. They gave the outfit the coquettish vibe of a French maid without going over-the-top Halloween costume. I already knew the bow I liked the most: the one in back of the bra I could use to take it off.
But not yet. First, play time.
She stood before me, her long blonde hair drawn up into a neat high ponytail, just like I’d instructed. She looked to the side, flushing pink.
I scrutinized her from top to bottom as if she’d come in for a job interview with a tough, demanding boss. The skirt rested low on her hips. She started to fidget with it as if embarrassed by how little it covered, trying to pull it down.
“Stand still,” I commanded. I didn’t want her covering herself up. That wasn’t in the cards tonight.
She pouted slightly, but brought her hands to her sides, standing back at the ready.
Sitting in my chair, drink in hand, I nodded at my desk in front of me. The surface lay bare except for a feather duster.
“Pick it up,” I ordered.
“The duster?” she asked, hesitant.
“Now.”
She hurried to grab it. Clearly awkward, she stood pressing it to her thigh, almost hiding it behind her leg. Like if she did I couldn’t see it.
“Start over here.” I pointed to some built-in shelves by my side, as if giving orders to new help.
Kara looked at me, unsure. I could tell she hadn’t done any role-play before. I was happy to give her instructions, but I was a strict teacher with high expectations.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I warned her.
Not meeting my eyes, she took a few steps over to the shelving. Half-hearted, she lifted the duster up and moved it around an edge.
That wouldn’t do.
“Do you see this?” I swiftly stepped in front of her, ran my index finger across a low shelf and held it up to her face, close. “Filthy,” I said, low and husky. Her eyes flicked up to meet my own, nervous. “You’re going to need to bend down and really get in there.” I pointed down low.
She looked where I directed her, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Then something seemed to click. She stopped doubting and gave herself over to it. She took a small step forward and slowly, deliberately placed one heel to the side, then the other about three feet away. Nice. I liked seeing her legs spread. And then, like something out of my fantasies, she slowly arched the small of her back, lifting up her perfectly rounded ass, and lowered herself down to the shelf I’d told her to clean.
I took a sip from my drink and watched her. Straight, long legs like a dancer, jacked up on those heels. She kept her back straight, doing all of the bending at her hips. The position forced her ass up high, on display, perfect for me to see everything.
I walked around slowly, stalking her, stopping right in back. Legs spread, the lace skirt ended high up on her crack, barely covering her bottom. She still wore her g-string thong, the V of satin at the top visible beneath the lace. Putting my drink down on the bar, I focused all of my attention on her. Down between the swell of her ass cheeks, I could see the plump outline of her pussy, so close to me and yet still covered.
She moved her feather duster along the shelf, giving each inch full attention. I could see her breath coming fast, not quite panting yet but excited, the cool air against her ass cheeks, heat building in her sex. Vividly, I pictured bringing a finger up between her legs and running it slowly down that patch of fabric, heightening the sensation of the silk against her shaved slit. My cock pressed against my jeans. But I wouldn’t touch her, not yet.
As if she could feel the intensity of my gaze, she squirmed a bit, tilting her butt slightly away from me. Distracted, she stopped dusting.
With a sharp smack, I spanked her bare bottom. Not too hard, but I had the element of surprise. She gasped, her free hand grasping the edge of the shelf tight.
“Keep working,” I ordered her, gruff.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Taking her punishment, she brought her pink bottom back into position, thrust out for me to do what I wanted. The feather duster started moving again, bit by bit.
“Good,” I praised her, stroking just one finger along her inner thigh. “I need you to hold still and work for me.” I could feel her quivering, but she kept her position, ass up, legs spread, head and shoulders down.
I traced her cheeks as she kept dusting. Lightly caressing her, up along the edges of her tiny skirt, I reminded her how much she exposed. I ran my fingers down her inner thigh, then up again, so close to her sex, but not touching. Not even grazing her. But I could feel it in her breathing, see it in the way she held herself, so tense, so coiled. She craved my touch.
One hand resting on her ass cheek, I angled her up slightly. Finally, slowly, deliberately, I brought a finger between her legs and up against her pussy. I pressed the fabric into her folds. Wet for me. I hissed in approval. She gave a small moan in response and pressed back against my finger.
“Keep working,” I reminded her. She stilled, working hard to restrain herself. Then she moved the duster again as she’d been told. Still separated by a strip of silk, I kept my finger on her throbbing slit, moving so gently, so leisurely, perusing her folds. I’d graze her clit, tease it for a moment, then leave it.
“Do you remember, Kara?” I began in a low voice as I stroked her. “Back when I first met you. Those summers I worked at your ranch?”
“Yes.” The ache in her moaned response made me hard as a rock. I loved seeing her bent over for me, doing as I told her.
“Remember how you used to tease me? You’d strut around the ranch in miniskirts.”
“No, I didn’t tease!” She looked around at me, wide-eyed, innocent.
I gave her a sharp spank. Her eyes closed with the intensity of my touch.
“You loved it,” I corrected her, cutting off her weak protest, then continued to stroke her. “You wore tank tops so tight I could see every inch of your tits. Daisy Dukes cut up to here.” I traced a line along the swell of her cheek and she moaned, pushing her ass toward my hand. “I couldn’t touch you the
n. I could look, but I couldn’t do this.”
In a swift, rough motion I ripped off her g-string and threw it to the side. I knelt now, bringing my face exactly level with her sex. Her breath became a pant. I brought my hands to the base of her ass, thumbs wrapped under inside her inner thighs. My large, insistent fingers spread her even more open for me. She complied, nudging her feet further apart.
I brought a worshipping finger to her wet, swollen folds. “I used to watch you, Kara, and wonder if you were wet like this for me.”
“Yes, Declan,” she moaned.
Soaked in her juices, I brought my finger to my mouth to taste. Salty and sweet, just like her. I needed more. “This is what I wanted to do to you.”
Without another word, I brought my hot tongue to her pussy, giving her a long, slow lick. Spreading her folds, I began stroking her with my tongue, licking and sucking, teasing her swollen nub. When she began bucking against my face, I went further, plunging my tongue up inside her while bringing a finger to her clit, circling, stroking while my tongue fucked her.
Her breathing grew ragged. Her moans began to turn into a scream of pleasure. Just as I could feel her begin to tense up for release, I stopped. I drew back a few inches. Blowing across her wetness, the cool sensation made her twist and moan.
“No coming yet, Kara,” I warned her, wickedly. She whimpered in protest. “I had to wait a long time to get what I wanted. You used to get me so hard. Even after you started meeting me down at the barn. I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you. Not the way I wanted.”
“Declan!” she moaned, my words seeming to bring her even closer to climax.
“I used to jerk off, picturing you like this.” Bent over, her legs splayed, she displayed her bare pussy, slick and needy for me.
“Declan,” she panted, “I need—”
“Turn around and stand up.” I issued the command in a harsher, darker tone. Her knees were weak and wobbly with desire, but she complied. She used the shelving to help her to rise up. She turned and stood before me, her skin flushed deep pink with arousal, her lips parted, her hair still up in a ponytail but not neat any longer as several strands escaped in tendrils around her face. Her lips parted slightly, she looked at me with fierce longing.
I almost took her mouth with my own, wrapping my arms around her in a crushing embrace. But not yet. No rewards yet.
Her nipples stood out, pushing against the lace boarder on her bra. I stepped closer, bending down slightly as if to inspect them. Kara whimpered and her breathing ratcheted up once again. Under my scrutiny, my hot breath across her skin, her nipples peaked even more. I traced a finger across the lace, skimming the tips. She tilted her head back, hands fisted by her sides, her eyes closed.
I flicked my tongue across her erect nipples, still wrapped under the lace. Then I brought a finger along the edge. Slowly, so slowly, I pushed it away. The bra down below her mounds, her nipples popped out, explicit and begging for attention.
“Yes!” she mewled. “Please, oh, yes!”
But she was being naughty. She was enjoying herself instead of remembering her purpose. She was there to service me, to give me pleasure. Grabbing her swiftly around the waist, I sat down on the edge of my desk and hauled her over. I pulled her across my lap, backside up ripe and ready.
“You are here to serve me.” I brought my hand down with a hard smack. She gasped and tensed. Leaving my hand on her ass, I caressed her curves with my fingers, dipping down once more to her wet heat. The pain followed by the pleasure drove her wild. She groaned, twisting in my lap, desperate to press against the hardness of my cock. I brought my hand down on her again and again, assaulting her soft, pink cheeks with harsh smacks. Then I angled my large hand so my fingers landed on her pussy. I started following each stinging whack with a long, demanding stroke.
“Declan!” she screamed, so close, right on the edge. I brought my hand down and quickly shifted her, turned her so she was sitting up in my lap. One hand fisted in her hair to tilt her head back, I brought the other hand to her ripe breast. I took the aching nipple between my fingers and gave it a twist. She screamed again, about to come, digging her ass into the rigid budge of my cock.
“Don’t come,” I growled down close into her ear, rolling her nipple between my fingers, lightening the pressure into a caress, then clamping down again. Swiftly, I slid a hand down again to her molten core, stroking her there. Reading her every reaction, I worked the waves and near crests of her desire. I teased and tormented her ripe, aching nipples. I slid one, then two fingers into her slick folds, plunging in deep, then withdrawing, then plunging in again.
Just as I could feel her starting to disobey me, starting to let her quivering and moaning mount into shudders of ecstatic release, I withdrew my hands. I placed her to the side and abruptly stood up. She leaned against the desk for support, her eyes glazed with lust. I nearly forgot my game looking down at her like that, so very much mine, belonging only to me.
I took a few steps back.
“Stay there,” I ordered, then strode out of the room and over to the bar to fix myself a new drink. I needed to put some distance between us. This was about getting her fired up, but I needed to stay cool. The ice in my drink had melted. I’d been playing with her for a long time.
She liked this game, this play of power. I was giving her a mere glimpse at the BDSM world, a taste of how it felt to be a sub serving her dom. I’d figured she’d like it, but I hadn’t been prepared for how much. Or the rush I felt with it, the thrill she gave me as she responded so rapidly and intensely to my commands and punishments. I needed to keep my shit together.
A minute later, cold glass of bourbon in hand, I re-entered my office. She stood at my desk where I’d left her, the palms of her hands pressed to the surface at either side as if propping herself up. It also had the effect of thrusting her shoulders back, her tits out, her nipples hard, aching and raw with need.
I approached her. With one hand, I stroked her skin, appreciating the smoothness of her tapered waist, the swell of her hips. She panted as I caressed her. That was how I wanted her all week. I wanted the slightest touch from me to coax a dramatic response, a spark of my physical dominance igniting her flame within.
I set my drink down on the desk. With one finger, I lightly traced the outline of her slippery sex. I crooked the other finger under her chin, making her look up at me with those lustrous, pleading eyes. Then I slipped my other finger down into her juicy folds. She gasped.
“So wet,” I murmured in appreciation. “Are you wet for me?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Say it.”
“I’m wet for you, Declan. You make me so wet.” Wanton, her lust made her uninhibited. She gave me exactly what I wanted.
But she needed more punishment. “Pick up the duster,” I commanded, pointing an accusing finger at it. She’d dropped it when I’d pulled her across my lap to spank her. Shaking slightly, she bent down and retrieved it, her swollen nipples now fully exposed, her shaved pussy glistening and slick between her legs.
“Over here.” I stood behind my desk, making her walk around to the other side of the mahogany expanse. Pointing to the immaculate surface, I ordered, “Dust it.”
Heels apart, ass up, she bent over and assumed the position, eager and desperate. With her back straight down over the desk, her exposed breasts splayed out above the smooth surface. I looked at her drenched slit and could feel the satisfaction of taking her. I knew she’d come instantly, then again and again as I fucked her hard and deep and relentless.
But for now, I went back to tracing her cheeks. “Keep dusting,” I reminded her. She dutifully moved the feathers over the surface.
“Remember how I used to work for you?” I asked in a deep, husky voice. “I was a lowly ranch hand. You were up in the house on the hill.” She said nothing, breathless, as if hanging on my every word. My fingers swept and swirled, drawing her under my spell.
“Now you work for me.” I plu
nged a finger deep into her wet heat, pressing my other hand on her back to force her sensitive nipples and breasts onto the cool, gleaming wooden surface of the desk.
“Now, you do what I say. I’m in charge.” Her moans mingled with my commands.
Hand up, I spanked her again, then stroked and teased. Then another firm slap until she was nearly begging and crying out in shaking need, a trail of her juice sliding down her inner thigh.
“Please, Declan,” she begged, straining against my finger. First I used one, then two, then three fingers to fuck her deep in her hot, tight, pussy. Then I brought a thumb up to tease her quivering asshole, circling, caressing.
“Please,” she pleaded, begging for my fingers to go deeper. My huge cock strained for release, desperate to ram inside of her.
“You like serving me, don’t you?” I demanded.
“Yes,” she moaned, panting, begging. All pretense of dusting gone now, her fingers spread wide against the desk. I stroked her glistening mound and rubbed her clit.
“So wet,” I praised. She trembled and moaned against me. “Do you want me inside of you?”
“Yes!” she moaned.
“That’s good,” I grit out, my teeth clenched. “Beg me, Kara.”
“Please, Declan,” she begged, thrusting her hips toward my hand. “Please fuck me!” Her voice sounded urgent, her eyes closed. Spread out over my desk, tits bare on the cold surface, she begged for me to take her with her words, her legs spread wide, her sex dripping and throbbing. Making fast work of my belt and buckle, I undid my pants and slid down my briefs. My giant, hard cock sprang out, veins engorged, ready to pound.
“Remember those nights together in the barn, kissing in the darkness?” I asked. She whimpered in response, panting. “I couldn’t do this back then. But I can now.”
Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) Page 25
