by W. Winters
As he pulls out, I heave in a breath, staring up at him. His jaw is clenched tight as he groans in pleasure.
“Your mouth is good for two things, my smart-ass girl,” he tells me and pulls away. Leaving me breathing heavily, with a primal need that stirs a burning fire within me.
“Stay,” he commands, backing away, zipping his pants although he’s still very much erect.
I’m left alone on my knees on the other side of the bedroom, catching my breath as he opens the bedroom door. My lips part a moment in protest, until he comes back into view, a duffle bag in hand that he sets onto the bench at the foot of the bed.
“Tonight we’re going to play,” he informs me.
“I want to play.”
His short laugh is nearly condescending. “I’m aware you do, my little rulebreaker.”
“I’ll show you everything I’ve brought first.” He unzips the bag. “You can veto anything you aren’t interested in, and I’ll make a note of it.” He turns to look at me over his shoulder, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve tiptoed up behind him to get a better look.
His gaze is assessing, so much so that I take a hesitant step backward.
“Where did I leave you?” he questions in a murmur, gentle, yet cautioning.
Slowly I lower myself back down, one knee at a time. His piercing gaze ignites something between us. “That’s my good girl,” he comments with a smirk. Turning his attention back to the unzipped duffle bag he tells me, “I’m looking forward to playing with you tonight.”
The first item he hands me is a soft leather blindfold in deep burgundy. It’s simple with matching silk ties, but feels luxurious. It’s certainly not cheap. His compliment brings a warmth to my chest when he says, “The color suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Taking it back from me, he sets it gently on the corner of the bed. It’s unmade and it’s the first time I’ve even considered making the bed since I’ve been home. Before my thoughts are allowed to wander, he tells me, “You respond well to praise. It’s kept me from degrading you.” I don’t miss how he gauges my reaction.
“Degradation, like calling me a whore, spitting, and all that?” I question, not sure how it makes me feel anymore. It’s been a long time since before James.
“What do you think of all of that?”
I take a moment to consider it. Even in my wildest days, it was mild and I was too intoxicated or well past any limit where I would object. Every touch heightened the high. It was different then.
I’ve been called a lot of things, like “little slut” and “my whore.” I remember a time when I loved degradation, it was a part of the scene. It’s a kink that I never imagined would leave me. If a man used it outside of the bedroom, it was obviously different. But within the confines of four walls, it’s different because I know I’m going to get mine and when it’s all said and done, they’d kiss me and tell me what a good girl I was. That was so long ago, though. A lifetime ago. “At one point I enjoyed it.”
“But now?”
“I really just want to please you.”
A huff of humor leaves Zander and he says, “Well that makes two of us.” He doesn’t waste any time pulling out the second item.
“Matching tape.”
“Tape?” The hitch in my voice gives away my hesitancy as Zander holds out a roll of shiny tape in the same deep burgundy shade as the blindfold.
“It only sticks to itself,” he explains, pulling the end free and holding it out for me to feel.
“It’s like PVC tape?”
He nods in response to my question.
“Any objections?” he asks and his tone is neutral. “I know you want to please me, but you should know it would piss me off if you didn’t object if you wanted to.”
Shock at his darkened tone drops my bottom lip slightly. My eyes widen and he stares down at me with a seriousness. Kneeling in front of me, he drops the roll into my hand, lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, his warm breath trailing down the curve of my neck, “I want to feel you come on my dick as many times as you possibly can before you safe word.” My breathing quickens as he leans back, brushing the hair from my face with a casualness that downplays the perversion he just spoke. “It’ll make it harder for me if you lie right now.”
“I was nervous because it’s tape, but it won’t stick to me, like duct tape would.”
“Not at all.”
Gripping the tape tighter, I ask him, “How do you plan to use it?”
“I’ll bind your legs, so they’re bent and you’re easier to position however I want, and your hands and arms … I haven’t decided yet.” His words drift off and his eyes roam down my body before he looks back up at me. “Or maybe some other binding. Do you have a preference?”
“No.”
“Then however the hell I want. I may tie you to the bed frame. Strap you down so you can’t move an inch while I fuck you …” Leaving me with the vision of my wrists being cuffed to the bedposts with this tape, Z turns his back to me, fishing for something in the duffle before pulling out a pair of small silver safety scissors.
Nodding, I hand him back the heavy roll, his fingers brushing against mine and eliciting a rush of adrenaline and heat. “Then no objections.”
A shiver runs down my back with my hair tickling along my shoulders. Every little touch feels heightened knowing I’ll be bound and blindfolded.
The apprehension is an aphrodisiac.
“What should I call you?”
Zander’s brow arches. “Like when we’re in here … when we’re …” A long exhale leaves me, my chest rising and falling with the newly found heat.
“You call me Z,” he answers easily. Although I’m well aware he’s toying with me.
“That’s just a nickname.”
“Like ‘my little jailbird,’” he comments affectionately. He wears a simple smile yet somehow, there’s pride hidden within it.
“I really—” I start to say love. I was going to say love it when he calls me that. Little bird was cute. Jailbird, though … I love it when he calls me that. Swallowing down my admission, I clarify, “I mean, should I call you Sir when we’re in a scene … or something else?”
James like it when I called him Sir. And I loved it. I loved being in a room with him, knowing he could do whatever he wanted and that by the end of the night we’d both be sated and even more in love with each other than we were the day before.
“Two things. The first is that we will always be in scene. There isn’t a moment where I will hesitate to reward or punish you. Is that understood?”
“Yes.” The word rushes out of me with more want than I previously knew existed.
“Second. I’ve barely touched you, Ella. I only just tasted you last night. Honorifics like Master and Sir are earned. It means something more than … the name of an avatar in a game. It’s like a collar.”
“How do you earn it?”
“A collar or an honorific?” he questions, the devilish look in his eye turning me on even more.
“We can consider it when you don’t hesitate to tell me what’s on your mind. When you trust that if I’m asking you a question, it’s because I want nothing but the truth. That my opinion of you and our relationship will remain as it is regardless of what you tell me. That I’ll protect you from all things, including all that insecurity, all that fear, everything and anything that could keep you from being content.”
All I can do is whisper, “So serious.” His thumb graces my lower lip, trailing along it until I part my lips as Zander slips the tip of his thumb into my mouth. His pointer curls under my chin and he tilts my head up, staring deep into my eyes.
“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble,” he warns. Then he informs me, “We’re only getting started, Ella. I have yet to break you in and toy with you.” A wicked grin plays along his handsome face. My heart pounds harder as he drops his grip and brushes the hair from my face. “You have no idea how much I’m lo
oking forward to breaking you in.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but even more heat pools in my core. Longing for him to touch me there. No, needing him there.
My desperation urges a soft sound from my lips. It’s not quite a moan, and merely an audible exhale. Without breaking my gaze, Zander groans deep in his chest, “The fucking sounds you make…” With a gruff sound he turns away from me, tossing the duffle bag with more force than necessary to the floor. It doesn’t escape me that there is more in it, but I’m not given a moment to question what it could be.
Instead, Z commands me, “Get on the bed, I’m ready to play with you.”
Zander
Ready to play is an understatement. I’m rock hard, my adrenaline pounding, ready. Ella is so fucking beautiful with her cheeks flushed like that. So willing. So submissive. I want her under more of my control. I want all of her.
We’ll take it slow so she learns what she’s agreed to. It hasn’t escaped me that she compares what she had before to what we’re doing now, and there’s no chance in hell that James knew what the fuck he was doing. They toyed around with the idea of submission. I have every intention of training her to be my submissive.
It’s essential that I don’t dive in too deep with her too fast, though I want to. God, I want to. Every inch of me craves every inch of her with a physical longing.
Four-count breaths. Four of them. Trailing along the edge of each of the additional toys I bought just for her, I control everything. I have to be in control of myself before I can be in control of her. I have to stay in control of myself, damn it.
She perches on her knees on the edge of the bed, her nightgown a silk puddle next to her. I approach her slowly so she has time to take me in. To see how I rise above her. How much stronger. How much restraint I have. That’s an easy one. Instead of pushing her back on the bed and abandoning myself to her, I run my fingers through her hair and arrange it over her bare shoulders. The shudder that runs down her teased skin travels lower and hardens her nipples. I’m careful with every touch, and Ella responds to it, her large dark eyes on mine. She trembles under my hand.
I could do this for fucking hours. It’s a drug to me. To tease her and immediately receive this reaction. Her shuddered breaths and every small movement as she nervously waits on the bed for my next move are addictive.
Anticipation is an essential part of any scene. It’s what adds the tension to the air and the color to her cheeks. With my voice low, it rumbles, giving away my desire that’s barely contained. “What are you imagining right now, jailbird?”
“You,” she says in a breathy voice. “With your hands on me. I don’t—” Her face gets redder. “I don’t know if I can give you specifics. So many things. Mostly just the—just the sensation of being—”
“Dominated?”
The air cracks with a heat between us, only inches separating each other. “Yes.”
My muscles coil, holding back everything just so I can offer her my thumb running down her bottom lip. Taking one step back, putting space between us, but keeping her gaze locked in mine, I tell her, “You’re going to be good for me.”
I phrase it as a statement and not a question to fill her with confidence. She can do this, and I believe in her. I know how she needs this.
Ella nods, a sheen coming to her eyes. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes. I am.”
It’s another reminder that I have to be gentle and guide her into this lifestyle. She thinks she knows what she’s getting, but she doesn’t have a fucking clue.
“I’m going to blindfold you now. Hands in your lap.”
My little jailbird closes her eyes before the burgundy leather even touches her. She’s so fucking good for me.
I fasten it over her eyes, testing to make sure it’s snug. Ella’s nipples peak and I allow myself an opportunity to run my knuckles down her skin, until they run over those hardened nubs. The small moan from her parted lips and the way she attempts to prevent her back from arching are everything I’ve wanted since I first saw her.
“How does it feel?” I murmur.
Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips. “It feels like everything’s been heightened. The air on my skin. The sound of your voice. It makes me question—” She stops herself, shaking her head.
“What does it make you question?”
“That’s not the right word for it. It makes me think that I trust you. It wouldn’t feel good to have my sight taken away like this if I didn’t trust you. And I feel—I feel safe.” More color floods to her cheeks. “Nervous, but safe.”
“Good.” I’m deliberately loud as I pick up the roll of tape from the bed and let her hear me unspool a length of it. She shudders at the sound. “Because I’m going to bind you now.”
If I were selfish, I wouldn’t bother to bind her. The sight of her as she is, sprawled out and waiting, her pale skin flushed, her lips parted and her chest rising and falling with anticipation is intoxicating.
She would fight the urge and I’d love to see her try and fail. To punish her for not being in control of her body for me. A low groan of want leaves me and I disguise it with a comment.
“Turn onto your belly, legs spread wide and hands behind your back.”
There are plenty of toys I could have used instead of tape. Bondage gear and straps. The tape allows me to take my time and it’s far less frightening for a submissive who hasn’t been bound before.
Her breathing quickens as I draw out the tape, giving her the simple command to lift her chest off the bed. I let her feel it glide against her skin so she can feel for herself that it’s not going to hurt her.
It doesn’t require much tape at all to bind her, but the sound, the sensation, the prolonged time will make it appear far more than it is. I don’t let her know that. I let her sit in the feeling of being helpless at my hands.
I go so slow my cock twitches. Whenever I grab her small body, maneuvering her as I need, she lets out the most innocent gasps. With my erection pressed into her thigh, I lean down and whisper at the shell of her ear, “You’re doing so well.” With a small peck on her shoulder, I add, “Good girl.”
My sweet girl smiles, even through her shaky breath. “Thank you,” she whispers, her lips trying to find mine. I could leave her there, not allowing her to seek out a damn thing while we’re in this scene. But then I’d be denying myself, and I’m man enough to admit I want to kiss her as badly as she wants to kiss me. She’s eager when my lips meet hers, her body arching, although her arms have already begun to be bound.
Tsking, I pull away. “Be my good girl.”
Nodding eagerly, she moans that she will as I gently place her back down where I want her, my hand splaying against her shoulder blade, keeping her there so I can continue.
The tape groans as I pull more of it, and every time I do, her body shudders with her instinct to move.
She hasn’t set any boundaries when it comes to being bound, but sometimes subs don’t know what those are until you’re in the moment. Ella’s lips part, her body coming alive with more tension, but she doesn’t protest. Doesn’t use her safe word.
Ella’s breathing is heavier and her entire chest is flushed by the time I run my fingertips down her inner thighs after binding her thighs to her calves. The small moans she gives me are fucking everything. She can’t close her legs to me, but she tries. On instinct. I know she doesn’t want to; controlling a natural reaction is difficult and something tells me Ella doesn’t have a damn bit of experience when it comes to that. As I move off the bed to observe her, I give the command, “Don’t move,” and the words are nearly caught in the back of my throat when I see how fucking wet she is for me. Her seam glistens with arousal.
It takes her a moment to relax into her bindings. As the sheets rustle beneath her, all I do is wait. It’s obvious that she’s trying so hard to stay still, but not hard enough. She’ll learn the way to stay completely still is to submit to it the way she should be submitting to me, with everything she
has. Ella’s not there yet. I haven’t had enough time with her. But I will. My blood heats at the thought of spending hours on this. Days and days of praising her while she gets off on obeying.
Speaking of obedience—
With a hand on each of her thighs, I flip her over. Without any warning, she yelps, the sound high and feminine and all Ella. A rough chuckle leaves me as she lies on the bed naked, legs spread and completely bared to me. Even as she catches her breath I know she can hear my pleasure in the low groan from the sight of her. Hearing and touch are her most prominent senses right now, which means everything I do in those realms carries more weight.
“You’re at my mercy now, jailbird,” I whisper and then easily flip her again so her arms aren’t behind her, uncomfortably supporting her weight. “Do you remember your safe word?” The question is as much of a reminder for her as it is a way for me to ensure she’s still in the right frame of mind. Deprivation can play tricks on even the most mentally sound. For a grieving widow … well, I haven’t forgotten her struggles.
“Yes,” Ella whispers back.
“Good girl.”
The first vibrator is ready for me. Ella turns her head so her other cheek is against the comforter, her shoulders rising and falling with every breath she takes. I flip the switch and the vibrations fill the air. I let it go on long enough that it takes over. What else can she hear, other than this? Nothing. I make sure the sound of the vibrator is everything. She waits, patient and submissive. Not that she has any other choice. Ella’s helplessly bound, her hands behind her back, her legs spread open for me, and—
When I’m done with her, I’ll climb onto the bed behind her and drive myself into her slick wetness until we’re both spent. The desire to do that right fucking now is overwhelming. I need her as much as she needs me. Four-count breaths. In and out, focusing on control. On conditioning her to listen and trust, to obey above everything else. Even when the tempting release of pleasure is so very close.
“You will obey me, my little jailbird. I have a set of rules and there will be consequences if you don’t abide by them. You need to do as you’re told. Do you understand?”
