Sexy erotic D/s fiction. Sexually explicit, obviously. *smirk* Enjoy.
If you missed Part 1 or Part 2, check them out first.
Squirming beneath him, I evade his thumb for only a second before he brushes it over my nipple again. It’s hard and aching for a solid pinch.
“I’m letting go of your wrists now,” he says with a reprimanding look. “Stay put.”
I smirk. Leaving my cuffed wrists free over my head is not the smartest move. I keep this to myself. If I don’t, he’ll tether me to the bed and make me pay for the rude assessment of his plan.
He notes my reaction with a raised brow and the butterflies in my stomach spread their wings.
“Is there a problem, kitten?”
“No, Sir,” I say, trying without success to wipe the grin off my face.
He draws back to look at me more squarely. “Move your arms and it’ll be the belt. Do you understand?”
His threat hits me square in the chest, squeezing the breath out of me. Fear of his punishment, or more accurately fear of disappointing him inspires me to be on my best behavior. I will try to stay put, but it won’t be easy. “Yes, Sir.”
Shifting, he lies on one side of me. Instead of taking his bite, he strokes my hair and cheek tenderly, looking into my eyes, setting a false calm I’m leery of. One quiet kiss on my lips, then another on my clenched jaw.
“Relax, kitten,” he whispers against my throat, lifting my chin for better access.
“I can’t,” I say. “Sir.”
“Yes, you can.” With his warm tongue pressed against my neck, he sinks his teeth in. Slowly.
My heart beats hard inside his bite, faster and faster, matching the rhythm of pulses through my core. A vision hits me of him slamming into me over and over while he breaks the flesh of my neck with his teeth. He sinks his teeth deeper, breathing moist, hot air onto my sensitized skin. I’m dying for relief, the pleasure of a violent orgasm mixed with the searing pain of his bite. I throw one leg around him and thrust my hips up, moaning as my clit collides with his hip.
Without thwarting his plan, he reaches down, removes my leg from his side, and pins it to the bed with his own. His strength and determination are hot as fuck. I squirm a little just to feel his power over me.
As he curls the tip of his tongue into the hollow of my throat, I consider grabbing him by his hair, flipping him on his back, and mounting him, watching him slip into a blissful daze as I have my way with him. I probably could if I move fast enough and catch him off guard.
How far will I get before he wraps his strong arms around me and pounds me into the mattress? How fucked will I be for presuming to take control? Will he punish me deliciously or savagely?
He clears his throat. “Am I boring you, pet?”
“A bit,” I say, goading him.
His raised eyebrow is the perfect response. I have his attention. He’s looking at me, waiting for me to explain myself…and beg his forgiveness. The ball is in my court.
“I’m anxious for more, Sir,” I say, lowering my chin and blinking up at him.
He glares at me for a moment, then snarls, “As am I, love. Patience.” He resumes kissing across my collarbone at an even slower pace. Because he loves to torture me. And because he’s punishing me for my misbehavior.
As he nears the peak of my breast, I’m antsy and can’t hold still. Daydreams aside, it’s coming. And it’s going to hurt. I writhe in anticipated discomfort.
“Don’t. Move.” His voice rumbles over and through me.
Heart pounding, I hold still and brace myself.
He nibbles and sucks his way toward my nipple. Then stopping, he grins at me, opens his mouth wide, and lets out a hot breath without touching me.
Fuck obedience. “Do it already!”
Smile gone, he raises his head. “Excuse me?”
Shit. His chide startles and excites me, shoots straight to my groin. He’s not going to let me get away with that. I’m glad. I need his sternness and direction. I need to feel contained by something stronger than myself, a safe place to lose control. I blink. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“You better be,” he says, and closes his teeth over my breast when I’m least prepared for it.
I yelp and shove him away, covering my aching nipple. With a swift twist, he flips me over, face down. My hair tents around my face, blocking my view. He pins my hands to my lower back and lies on me, flattening my palms to his stomach. He’s so deliciously warm. I need him closer still. I grasp at his shirt, managing only a pathetic pinch between two fingers.
He curls his hands under my shoulders. “Oh, Kitten,” he says. His breath falls hot on my ear. “All the rules you just broke…” He grinds his jean-clad hard-on against my bare ass.
I gargle some sort of grunt moan, six times wetter and twelve times more impatient for release. I offer a meager apology half muffled against the bedding. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Yes,” he says. “You will be.”
He pushes himself off of me and I cling to his shirt, catching it in my fist.
Smack! His palm cracks against my ass without warning.
“Ow!” I say. It’s more about the shock than the pain, but I roll onto my back to protect myself from further blows.
“Oh no you don’t.” He grabs both my ankles and flips me over. Securing one in each hand, he spreads my legs and holds me there face down. “Did I say you could roll over?”
A vivid image of his view of my spread legs and jiggling ass sends my heart racing and pussy pulsing. I pant against the comforter, “No, Sir.”
“Are you going to do as you’re told now or do I need to strap you the fuck down?” He punctuates his point with a jolt to each ankle. His roughness combined with his words tells me I’ve pushed him too far. I’m shaking with frustration and it hits me that I’ve lost control of myself. Dammit.
My face prickles with heat and I press it into the bedding to hide. I don’t know when to stop being a brat and to start obeying. I act out and end up pushing him too far. Too many offenses stack up against me and I’m crestfallen. “I’m ready to obey, Sir,” I say into the mattress.
He lets go of my ankles and in the brief silence that follows my pulse kicks into high gear and my eyes water.
Then from the depth of his broad chest, a deep, rumbling command, “Submit.”
A tingle slides down the back of my neck and I let out a whimper. This is the worst thing he could ask me to do in this moment of self-loathing and bruised pride. Not only is he asking me to get in a vulnerable position, but he’s asking me to do it on the raised bed. Facing away from him, exposing my ass for his eye-level inspection is the last thing I want to do right now.
Did I miss any spots shaving? Can he tell how bloated I am? Am I clean enough? Is it bright enough to see my–
“Did. I. Stutter? Submit.”
I moan and walk my knees closer to my shoulders, ass in the air, ear to the mattress. My skin tingles with the heat of my embarrassment.
Smack! “Proper response to a question?”
Shit. “Yes, Sir,” I cry. I expect another blow and wince.
“Good girl.” He strokes my ass and the backs of my thighs with a tender touch.
The heavy weight I had put on myself lifts a bit. It’s okay. If he were truly upset, he’d stop play. He wouldn’t react in anger. Hard rule.
The bed dips as he presses his knee into the mattress beside me and anchors my hip to his groin. Smack! “That was for your impatience earlier.” Smack! “And your attitude.” Smack! “For acting on your own will without waiting for instructions.” Smack! “For hesitating to obey my command.” Smack! “And for forgetting your manners.”
My ass and face are on fire. The faint sound of my own sniffling seeps into my awareness. He’s being extra hard on me, and I’m not handling it well. But I asked for this–his force and strength. And I’ve been extra bratty. So it’s only fair. I deserve this. Don’t dish it out if you can’t handle the consequences.
He rubs my sore ass, bringing feeling back into it. “Do you understand why you’ve displeased me?” he asks with a level voice.
The question shoots straight through my chest. ‘Displeased me.’ I do know. All too well. My answer comes as a croak. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” His praise is bittersweet and fires off another round of hot, prickling tears. I’ve soaked the bedding beneath my cheek, and I don’t want him to see it. I’m ashamed that I’m not stronger, that I’ve promised him a certain kind of play and am not delivering.
Leaving me in submit pose on the bed, he stands, letting his hand slide off the curve of my bottom as he goes. He shifts around the room for a moment and I’m rapt by the sounds, focusing on each to try to anticipate his next move.
The shuffling noises stop and I hold my breath.
“God, baby, you are so fucking hot.” He laughs, a deep, husky laugh that fills the room.
I’m stunned by it. Conflicted. Lost somewhere between my own angst and the joy he’s having over me. He likes me like this. He wants me like this. Not to humiliate me, although it does a good job of reminding me who is the submissive one here. He just fucking loves to look at me on display for him.
I should let that soak in and fill me up with hot, pulsing energy. But I’ve fallen too far and can’t quite pull myself back up.
There’s still time to recover though. My face is still hidden.
He steps up behind me and places both hands on my hips, squeezes hard and slides them up to the small of my waist. Reaching to massage my shoulders, his chest presses against my raised ass. I nuzzle back. He rewards me by running his fingers through my hair, something he knows I love. It’s so sweet. So gentle. I close my eyes and let myself relax in his grip as he plays with me.
He trails his heavy fingertips down my back, over the mound of my ass, and down the backs of my thighs.
“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fucking delicious.”
A few heavy breaths later and I manage, “Thank you, Sir.”
“Now,” he says, sliding one hand up the inside of my thigh. “Spread for inspection.”
All the tension returns to my muscles as I stiffen. My pride has been brutally bruised and now he wants me to spread. I can’t handle that. Not now. Not tonight. Why isn’t he reading me? Why isn’t he moving on to something less humiliating?
“Proper response to a command,” he barks. Smack!
I jump with a gasp. “I’m…s-sorry, Sir,” I stutter.
“I don’t believe you. If you were sorry-” smack! “you would have obeyed by now.”
The second smack does me in. My chest clenches tight around my lungs, forcing me on all fours for a breath of air.
“Excuse me?” he growls from behind me.
Shit. I fall into a sobbing heap as I whimper my safeword. “Red.”
[To be continued]
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I’m especially interested in how you feel about the direction of the story in this part.
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