“Where are you going?” he asked, his tone silky and smooth.
She mistook the silk for approval, missing the dangereous gleam that danced in his eyes.
“I’m done. I just can’t do this….” she sighed, cast a cautious glance from under dark eyelashes, looked away. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
Had she chosen to look up just then, she would have shivered. His look was fierce, the hunter locating his prey. He crossed to her, taking one slim wrist in his large hand. She let it lay there, quiescent, thinking he would apologize, perhaps, for the error. That was her one mistake, she thought later, or perhaps, deep down she had known. Known that nothing she could have done could have changed the outcome.
He leaned into her, taking her other wrist in his free hand. Swiftly, capitalizing on the moment she softened and leaned into Him, he pulled her wrists behind her, fastened them together before she knew what he intended.
Pushing her backwards towards the massive four-poster bed, he secured her wrists to the post behind her.
“what the fu…..” her words were quickly stifled as he gagged her. Next he tied a scarf around her head twice to blindfold her. She struggled and strained but could not break free.
He sat in the chair across the room, watching her. Admiring her heaving tits. The drab sweater she wore did nothing to enhance her overall look, but nothing could hide the magnificent bounty of her breasts. The flared skirt accented her gently rounded hips, and generous ass nicely. He liked a woman with curves. Not for him a model thin girl. He wanted a woman. This woman. He was pleased with her gumption. “Now it just wanted some….channeling,” he mused.
Eventually she stopped her useless struggles. She didn’t even know if he was still in the room. She moaned. The sound was soft, ineffective at expressing her emotions, which welled and threatened to overtake her. Panic rose up, making her struggle once more against the bonds which restrained her.
“Shhh….” he came to her, leaning hard against her, pushing her back against the bedpost.
“All you will do is hurt your wrists…the leather will not loosen and the latches are very secure.” She felt his hand in her hair, tried to toss him off of her.
“You’re a feisty one. If you think your attempts to dislodge me will lessen my wanting of you, you are well and truly wrong, little girl” he admonished gently. He had thought originally to be harsher with her, teach her of her place early. Remind her of the contract she had signed with his agency. There would be a time for that but for now, his prey needed soothing…and a lesson.
“in point of fact,” he continued in his best businessman’s voice, “your delightful tits are bouncing merrily against my chest. And I find it… ” he paused a moment, drawing it out….”quite charming. Titillating, perhaps” he said with a grin in his voice.
Charming? Titillating? The fucking rude sonofabitch. Who the fuck did he think…” Her thoughts were cut off as she heard a distinctive snipping, which began as she felt him move off of her. Then the snicking of …scissors. Cutting. She felt cool air brush across her belly, raising a welter of goosebumps. His fingers, when they reached the soft mounds of her breasts gently flicked across the generous mounds and continued cutting. With a final snick, the sweater was cut in two.
She protested through the cloth gag. Tossed her head. She felt his fingers against her cheeks. Saw him as he lifted the blindfold from her eyes. Her eyes blinked madly against the light in the room, tears rising. Her gaze met his, her wavering stare broke first as a tear slid from her, and slid slowly down her face.
She watched him lean into her, felt his hand fisting in the hair at the back of her head, not giving her an inch to move away. Watched as his tongue came out and gently lifted her tear away. She shuddered, and felt her traitorous pussy begin to leak.
Still holding her hair, he began kissing and nipping from her chin, ever so slowly down her throat. He paused a moment where the pulse beat madly, licking, then nipped at her collar-bone. A long low moan came from her gagged mouth, and he felt the vibration of it in her throat as his lips lingered there.
Slowly he continued down her torso, until his chin was cupped by the “V” of her bra. He pulled away then, flashed the scissors in front of her, then proceeded to snip away the front of her bra. He held her eyes hostage during the procedure, his eyes full of mystery and promise, hers full of a longing she had never known before.
Take me. Use me. Bend me. There in her deep green eyes, was the message he’d been wanting to see. No promises made on parchment, nor contractual bindings were what he needed. He needed only this look, one of utter need in her eyes. He peeled away the cups of her bra. Replaced them with his hands. Squeezed. Harder. Had he broken eye contact he would have seen her tits begin to pinken under his firm grasp. He felt her nipples rise into his palms, pressing impudently for his attention. Harder he squeezed her mounds, until her eyes slid shut and another, deeper, moan slid from beneath her gag.
Releasing her tits, he slapped first one, then the other. Her eyes flew open at the stinging blows. Another hard slap to each breast, flesh blooming into full rosy radiance, eyes half open and wincing. She did not pull away. Now she strained to get closer. Closer still. Her arms pulled out behind her as she leaned into his blows. He was watching, saw on her face that she was beginning to fly. His hand snaked up fast to grab her throat, push her back against the bedpost.
“NO! ” he barked at her. “There will be no cumming.” His hand stoppered her breath, until her head began to sag weakly. He released her throat, and removed her gag.
“Who owns you, slut?” he whispered into her ear.
Her voice was quiet. “you” came the response, a near-whisper.
His voice remained level as he asked again.
“you” Her response was louder this time.
“Who owns you, slut” he asked, a third time, his voice softer than a feather, his presence louder than a shout.
Her head rose. She flashed him a glance, eyes bright , and replied clearly
“You do, Master.”
That was a contract with terms they could both agree on.