He shrugs, eyes still focused on the computer screen. If I want to get laid, I’m going to have to work for it.
I leave Will gazing at his laptop and head for the bedroom. Opening the dresser, I dig out a pair of black fishnets. I pull them on, ripping the crotch wide open. I rifle through the closet, looking for the tiny black skirt I know he likes.
“Are you looking for something sexy to put on?” he calls out hopefully from the next room.
“Maybe,” I answer.
I search the closet for the black skirt another moment, then give up. Instead I find a silky black slip from the dresser that I’d forgotten about. I squeeze into a black lace bra that threatens to heave my tits overboard. My hair, released from its bun, falls in soft black waves against my shoulders. I feel like a pin-up model, maybe one of the Vargas girls. This will certainly do. Continue reading
“Behave,” he says. “You’re really being a fucking brat.”
Tonight we aren’t playing. I’m really resisting him, but I don’t know why. I’m spoiling for a fight and I want to push back. Something deep in me feels poisoned, twisted. Storm clouds are brewing and I don’t want to stop it.
“What’s your safeword? Do you remember it?” Mister asks. He’s not sure what’s going on with me, this is his way of checking in.
“Yes,” I hiss.
“Well, what is it?” he squeezes my face, hard. I can already picture the bruises forming under his fingertips.
“Orange. Fucking. Crush.” I spit every word out as if I’m offended. I am. I know what I want.
“Do you want to use it now?” he tries to ask me as evenly as possible. A hair’s edge of tension creeps in around the edges.
“No.” I turn away from him.
“Knees, now,” he orders.
I take my time. Exasperated, he wrenches my arms behind my back, binds my hands, then shoves his entire cock in my mouth. I bite down against his flesh. Not hard, but with enough pressure to make him flinch. I wince as he firmly smacks my face. Stars bloom before my eyes, my ears ring. Continue reading