He had knelt her on the cold marble floor and tied her against the wall, arms stretched overhead, knees and ankles bound, all done with silk rope and reinforced with chains.
Cami closed her eyes. With no blindfold, she could only rely on a slight turn of her head, but her peripheral vision merely caught a glimpse of the man’s tan skin and dark hair before she grew dizzy.
They didn’t know one another. That was the point. That’s why she’d searched for this underground bondage parlor for months. No one else could know about her appetites.
The leather dollop dipped below her cheeks, tapping at the apex of her thighs and making her back arch as much as she could manage. Her breasts scraped against the chilled glass at her front—the one hidden with a curtain that at any moment could open to reveal her. Air sucked deeply into her lungs as the soft leather bit into her inner thighs, her ass cheeks, against the sealed folds of her sex. A small yip reverberated against her teeth as another whipping broke her open.
Her knees burnt as she shifted, wishing for more contact, for his heat to slide against her and contrast the burning cold.
His voice was the next best thing—strong, vibrant, and with a bit of a South American lisp. “Be careful what you present me with, slave. You are not familiar with what your gestures mean.
Suddenly, his breath draped itself over her neck and shoulders, bringing his musky yet tropical scent to her pallet. “So, you had better learn to ask.”
“Touch me, please.” His hovering body cocooned her in a rivaling swirl of temperatures that swarmed across her flesh in search of balance.
The leather dollop tapped its way up her belly, and she dared a glimpse of him. His dark hair shielded his caramel eyes and swooped along the bridge of his nose. But she barely captured that image before the leather pinched between her right nipple at that glass, rolling it and scraping it against the glass. Her entire body arched at the pain of it, and wetness inside of her seeped and rolled down her thighs.
“Have you earned that privilege? You have not once come for me.”
Leather rolled down her body, zig-zagging against her ribs and the concave of her stomach, before invading her thighs and lips. Coarse pleasure jolted her, but still she felt no other flesh against hers.
She looked down her body, through the small gap her breasts presented her with, to watch the man’s hand thrust a riding crop between her legs, digging into the pearl of her clit, and demanding she leap toward her first orgasm. The pleasure crested as she watched, like she was being pulled through boiling water just fast enough to not get burned.
Cami wanted the burn. She wanted the orgasm forced from her. She wanted to hand over that control. And she had no choice once her core exploded, spasming, jerking her body against the restraints and against the glass.
And his touch didn’t relent. In fact, his thick fingers found the small slice of her lips and shoved past any last guard she had, invading her pleasure.
Her master had given her exactly what she’d asked for, on his own terms.