Anything He wants

The fire crackled behind him and a bead of sweat trailed down under his finely tailored shirt. “Good girl,” he rewarded his pet, but his voice was tight. Constricted. He cleared his throat, trying to get back his sense of command and dominance.

“I want you to lay back, and spread your arms to either side of the bed.”

Her legs were pressed so tightly together that as she lay down flat, he never got another glimpse of her slit, nor the little tuft of wispy blonde hairs above it. She obeyed, though, splaying her arms out to the side, leaving her panties discarded on the edge of the bed, twisted and pretty as she did as he told.

He swallowed and took another picture, leaving the camera as he walked to her left side. He kneeled at the bed, his fingers trailing over her bare arm. The underside of it was so fair, with blue veins just barely visible beneath the surface. He traced them, feeling the soft pulse quicken at his touch.

Licking his lips, he turned her arm over, his gaze following the light hairs along her forearm. They glistened from the orange light of the candles and fire, the downy hair so soft. He reached beneath the bed and with a soft clatter, removed the heavy chain and soft leather from beneath the bed skirt. He caressed her arm once more before he spoke. “Do you trust me?”

Her spindly limbs tensed at the sound of those chains, and she lifted her head off the bed just a fraction of an inch, still so blind to the world around her. Her lips parted and she looked as if about to ask him what the noise was, but instead she licked her pink lips and nodded to him so very briefly, and he had a tantalizing suspicion that she knew.

“Yes sir,” she said meekly, just a wisp of her usual soft voice available.

He caressed her again, bringing his mouth to her wrist and pressing it there for a long moment, tasting her skin. He nuzzled her flesh before pulling away, bringing the soft leather to her hand. He held her fingers in his, guiding them along the dark leather, feeling out the rich texture of the material.

“This won’t hurt, sweetheart,” he said softly, taking her dainty wrist and wrapping the binding tightly around it. He secured it in place and kissed each of her fingers in turn.

Her soft little breaths caught a few times as he kissed upon her delicate skin, her slender fingers twitching as he treated her with such care. She seemed to expect more, some hurt, some pain, but instead he merely wrapped those bindings about her and gave her such tender affections.

It made her shiver and fidget just a bit, rubbing her thighs together as she waited restlessly for the hitch. The catch to all this. She was feeling the same buildup he had clung to for all this time.

He walked to the other side of the bed, repeating the same motions with such tender affection, teasing her skin with gentle caresses. When that one, too, was secured, he moved to her foot. He didn’t ask, this time. Instead, he reached across the bed and caressed over the top of her foot, down over her instep, tickling the arch through her stocking.

Each motion was so slow, so sensual, and when he got to her ankle and began coaxing her legs open, her foot towards him, it all seemed and felt so natural.

Though he hadn’t asked, she never resisted. Her legs parting as he pulled them gently to the side to tie them down, her shaking seeming to still while he strapped her limbs to the bed. Perhaps the lack of control brought her comfort, or perhaps she simply had less room to quiver as she was tied down.

Either way, her beautiful, pale form looked at ease as he ensnared her, trapping her to the bed, her white blouse betraying the outlines of her perky little teats, aroused and stiffened through the nearly see-through fabric.

As he finished with the last foot, he stood back to admire his work. To admire her.

Never had he seen someone so beautiful, who had been so worth waiting for. Holding out for. He knew how lucky he was for her to be so perfectly crafted for him, so much so that it made him wonder if there truly was a greater power looking out for him.

For both of them.

He knew that she needed this, needed him, just as badly, and as he watched her body still and calm, he knew that they’d both feel whole after this evening.

He crawled onto the bed, careful not to hurt her slender legs as he moved between them. He knelt over her, his body weight shifting the mattress a bit as he hovered, staring down at her face. His gaze caressed her nose, her mouth, over her throat and down over the buttons of her blouse.

His fingers crept over her thighs, never disturbing the skirt, but instead going towards the first button on her blouse and pushing it through the sewn hole.

She’d remained so calm and quiet through it all, but as he popped that first button she gasped, softly and quietly. Her shoulders shrank inwards and she seemed to want to retreat within herself, but instead she stilled, calmed herself, her breathing having grown as he lowered her top, to show her milky white skin down to the pale white peaks of her breasts, cupped so tightly by her thin, fabric bra.

It was torture for him. He wanted to tear the shirt off, to ravish her, but even now, when he’d come so far, he refused himself that pleasure. No, he didn’t want her for the moment.

He needed to possess her, always. And he wouldn’t get there by pushing her to the limit.

Instead, he brought his mouth to her collarbone, letting his lips trace over the delicate skin, his bristly stubble contrasting to the softness of his kisses.

And against her smooth, blemishless skin, his coarse jawline was like a scrub brush. It made her gasp and squirm a little, shifting away from him, but unable to move more than mere centimeters away from his hungry mouth.

A soft little whimper escaped her lips and she faced away from him, in the process leaving her slender stalk of a neck and shoulder vulnerable to his devouring mouth.

He moved up to the newly offered flesh, his nose teasing and soft as he trailed it up towards her ear. He breathed against her, letting out a soft moan that he’d so long held back as his hand went to caress her face. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured before kissing her neck flushly, his tongue flicking against the pale skin.

His words and the feel of him each made her gasp and quiver, her body unable to move, but she seemed content to sink into the bed and let him press against her. She bit down upon her lower lip to stifle her soft little moan as he kissed at her pale neck, enjoying the warm affection even as she was powerless to do anything else. Never did her plush lips threaten to spill out that one word in her arsenal.

The only one that could put an end to all of this and make their world come crashing down.

He teased her skin, exciting it with his tongue and his soft little gusts of breath as he kissed lower. His thumb went towards her mouth, coaxing her lower lip from between her teeth. “Let it out, Princess,” he huffed as he kissed the valley between her nubile breasts.

Instead of calling for him to stop with that safe word, she arched her spine, pushing her tiny chest up towards him as she gave a shuddering moan and capped it off with a whimper. Her little body shivering as if cold. Though as his lips grazed her supple breast flesh she murmured, “No. Stop. It’s not right.”

“It is,” he whispered back, his hand trailing down her body, along her ribcage, peeling back the blouse a bit more. He was so mind-numbingly hard, and his fingertips brushed the edge of her perky breasts. “And you don’t have a say. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

Her teeth sank back into her worrying lower lip again, the poor girl unable to keep herself from gnawing at that poor abused morsel of flesh. “It’s wrong,” she protested softly, her meek little voice so weak. “You said you’d take care of me,” she whimpered, her chest heaving a little quicker. “This isn’t taking care of me.” Her voice grew strained, vanishing into nothingness though her breathing only grew heavier.

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathed out over her chest, looking up at her worried face. “I will. I just didn’t realize how impatient you were.” His voice was nearly a growl as he kissed lower, along her taut tummy, his fingers playing along her smooth, bare thighs as he hitched the skirt up, unveiling that sweet prize.

She could do nothing to hide her sex from him, the delicate, roused flower parted as her legs were pulled to the side of the king-sized bed.

Though being unable to resist didn’t stop her from trying, and she did her best to clench her thighs inwards, to hide the glistening, needy little slit before his view. But she couldn’t do it, not with her legs tied so taut. He had her under his control and she whimpered at her powerlessness.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

“No!” she protested weakly. “Not that! Please no!” she offered up, squirming so feebly beneath him, only making her ripe young body to shimmy and shake deliciously before his gaze.

But he reminded himself that every time she said no, she wanted it. She had the right word that could make him stop, but her refusal to use it betrayed the true depth of her desire, and he gripped both her thighs in his powerful hands.

He squeezed the tender flesh between his fingers and he groaned loudly, almost growling with lust. “But princess, you smell so sweet.”

His rough grab, his lewd words, it made her squeal and dig the back of her head into the bed. Though no physical action she took could tear him away from her, could rob him of the arousing aroma of her cunt. How deliciously ripe and ready it smelled. The sweet scent of her nubile body so strong off her slick little slit.

She tugged her legs at those shackles that bound her, “Get off! Get away from me!” her voice getting so girlishly shrill at the end.

“No, sweetheart. I can’t do that.” His dick throbbed so hard as he brought his nose to the soft little bit of fur that topped her mound, inhaling her scent so fully. It made him almost dizzy with arousal, but as his tongue flicked out of his lips and touched that warm, forbidden fruit, he nearly came.

Before she could even protest, his tongue ventured out again, his fingertips working in closer as he coaxed her clit from its hiding spot.

She very nearly jumped out of the bed, and would’ve if not for the bindings, he swore. That tiny little bud was so sensitive she reacted almost violently at his touch, but by the time he stroked her again she gave a moan instead of a squeal.

Already his little pet was learning so fast.

“No!” she panted out, her slick honey upon his tongue. “No that’s too sensitive! Not there!” she protested.

But he didn’t speak, didn’t reassure her or try to warm her up to the sensations. Instead he toyed with her, running his tongue over that tiny bud, down her length just to get a taste of her. He kissed her, more frantically, hungrily, his fingers prying apart her slickened labia and devouring her with such need.

He was losing control over himself, and he damn well knew it. But there was no more holding back, not when he was finally tasting her juices, feeling her body respond to him with such repressed need. Her desperate little ‘no’s, repeated over and over just thrilled him more, and he sucked her little clit so needily.

She was like a puppet to him, every little lash of his tongue able to make her jump and flail and struggle at her bonds in futility. He played her like that, more of her slick honey coating his tongue and lips as he lashed at her feminine gash.