Page 66 of Dean's Delinquent
A paragon.
Smack.
Mine.
As loath as I am to have Doctor Andrew touch her in any way, I pull away from her, allowing the cool air to eddy in between our bodies. Soft distressed wails meet my ears, but this has to be done. If I were just as skilled with rope, I’d do this myself. But I’m not.
I know my limitations. I’m more than willing to put my ego aside so she can learn her lesson in a way that should leave her physically unscathed. For now, at least.
“Do your worst.”
Her eyes widen as her nostrils flare. Just like a startled animal. Feral, wild, untamed.
Mine.
The instant I give him room, Doctor Andrew rushes in and begins his masterpiece. As much as I wish I could be the one teaching Ashleigh this lesson, I have to admit he’s a sight to behold. There’s no hesitation in his hands as he winds the rope around her limbs.
A knot here, a tug there. Each coil that tightens around her delicate skin draws an anguished cry from her lips. Somewhere underneath, however, is a tendril of a moan. It’s a light sound, so soft you could miss it if you weren’t listening for it.
But I am. I will always crave that sound as it pulls from her body in such an unwilling manner. Precum pearls at my tip as I stroke myself to the sight of her dripping from both her pussy and her eyes.
Tears glisten on her cheeks, shining like precious diamonds as she keeps her gaze locked onto me. No matter what Doctor Andrew does, no matter how hard he pulls or where he slides the rough rope, she never looks away.
Neither does she look repentant. Minx. This is supposed to teach her a lesson. Yet, as my gaze dips down to where her thighs lay spread open, her pussy bisected by the rope, the normal tan of the jute turns a dark brown as her arousal coats it.
“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this,” I murmur. “Perhaps Doctor Andrew isn’t making it tight enough?”
“No,” she wails as he tugs on the bit between her legs, forcing it to abrade her delicate flesh. “It- it’s tight enough.”
Easing between them, I rub the rope, making the cute little knot dig into her clit. The strangled cry goes straight to my balls, drawing them up to the point where stars dance before my eyes and my cock jerks at the lovely sound.
“I don’t know. Your body is dripping all over his ropes. Naughty, naughty girl.”
“It’s not my fault,” she screams out, her body bowing against the restraints. “I’m not trying to get turned on by this. I’m- there’s something broken with me.”
“You listen to me, Ashleigh. Nothing is broken with you. Nothing is wrong with you,” I cajole, as I temper my touch against her poor, swollen, abused flesh. “You’re more than allowed to crave a bite of pain with your pleasure. Many of the submissives here do. We give them a place, a refuge to live out their fantasies. You can be here with me in this way. We can explore these masochistic needs of yours together. But hear me now, Ashleigh. I can only do that if you can truly understand how fucking dangerous your actions were tonight.”
Her eyes gaze at me, unfocused. It was stupid of me to try to have a conversation with her like this. But then, until tonight, I didn’t know just how easy it would be for her to slip into subspace. A blessing and a curse, I suppose.
Pulling back, I cross my arms and watch as Doctor Andrew finishes. Pale tan rope crosses over her skin, leaving red indentions in their wake. Ashleigh’s expression reflects both misery and pleasure in equal measure. No sense in delaying the inevitable.
She’s not enough in her right mind to understand anything but the need coursing through her veins. It’s the same as what flows through my own.
Shaking my head, I reach down and stroke myself as I study my perfect little doll. She’s my muse, my inspiration, the piece I never knew was missing. Hopefully, this wild streak of hers is just uncurbed youth, something that will fade in time and training.
“Look at me, Ashleigh.” The desperation shines through her beautiful eyes, cutting me to the core. “Get off the cross and come here.”
For a moment, her brows furrow as she tries to puzzle through my demand. It’s so simple, however. It’s something that cannot be done. It’s comical, actually, to watch the wheels turn in her head, to see the twitch and strain in her muscles as she does her best to accommodate my demand.
“I- I can’t,” she eventually wheezes as exhaustion lines her features.
“And that, my dear, is exactly the lesson I need you to learn and understand. Next time, it might not be me. It might not be Doctor Andrew who wants nothing to do with your body. The men and women who play here play for keeps. Next time, you might not make it out unscathed.”
For a moment, her gaze clears, as if she understands the importance of what I’m trying to drive home to her. Relief washes over me for more reasons than one. Mostly, it means we can now begin the process in which I claim her perfect little pussy as my own.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Ashleigh
