My outburst earned me a look that I knew meant I would be punished later.
“You said you would do anything,” he reminded me. I nodded before he could finish his sentence. “So beg.”
I stared at him in wonder. “I?—”
“Did I give you permission to speak?”
“No, but how—” The look came back for an encore.
I was beginning to feel like I was back in grade school, so when I raised my bound hands as best I could and waited for him to call on me, I was already aware that I would pay the price.
He sighed in exasperation at my antics. “Yes?”
“May I speak, sir?” Sarcasm seeped off my tongue in pools, but the expression on his face was too priceless.
“You may,” he allowed.
“I have one question, but it’s a two-parter, so?—”
“Tara,” he warned.
I knew by his tone that I needed to keep my mouth shut. “Right, so the first question is more of a statement really. I thought I was begging already and?—”
“Tara,” he said again.
“I’m a little confused because you’re clearly hor?—”
Jason pulled the belt off my wrists and gagged me with it, mid-sentence. My complaints were muffled, and I waspissed.
“Over my lap. Now.” Jason didn’t wait for me to comply and he gladly took matters into his own hands.
Before I could attempt to say an audible statement along the lines of ‘Fuck off’, my ass was propped up on his knee.
His fingers stroked my clit, and I groaned. “You like that?” he taunted.
I said something along the lines of “You’re a fucking dick.”
“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “I can’t really hear you.”
The gag muffled my cries as he pumped a finger in and out of me. I moved my hips against his leg, and just as I was approaching my orgasm, he stopped.
He knew what he had done. It was the plan all along. “Still think you’re in control?”
I let out a muffled noise against the gag, my frustration and arousal tangling together until I could barely think straight.
Jason chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
My face burned, half from embarrassment, half from the realization that I wanted more.
I wanted him to keep pushing me.
I wanted to know how far I would go for him.
How far he would take me.
Jason leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re still fighting it,” he said, his fingers brushing the side of my thigh. “You can’t stand the fact that you actually enjoy being told what to do.”
I wanted to deny it. But then he slid his hands lower, gripping me like I belonged to him, and suddenly, denial wasn’t an option.
