“Do you know what happens to those who defy me, Lea?”
Her voice emerges steady but laced with a thread of breathlessness. “You break their fingers. Or carve off pieces of their ears. I’ve witnessed your... efficiency.”
“Those are for business vermin,” I correct, my tone darkening as I finally grasp the zipper. I drag it down with agonizing slowness,the teeth parting inch by torturous inch, revealing the smooth, golden expanse of her back. No bra strap interrupts the view—she’s bare beneath, the dress’s built-in support giving way. “This is personal. And for personal betrayal, the response must be... intimate. Invasive. Unforgettable.”
The zipper hits bottom, and the dress sags, held precariously by the last thin strap on her shoulders. I step back, leaving her exposed to the cool air.
“Take it off.”
Her hesitation stretches longer this time, her shoulders rising and falling with deeper breaths. I can practically hear her mind whirring—how far to push this charade? What’s the price of folding versus fighting?
Finally, she reaches up, slipping the last strap free. The silk cascades down her body in a sensual hush, puddling at her feet like a surrendered flag. She steps out, still facing away, clad now in nothing but a scrap of black lace thong that barely covers her, and those killer stilettos that make her legs look endless.
“The rest,” I say, my voice roughening despite myself, heat surging through my veins at the sight of her near-naked form. “Everything. Bare yourself completely.”
The pause drags, electric. Then, with deliberate, teasing slowness, she hooks her thumbs into the lace, bending slightly as she slides it down her thighs, over her calves, stepping free. The heels follow, kicked aside with a soft clatter. She’s naked now, her arms instinctively crossing over her full breasts, shielding herself.
“Arms at your sides,” I order, my cock hardening at the vulnerability she tries to hide.
She complies, hands dropping, though a faint shiver runs through her fingers. Her body is a masterpiece—curves that beg to be claimed, skin glowing under the low light.
“Now turn around.”
This is it. The pivot. Will she shatter the illusion, or cling to her role?
She turns slowly, chin lifted in defiance, eyes meeting mine with a blaze that screams challenge despite her nudity. A rosy flush stains her chest, climbing her neck to her cheeks. Her nipples pebble in the air, tight and begging. Her breath comes quicker, shallow. But her gaze? Sharp, unyielding. The game endures.
I stride to my dresser, triggering the hidden panel with a press. The drawer glides open, revealing my arsenal. I select the black silk restraints—soft but unbreakable—and the riding crop, its leather tip promising exquisite sting. For good measure, I grab a velvet blindfold, the kind that plunges everything into darkness, heightens every other sense.
When I turn, her eyes widen at the items, a genuine flicker of apprehension flashing before she schools it. Her thighs press together subtly, a tell of arousal mingling with fear.
“Today,” I say, closing the distance with predatory grace, “you learn the price of crossing me. These?” I dangle the restraints. “They’ll keep you safe—from yourself, from fighting what you need.” I bind her wrists in front, the silk whispering as I cinch it tight, leaving her hands prayer-like but immobilized. Her breath quickens, chest heaving.
I lift the blindfold next. “And this... to strip away your illusions.” I tie it over her eyes, plunging her into blackness. She gasps softly, head tilting as she adjusts to the void.
“On the bed. Face down. Ass up.”
Blinded, she moves tentatively, crawling onto the mattress, positioning herself on her elbows and knees, her bound hands beneath her. The sight is intoxicating—her back arched, pussy exposed and already glistening, the pale globes of her ass presented like an offering.
I trail the crop’s tip down her spine, watching gooseflesh erupt. “This isn’t mere punishment, Lea,” I murmur, voice laced with dark promise. “It’s reclamation. A lesson in who owns you.”
The first strike lands across her right cheek, a sharp crack that paints a pink stripe. She jolts, a gasp tearing from her lips, body tensing like a bowstring.
The second mirrors it on the left, harder, the sting blooming red. She whimpers, hips twitching involuntarily.
“Every defiance,” I growl, landing a third on the sensitive underside, “earns this.” Fourth and fifth in rapid fire, her skin flushing crimson, her cries evolving from pain to something throaty, needy.
I pause, tracing the welts with my fingers, feeling the heat rise. She’s dripping now, arousal slicking her inner thighs. “Tell me why you’re in my bed, Lea,” I demand, teasing the crop between her legs, brushing her swollen clit.
“Because... you brought me,” she pants, voice strained, blindfold hiding her eyes but not her desperation.
Wrong. The crop snaps against her pussy, light but shocking, making her yelp and buck. “Try again.”
“Because I begged you to,” she admits, grinding back despite herself.
“Why?” I press the leather tip to her entrance, circling.
“I... wanted you,” she moans, the words fracturing.
