😈 This is just the start 😈

January 19

I can still smell her on my fingers.

She’s lying back on the bed right now, legs spread just enough that I can see the slow, glossy trail of us leaking out of her—my cum mixed with hers, thick and obscene, pooling beneath her ass and soaking into the dark sheets. Her wrists are flushed red from the silk I used; I tied those knots tighter than usual tonight because I knew she’d pull against them. She always does, just enough to make the rope bite and leave proof she was mine for those long minutes. The black silk is still looped loosely around her wrists now, trailing off the edge of the mattress like forgotten restraints. I didn’t untie her completely. I wanted her to feel them there while she catches her breath.

I hadn’t planned to draw it out quite this long. But the second I had her on her back, wrists stretched above her head and lashed to the heavy iron headboard, something shifted. She looked too fucking perfect like that—back arched off the mattress, breasts lifted, nipples already tight little peaks begging for my mouth. Those strappy black heels I made her keep on were digging into the sheets, ankles flexed, calves tensed. Every shallow breath made her thighs tremble and her pussy glisten even more. She was already dripping before I even touched her—a thin, steady thread of her arousal sliding down toward the crease of her ass, darkening the fabric beneath her.

I knelt between her spread legs and just watched for a minute. Let her feel my eyes on her. Let her hear my slow, deliberate breathing. She whimpered every time I shifted closer, hips lifting tiny fractions like she was trying to offer herself higher without breaking position. She failed beautifully.

“You’re making a mess on the bed, baby girl.”

I said it low, right against the shell of her ear. Her whole body jerked like I’d shocked her. Cheeks went scarlet. But her hips tilted up—small, needy—like she was proud of how wrecked she already was for me.

I slid two fingers through her folds. Didn’t push inside. Just gathered the slick that had pooled at her entrance and ***ted it across her bottom lip until it shone like gloss. “Open.” She did—mouth soft and eager, tongue already curling before I even got there. I fed her my fingers deep, let her taste how desperate she’d made herself. She sucked like it was me, cheeks hollowing, little greedy noises leaking around my knuckles. My cock throbbed so hard it hurt.

“Good girl,” I told her. First praise I’d given her all night.

Her back bowed off the mattress. The silk sang as her wrists twisted uselessly against the headboard. I almost came right then from how fucking obedient she looked—blindfolded, stretched, drooling around my fingers, pussy dripping onto the sheets I’d have to change later.

I took my time after that. Belt. Zipper. I let her hear every tooth separate. Pressed my cock against the soft crease where her thigh met her ass and slid—slow, deliberate—so she could feel every thick inch she wasn’t allowed yet. One hand wrapped her throat, just enough pressure to remind her who owned the air she was breathing. The other found her clit and gave it one lazy circle.

She cried out—small, broken, beautiful. Body jerked so hard the headboard rattled.

I told her she didn’t get to come until I’d filled her twice.

Then I pushed in.

One long, slow thrust. No mercy. I felt her stretch around me, walls fluttering, trying to take more even as she whimpered from how full she already was. I bottomed out and stayed—deep, throbbing, letting her feel me pulse against her cervix. She was shaking. Sobbing my name without realizing it. Thanking me already.

I fucked her like I owned her—because I do.

Long, punishing strokes that dragged over that spot inside her until her heels dug into the mattress and her cries turned raw. I pinched her nipple hard enough to make her arch. Whispered against her ear that this was what good girls got—tied to the bed, blind, dripping, used exactly how they’re meant to be used. That she was my perfect little mess.

She came like she was dying for it.

Whole body locked around my cock, pulsing, milking, trying to drag me deeper even though there was nowhere left. I felt her shatter—heard it in the way her sob cracked—and then I let go. Spilled inside her in hot, thick pulses. Kept thrusting through it until it overflowed, running down between her cheeks, soaking the sheets beneath her in a dark, spreading stain. I stayed buried while she fluttered around me, aftershocks pulling soft whimpers out of her throat.

I kissed her neck—soft, reverent—while I was still inside her. Told her she was my good girl. My perfect fucking mess.

Then I started loosening the silk around her wrists. Slow. Careful. Rubbed the red marks with my thumbs until the sting eased. Left the blindfold on a little longer because I liked the way she looked with it—***, still floating.

She’s still trembling. Still leaking me. Still looking toward the sound of my voice like I hung the goddamn moon, even though she can’t see me yet.

I’m getting water. Giving her a minute to breathe.

But when I come back?

We’re not done.

She begged for twice.

I always keep my promises.