I woke slowly, the air warm, soft sheets tangled around my thighs.
The blindfold was gone, but the room was dim — early morning sunlight just starting to filter through heavy curtains. My body ached in the best possible way: used, worshipped, claimed. The echoes of last night still clung to my skin — bruises, rope marks, a faint burn from where the crop had landed again and again.
He was gone.
But on the pillow beside me was a note.
“Rest. You’ll need your strength tonight. Wear nothing but the cuffs.”
My breath caught.
The cuffs — the black leather ones with the copper buckles — the ones we’d only talked about so far. They were for when things shifted. When we gave up the illusion of control completely. I’d always thought I would be the one restrained — the one bound, bent, taken.
But now, something felt… different.
All day I waited. Naked except for those cuffs, wrists and ankles. The anticipation built slowly, like pressure behind my ribs. Was I ready? Did I trust him that much?
Yes. God, yes.
When the door finally creaked open, I knelt, eyes lowered — like we’d agreed. And I felt him pause in the doorway.
“Good girl,” he said.
But his tone was different this time. Softer. Curious. Almost hesitant.
He walked in slow circles around me, fingers grazing my skin. Then he stopped behind me, leaned down close, and said:
“Tonight, I want you to show me what you want.”
My breath hitched. That wasn’t the script.
“You mean…”
“I want you to use me.”
The floor vanished beneath me for a moment. I turned my head, eyes wide. His mask was off.
It was the first time I’d seen his face during any of this. Sharp jaw. Stormy eyes. Lips that looked as dangerous as they felt. A man stripped of anonymity — handing me the power, just like that.
It was the greatest kink of all: vulnerability.
I stood slowly, testing the new balance between us. He stood still. Waiting. Breathless.
I reached for him.
This time it was my hand around his throat. My lips on his, biting. My fingernails dragging down his chest until he groaned — softly, involuntarily.
“Lie down.”
He did.
I straddled him, letting my slick heat rest just above his cock. His hips twitched, but he didn’t move. I pinned his wrists above his head, wrapped the leather cuffs from my ankles around his wrists instead, and fastened them to the headboard.
Now he was mine.
I teased him the way he had teased me — kissing down his body, licking, biting, edging him with my mouth until he begged.
“Oh, you like to beg?” I whispered, stroking the head of his cock slowly, letting it pulse against my palm. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“I want—” he started.
I silenced him with a kiss.
“You want what I give you,” I whispered.
Then I slid down onto him — slow, so slow — until he was buried deep inside me and I could feel his restraint crackling like electricity beneath my skin. I rode him until he was writhing, muscles taut, eyes blown wide with pleasure he couldn’t control.
And when I came, it was with power in every inch of me. Controlled. Intentional. Dominant.
Afterwards, I curled up beside him and undid the cuffs. He didn’t move. He just held me.
“I didn’t know I needed that,” he murmured into my hair.
“I did,” I said softly. “And now you do too.”
The balance between us had shifted. No longer captor and captive. Not quite dom and sub.
Something else entirely.
Equal. Twisted. Beautiful.
And it was only just beginning. |
