by Cynthia Dane
“You’ll be back soon, right?”
“I will be back. Before you’re missed by the rest of the household.” Before Monica could express her relief, he continued, “And sometime later we’ll talk about why you’re so nervous right now.”
“I’m not nervous.”
Pleasure suddenly jolted through her as he lowered one side of her negligee and squeezed her bare breast. “You shouldn’t be. Once I think you’re sufficiently ready… I’ll give you exactly what you want.”
He kissed her once more before sitting up, his hand wrapping around her thigh and prying her legs apart. “I won’t tell you when I’ll be back. In truth, I don’t know how long this next meeting will take anyway. When I do come back, you better be ready for me. I expect my girl to always be ready for me.”
Monica blinked away the dust from her eyes. “Yes, sir.” She had a free hand. She knew what to do. All I care about is that he won’t do what Jackson did.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking about right now.” Henry rubbed her bent knee before stepping toward the end of the bed. “But you don’t have anything to fear from me. I care about your pleasure. I also care about your discipline. You understand that you have to be disciplined?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. When I get back, I want to see you ready to be disciplined.”
He left, the door latching behind him once again. Monica exhaled a heavy breath and looked at the ceiling, her arm still tied behind her head and her mind full of conflicting thoughts.
Did she really trust Henry? In truth, she barely knew the man. They met a handful of times, had sex once, not counting the head the day before, and now were testing boundaries like they had been together for months. How stupid I am. Monica was too easy to trust. Too easy to get into relationships. What happened the last time she hopped into a relationship? I got caught up in Jackson’s world for almost ten years. A naïve college graduate who wanted to explore the world of BDSM more. I liked the taste I got with my first boyfriend. When Jackson offered her more? On a scale she could have never imagined? Riches beyond human comprehension? Every trick in the book? How could Monica say no back then?
So why wasn’t she saying no right now?
She lay there, for a few minutes, for a half hour, thinking about her lot in this relationship. This was what she thought she wanted. To serve. To submit. To be used once in a while. The idea of a man controlling half her life, taking charge and taking care of her, was all she cared about at the end of the day. She wanted him – whoever him was – to coddle her, to make love to her, to make her feel like the most wanted woman in the world. In return? I’ll make him feel like a king. There were many simple pleasures in life. There were also many extravagant pleasures. Monica wanted a healthy dose of both, and making a well-to-do man feel like that was a good representation. Just get through today.
Sexual pleasure. Flashbacks. Monica shouldn’t push her own boundaries and conflate the two, but here she was, tied up in Henry Warren’s bed waiting for him to do God knew what.
Monica imagined him pushing her down again, using her body for his own whims, and whispering into her ear what a filthy woman she was. Even without him touching her, Monica’s skin tingled at the thought of him spanking her, fingering her, and bringing her down onto his cock with promised relief. Sometimes she imagined him wearing that suit, his buttons undone but that material hugging his form with a hint of the forbidden fruit he carried for a sub like her. “Behave, and I’ll reward you.” Other times he was naked, his strong body steady as he pulled apart her legs and drove his cock into her. “My princess.”
She certainly felt like one. A princess locked away in a king’s tower, ready to be claimed by him. There was no queen in the castle yet, but if Monica pleased His Majesty, she may see a change in her fate yet.
Her hand hovered around her thigh. Without any idea of when Henry would return, Monica pressed her fingers against her slit and moaned into the pillow.
“What a beautiful sight for these sore eyes.” Henry’s voice wafted into Monica’s ear ten minutes later. “Not every man gets to come into his bedroom and see a lovely woman touch herself in anticipation of him.”
Monica said nothing, but she opened her eyes, gazing into Henry’s as he stood above her.
“You look… quite ready.” Henry’s hand hooked beneath her knee and lifted her leg into the air. Monica gasped, her slit open and bare to the cool bedroom air. I think I might be a bit wet. And now with Henry touching her again? His pants straining against a slight bulge between his legs and mere inches away from Monica’s face? It’s getting worse. A shudder ripped through her as Henry tapped his fingers against her thigh. Her arousal burst from her, caressing her skin and dipping into her most forbidden regions. “Yet what are you ready for?”
Monica bit her lip. “For you, Mr. Warren.”
She didn’t ask for much. Just for him to climb onto the bed, unzip his pants, and give it to her. Was that too much? This long game was killing her. “You think you’re ready, but have you thought about what a temptress you are? I think you’re doing all of this to keep me from going to my final meeting today.”
How many meetings did this man have? Too many! But he proved that he would come back. Keep coming back, again and again, if only to taunt her. “I’m sorry for tempting you, sir. I can’t control it.”
A blissful shot of pain shot through her body as he smacked the side of her ass. “Find a way to control it. I forbid you from coming until I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you come before me today, I won’t forgive it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Close your eyes. I have a present for you for being so patient.”
The world went dark as Monica did as told. Henry rolled her hips over and gave her ass another light smack. She hissed, a tiny whimper escaping her lips. Henry must not have heard it, for he did not chastise her.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
Something warm dripped onto her rear.
It took her a bit to recognize what it was. Wet, slick, and heading right for where she puckered most. Is he…? Monica wanted to open her eyes but did not dare. Not even when Henry opened and closed a drawer next to her head and pressed something hard against her ass.
“You know what this is?”
Before she could say anything, her body released more of her arousal, drenching the plug.
“Of course you do. It’s a small one, don’t worry. I haven’t assumed anything.” The tip of the plug pushed slowly into her, stretching her tender muscles and making her groan in both discomfort and ease. “You have such a lovely ass, Monica.” His other hand rubbed it, those strokes opening her up a little wider as the plug slipped into her body. I haven’t done this in so long. Her body almost resisted it. Yet between the lube and her own wetness, Monica would lose that battle if she chose to fight it. “One of these days I’ll have to take it for myself. Not today. This is fine for now, right?”
A sigh escaped her. The free hand she was allowed rested on her stomach, her hips wiggling beneath Henry’s touch. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad. Now, I have a very important job for you, Monica.” Henry stood and opened another drawer. Within moments he had another silk tie wrapping around her eyes to blindfold her, and yet another bind bringing her free wrist up to her confined one. If that wasn’t maddening enough, Henry then pulled apart her legs, lingerie bunched around her waist, and hogtied her calves to her thighs at a stark angle.
Monica felt like she was ready to be served to her king.
“Your job is to lie like this for a bit longer. From now on you’re not just my princess, but my doll. When I’m down there talking to someone, I’ll be thinking of you up here, tied up like this and waiting for me to come take care of you. The best part will be knowing I can do whatever I want to you, because you’ll be begging for me to put an end to your carnal misery.”
She was already there. “Yes, sir.” Monica contracted around the plug, and it sent a wave of undeniable desire through her, striking her right in the loins before shooting to her breasts and throat. An inaudible gasp wracked her.
“What if I told you that you’re not to come once while I’m gone? I’ll know if you do. And if you do, I won’t give you anything at all. You have to earn your reward. Now, I will ask you if you understand, and after that, you’re not to say another word until I give you permission later. Do you understand all of this?”
“Yes, Mr. Warren.”
That was it. The last thing she was allowed to say.
Monica took that seriously. Even after he left, she didn’t say a word as she lay in Henry’s bed, tied to herself and his furniture. It was uncomfortable, but only physically. She could think past the cramped muscles and the strained limits. After all, Henry was testing her as much as she was testing him. He wanted to know how far he could push her… and Monica wanted to know how he would react when she decided she had been pushed too far.
Not that she was anywhere near that. All she could think about was how much she couldn’t wait for this to end – in the best ways.
There was one problem. No matter how disciplined Monica was, there were a few things she had no control over. Like how the plug inside her was pushed farther in thanks to the weight of her body on top of the bed. Every time she slightly moved to relieve pressure in her legs, other parts of her moved, and suddenly she was taking deep, steady breaths in an effort to contain an orgasm. Because one was threatening to claim her now.
Don’t do it… don’t do it… Henry had warned her that an orgasm would prevent her from getting what she wanted. And while she definitely wanted some punishment, she didn’t want to be denied his intimate touch and the chance to share something so wonderful together. If he were a Dom of his word – and that’s what Monica wanted more than anything else – he would make good on his promise of leaving her to stew in her own needs if she couldn’t follow such a simple command.
Except he wanted to push her. He wanted to test her and see how well she could obey. Henry Warren knew that Monica was a seasoned sub. That meant she knew how to practice mind over matter in order to play the long game.
Mind over matter was not working super well right now. Monica stared at the back of her blindfold, sucking in her breath every time the plug threatened to make ripples of pleasures tear through her. With her luck, Henry would walk back in during the moment. Yet the result would more likely be him coming back in after one, two orgasms, and sighing at his new girlfriend’s inability to follow the simplest of instructions.
Please come back soon. What was he even doing? Who was he talking to? Monica couldn’t believe that Henry would schedule at-home meetings on a day they planned to spend together. Was it his intention to tie her up and draw things out like this? Did he know, from the moment he picked her up the day before, that he would do this to her?
Was he downstairs talking to a business associate while thinking of her? Was he practicing his own method of mind over matter? His cock straining to become hard, but his mind telling it to hold off a while longer? I don’t know anything about him. Her previous partners… Monica knew how they would react. Maybe they were taking things too quickly.
Stop. No. Don’t! She had to stop moving. No matter how cramped she got, she had to realize that moving around and shifting this part or that part would only end in her betraying Henry’s orders. The more she became aware of the plug inside her, the more it hurt, stretching her enough to make sure she felt it.
It was harder to fight off pleasure. If Henry hadn’t explicitly told her to not climax even once, then Monica would have given in to it. She was denied the day before, and now she was so wound up that tears of frustration began at the corners of her eyes. I’m just one woman. This man is torturing me. A long time since she was able to think that in such a positive way.
Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to fight her desires any longer, she heard the bedroom door click and admit what Monica was beginning to recognize as Henry’s steps.
“There she is.” His voice was heavy, commanding. “Just like I left her a while ago. How are you feeling?”
That was a trick question. Monica remembered that she wasn’t supposed to say anything, and she didn’t believe for a second that Henry forgot. He was testing her. Again.
“Your silence must mean you’re holding out. I admit I’m rather disappointed.” The bed turned downward as his weight sat upon the side. Soon, his firm hand was on her knee, curling around it and advancing toward her spread thighs. “I was looking forward to punishing you. Guess I’ll have to up the stakes even more.”
He stood, his steps carrying him to another part of the room Monica couldn’t see. Up the stakes? What else could he do to her? Start using the flogger or whip? That was sure to make her come at this point… was that what he actually wanted? Should she give in and hope for the best?
She gasped when a cold clamp pinched her nipple. Oh no. Monica bit back the words threatening to stumble past her lips.
“You’re tougher than I ever took you for.” Henry clamped the other nipple, sending Monica into a stratosphere of bitter frustration. He knelt next to her and murmured into her ear, “Most women would have folded by now.”
I’m not most women. Didn’t he know that by now? Monica came from a past built almost entirely on submitting in the bedroom. This wasn’t how she always did it, but Henry was kidding himself if he thought she didn’t have lots of practice in holding back her own pleasure.
“Excuse me, my sweet doll.” Henry ran his hand across her stomach, dipping his finger into her navel and threatening to touch her mound below. “I’ve got one more thing to tend to before taking my pleasure with you. I won’t be long. And neither will you be long for this carnal coil, I see.” He tipped his finger against her chin. “Hold back a few more minutes. Remember… not a word until I tell you otherwise.”
Monica didn’t dare nod. She had the power to say her safe word if necessary, and that was enough.
The door opened and closed again. What in the world was he doing? Was this a part of his game with her? Not that Monica didn’t like it. But obsessing over Henry’s true motives gave her a distraction from the plug in her ass and the clamps on her nipples. Every time she gave herself the luxury of thinking about those she had to fight off an orgasm biting at her toes and squirming inside her stomach. Whenever she moved, she became wetter between the legs until she moaned from the effort it took to try to hold her climax in.
What a sight she must be. A small woman dressed in brand new lingerie and tied up like this in a rich man’s bed. For all she knew, a door had been left open for the staff to glance in and see. Wouldn’t that be something… Monica shuddered. She liked some sexual humiliation. Throw in some exhibitionism and she might have the time of her life. The only thing better than pleasing her Dom was letting the whole world watch her do it. In another life, Monica would make her fortune catching it all on tape.
I’m his doll. Her legs hurt and her arms cramped from being held together so long. Dolls don’t feel anything. They don’t have any needs. Monica pulled herself into the back of her mind, imagining what it would be like to actually be a doll. Not just any doll. A man’s plaything – his vessel of pleasure. A life-sized doll that didn’t come cheap. No… only the richest, most affluent man could buy a specimen like her. Henry had tied her up according to how he wanted to see her. Monica was his plaything, with careful attention paid to her erogenous zones… not necessarily to please her, but to give him something to admire the next time he walked through that door.
She had to think lifeless. She had to think quiet. She had to think his.
When she released the trappings pinning her to worldly pleasures, Monica was able to turn off the torture going on in her body. Henry would return soon enough. And when he did? She would be ready for him. Whatever he w
anted, she would deliver. After all, she was a doll, and all she cared about was being played with.
Just as she achieved this kind of nirvana, the door quietly opened and closed a final time.
Henry did not immediately come to her. He took his time meandering around the room, having a drink of this and clinking that into a glass tray. Monica heard all these details. She even heard the heavy breaths coming out of his nose, and the unbuttoning of his shirt before it fell to the floor. What puzzled her the most, however, was the feeling of his knee resting on the bed followed by the welcomed sound of his zipper coming undone. Then nothing.
Nothing aside from some breaths and the occasional grunt slipping out of his throat.
Is he stroking himself to the sight of me? Monica wished she could see him with his hand wrapped around his hard cock and taunting her like he taunted her with the plug, the clamps, and the thighs forced apart. If the man were feeling ostensibly cruel, he would come on her mound and then make her wait for him to get hard again. Yet she never heard the hurried breaths of a man on the brink, nor did she feel something wet and warm hit her skin. All she could hear now was the beating of her own heart echoing in her head. Breathe, idiot. The clamps hurt. In a good way that was going to drive her mad.