My mind spun around in a lust-filled cloud of confusion. “Nipple clamps?”
An annoyed look crossed over his face. “The bloody nipple clamps that were inside the bag I gave you. I told you to wear everything in the bag! Why have you disobeyed me?”
It took a few moments for his words to finally register in my foggy brain. “Look,” I breathed out, flustered. “I saw no nipple clamps. I’m not even sure what those are.”
He sighed, exasperated. “There was a long silver chain in the bag. The corners had clasps on them. For the nipples.”
Ah, now I remembered. “The chain is in my purse. I didn’t know what it was for. I apologize.”
“Sir.”
“Huh?”
“I apologize, Sir.”
“I apologize, Sir,” I repeated, mortified.
His eyes softened. “That’s my girl. I’m quite surprised you didn’t know what the chain was. You really are new to this, aren’t you?”
I looked away, embarrassed. “You know I am.”
He let out a hoarse chuckle as he walked away from me. I glanced at him over my shoulder and saw him rummaging through my cherry metallic calfskin Chloé bag until he pulled out the nipple chain thing. He walked back to me with long, graceful strides, looking every bit the seducer he was. His gaze bored into mine, eyes slightly narrowed, full of promises of erotic delights to come.
“You will have to become accustomed to these,” he said, attaching one of the clamps to a nipple, “for you’ll be wearing them quite often.” I flinched at the sudden sharp pain, but then felt nothing more than a slight pressure when he tightened the clamp to my nipple. When he finished with my other nipple, he pulled on the chain that linked my breasts and studied my reaction. I shot out a startled “Ow!” when I felt a sharp pinch. He seemed satisfied with my reaction.
“You shall wear these quite regularly,” he explained. “Not precisely these though. These are for beginners. You shall be wearing the real ones once you’ve become accustomed to the sensation.”
He stood back and inspected his handy work. “Lovely,” he murmured approvingly. “Now pull up your skirt and sit on that chair over there.” He indicated the black leather reading chair that stood several feet across from his desk. “I want to see all of my merchandise.”
He looked at me as if to check for my reaction to his last sentence. I smiled at him. His words hadn’t offended me. At this point, I was too aroused to feign indignation. He could call me a disgusting streetwalker from hell for all I cared. I wanted him and that was that.
Lifting my skirt, difficult to do with the tight leather, I headed toward the chair, the high heels making loud click-clack sounds on the hardwood floor. I cast a glance over my shoulder and noticed his eyes were fixed on my bare derriere.
“You’ve got a great ass,” he purred seductively.
Lust shimmered within me as I plopped down on the chair. Seton stood in front of me, hands on lean hips, his lustful eyes fixed on me. I squirmed slightly in my seat. It felt strange, sitting here, practically naked in front of a very enigmatic, sexy man telling me what to do. I crossed one leg slowly over the other and tried to look relaxed.
Seton frowned. “Spread your legs. I want to see your cunt. ”
My legs quivered as I uncrossed them and spread them apart.
“Wider,” he ordered hoarsely.
I opened my legs as wide as I could. My vagina was now fully exposed. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared as he fixed his smoldering gaze upon my naked flesh, melting me where it rested. I tried not to cower away from his ardent eyes.
“That’s better,” he drawled sexily, squatting down in front of me.
He stared at my pussy for a long time. His nostrils flared again and his eyes became all the more lust-filled as he feasted upon the view in front of him. Pressure erupted down below, fanning through the rest of me in liquefying waves.
“You’re all shaved except for that slight trim in the middle,” he admired thickly. “That’s good. I’m not into completely bald pussies. I like my women to look like women, not like prepubescent girls.”
He continued to gaze hungrily at my cunt. “You’re quite wet,” he purred. “You’re going to be wonderful to break, my pet, and I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”
His words were making me restless. My pussy throbbed and became slick with moisture as if he’d touched me there, which he hadn’t. I clutched at the arms of the chair, digging my nails into the leather, fighting the desire that was coursing through me. I was getting impatient. I wanted his hands on me, wanted him inside of me. I wanted him to do all of the things he’d wanted to do with me, whatever that entailed. I wanted to run my hands up and down his beautiful body, but he hadn’t as much as removed his shirt. I wondered where this was all going. When would he touch me? When would I touch him? I also wondered about the endearment he’d just used—if that’s what it was.
“Your pet?” I asked.
“Yes, my pet,” he answered darkly, passion-filled eyes boring into mine. “That’s what you’ll be called from here on in. I shall train you and teach you obedience, just like I would to an animal, hence the sobriquet for you is ‘pet.’ You teach a pet tricks, you discipline a pet when it’s been bad, you own a pet and, in turn, your pet is loyal and devoted to you. The word suits you, don’t you think?” A slight smile curved his mouth before he turned serious again. “I may choose to call you something else, perhaps my thing, or my slave, or even my whore. But whatever I choose to call you—no matter how humiliating it may seem to you—you shall accept it without question. I am, after all, your master, and I shall do with you what I please. Understood?”
Mesmerized, I nodded. If only he knew what his words did to me, how hot and tingly they made me. And perhaps he did know. Perhaps he’d always known that this was my secret fantasy. Maybe dominant men had a sort of radar that allowed them to know which woman was submissive and which one was not—sort of like the radar Jeremy had when it came to spotting gay men. Otherwise why did Seton pick me to be his sexual slave? Why not one of the other women at Bookends AtoZ? Why not Cheryl, the voluptuous managing editor, or Rosie, the pretty twenty-year-old receptionist? Why me? Why was I singled out? There was nothing remarkable about me. I was hideous compared to him. I never uttered a single word to him whenever I ran into him at Starbucks. Whatever his reason was for singling me out, I was glad he did.
“Good,” he said. “Now close your eyes.”
I hesitated, my heart beating faster with fear and anticipation. What would he do to me that required me to close my eyes?
“Close them,” he repeated, harsher this time.
I closed my eyes.
“Good pet,” he said approvingly, patting me softly on the head as if I were a dog. “Now relax and don’t move.”
I heard him walk away, the sound of his shoes echoing on the hardwood floor. Curious, I slid one eye open, hoping Seton wouldn’t catch me doing so, to see where he was going, but I saw nothing. I heard his footsteps coming toward me, so I closed my eye again.
“You may open your eyes now, but when I tell you to keep them closed, you do as I say,” he warned. “I expect to be obeyed at all times, or the consequences won’t be pleasant for you.”
I shuddered at the sharp tone in his voice. Had he seen me peeking? I hoped not! I wanted to be obedient to him, wanted to experience being dominated in all that it entailed. I wanted him to be proud of me.
I opened my eyes and noticed his gaze was now upon my feet. He smiled as he squatted in front of me and softly smoothed his hand over my ankle with the bracelet. “You look great in these heels,” he praised. “Whorish heels. They truly suit you.”
He looked up at me through thick lashes and flashed me a wolfish grin. I blushed.
He laughed. “Come now, Miss Fordham, you haven’t gone shy on me, have you?” he teased.
I shrugged and bit on my bottom lip. I wasn’t shy, far from it, but with him I became someone else. Someone I ha
dn’t known was in me.
“I must explain the ankle bracelet and matching toe ring to you,” Seton said, turning his gaze back to my anklet-clad foot. “This is a Dominant’s version of a wedding ring. At any rate, it is my version of the same. During the entire course of our courtship, you shall wear these at all times, even when I am not with you. The bracelet and ring signify my ownership and mastery over you, making you mine in both body and spirit. Is that understood?”
I could only but nod.
Seton looked up at me and smiled. It was a sweet, gentle smile, not a mocking, arrogant one, like the ones he usually gave me. A soft expression passed over his handsome features. I became breathless for a moment, and basked in the steadfast warmth of his gaze.
“Now close your eyes again,” he ordered softly. “And no peeking.”
I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
Gently, his hands encircled my wrists, pulling them behind my back. I heard the clasping of something on one wrist, then the other. The clasps felt like cold metal. Handcuffs. He’d cuffed me to his chair. His hands moved down to my feet and cuffed my ankles to the legs of the chair. I was now completely immobile and totally at his mercy.
“Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise,” he bit out, unnecessarily so, for I hadn’t opened them.
He tugged on the chain attached to my nipples, making me flinch. The pain was a rather odd one—powerful, yet not entirely unpleasant. It made my nipples ache with wanting. I gasped, my body arching invitingly.
“You like that, my pet?” he asked huskily.
I nodded, bucking up my body as best I could under the tight restraints.
He chuckled softly. “You’re doing wonderful thus far, my pet. I am quite pleased.” His calloused fingertips traced my lips in a feather-light touch. “My experiment is working beautifully.”
His experiment was working beautifully. Did that mean he would want to spend more nights like this with me?
“Stay as you are. Keep your eyes closed,” he said, his voice implacable, and I heard him walk away again.
Damn it, where was he going now? I leaned sideways in the chair, stifling a sigh. I was getting antsy. I wanted him to fuck me, wanted him to make me come. My pussy pulsed and wept—it wouldn’t take much effort on his part to make me come at this point.
Keeping my eyes closed, I made use of my other senses. I heard some movement and dumping of things, but I couldn’t make out what he was doing. Then, after a few minutes, I heard the tapping of keys. Curious, I opened my eyes briefly and squinted at his desk. Seton was there, typing at his laptop and frowning in concentration as he stared at the computer screen. Books, notebooks and dictionaries were now piled up on his desk. Apparently, he was writing his book. I closed my eyes again and let out a loud, frustrated sigh, not caring if he heard me or not.
Great. Just great. I was supposed to sit there, with my eyes closed, my legs wide open, my wet cunt desperate for attention, and my hands and feet cuffed to the chair and listen as he typed at his laptop. Was this what he had in mind? Was this his idea of Domination and submission? Were games like this common in this lifestyle? I knew some form of torture, both mental and physical, was often used in D/s encounters, but this was way beyond torture to me! I wanted him, damn it, but all he wanted to do was prolong my aching need for him. For a few seconds, I entertained the thought of becoming rebellious and demand that he let go of me, but what good would that do me? Besides, I was cuffed to the friggin’ chair—I was in no position to get cocky.
“You may open your eyes if you like,” Seton said, startling me. His eyes were fixed on his laptop when I opened mine. He wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to me. This annoyed me, so I sighed loudly again.
I have no idea how long I sat there, waiting for him. An hour had probably passed, but it felt like a torturous eternity. A slight chill swept through my widespread legs, causing me to shiver. A dull ache was coursing through my cuffed wrists. My body was getting sore. My butt felt numb from sitting in the same position for so long, and my nipples ached from accidentally pulling on the friggin’ chain every time I wiggled in my seat. I wished there was some way for me to shift into a more comfortable position. I sighed and cleared my throat several times, but Seton ignored me. He appeared to be completely immersed in his work. For all I knew, he had probably forgotten I was there. Some authors have told me that they get so wrapped up in their writing that they often forget about the outside world and the people around them. Only the story and its characters are real to them. Everything else ceases to exist, and it takes them a while for their brains to seep back to reality. If that was the case with Seton, then I was truly and utterly fucked, and not in the way I wanted to be.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take the discomfort any longer, the typing ceased. Seton stepped away from his computer and sauntered over to me, his hands in his pockets, until he stood right in front of me. One of his legs brushed lightly against my right knee. My gaze drifted down to his trousers. He was as hard as a rock. Hee! So, he hadn’t been oblivious to my presence after all!
I bit my bottom lip and lifted my gaze back to his face. His eyes were half-closed, thick eyelashes covering emerald orbs. His lips were slightly parted. God, what luscious lips he had! I desired nothing more at that moment than a kiss. Just one kiss—like the one we shared earlier in the evening.
“You’ve been good, my pet,” he said, smiling. “Quite obedient. I like that.”
I sighed and cast a lustful glance down at his enormous bulge.
He chuckled softly. “You want to say something, my pet?”
“I want you to fuck me,” I whimpered. My nipples ached as if the chain had been pulled. My cunt fluttered and clenched with need, and the sight of his hardness wasn’t helping matters. I wanted him, needed him. Right now. Never mind the kiss. Never mind anything else. I only wanted him, wanted him like I’d never wanted anyone before in my life. “Fuck me,” I pleaded.
Seton frowned. “Fuck me, what?” he growled.
I bit my lip and sighed again. “Fuck me, Sir. Please.”
His smile returned, showing dimples and white teeth. One of his hands left his pocket and cupped the rampant bulge in his pants. He rubbed his protrusion with a strong, sensual motion that pushed the whole of his cock against the front of his pants. The fabric clung tightly against his hardness, outlining the arresting shape.
“Is this what you want, my pet?” he asked, his voice hoarse and thick with arousal.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to control my aching desire for him, without success.
“Is this what you want?” he asked again, voice harsh.
“Yes,” I breathed out. “Please.”
Slowly, he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his engorged shaft. My mouth went dry at the sight in front of me. His cock was thick and long—stretched taut until it almost reached past his navel, which peeked out of his shirt. The purplish crown was thick and very round. A small drop of moisture crowned the tip. He lowered his trousers down to his hips, showing me the entire package. He had a beautiful set of balls, pink and tight with arousal. My pussy tingled, my nipples puckered all the more painful as I stared, hypnotized, at the masculine beauty standing in front of me.
“Do I meet with your approval?” he asked huskily.
I closed my eyes briefly and let out a strangled moan.
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I watched, enthralled, as he slowly began to move his hand up and down his cock in a languid motion, his fingers squeezing his long shaft while his thumb worked a slow, teasing circle beneath the crown. The tiny drop of come that had been bubbling at the tip had finally wept, trailing down over the round head and landing on his well-hung sac. Seton momentarily closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his strokes became harder—his cock disappearing and reappearing in a faster, more vigorous motion in his fist.
I squirmed in the chair, wincing whenever I accidentally pulled o
n the nipple chain, and tried to move closer to him, to touch him, feel him, taste him. I leaned forward as far as I could, which wasn’t very far, wanting his cock in my mouth. But I couldn’t reach him. My tongue flicked out and had barely made contact with the flaring tip when Seton stepped away from me.
He let out a husky little laugh. “You wish to suck me off, my pet?”
“Yes,” I cried out, trying to reach him with my tongue again.
He took two steps away from me. “Or would you rather fuck me?”
I whimpered and looked at him with pleading eyes. My body trembled, my pussy wept and my nipples ached. I was so ripe, so ready for him, that I thought I would come if he merely teased my passage with just the tip. I had become a shameless wanton, unabashed and unafraid of begging him to fuck me. So I begged.
And begged.
And begged.
Then I begged some more.
But the carnal glint in Seton’s eyes, and his sexy, amused smile, suggested he had no intention of obliging me. He found more pleasure in seeing me in this pathetic state. My capitulation sharpened his arousal. He continued to pump away while I sat there, horny as hell, quivering with the need to have him deep inside me.
Groaning, I cast a heated glance at the rest of him. He must be gorgeous underneath his clothes. If only he would take it all off. If only he’d let my eyes feast upon his masculine body.
Our eyes met. His were still half-closed, looking pained and in control at the same time, a light sheen of perspiration beaded on his forehead. His lips remained parted, the tip of his tongue peeked out of his luscious mouth. I licked my lips and, once again, longed to kiss him. My one wish was to be able to kiss him and touch him like he’d allowed me to earlier. Why was he torturing me this way? Why wouldn’t he let me near him, to kiss him, caress him and fuck his brains out?
I looked down to see the progress of his ministrations just in time to see his hips buck jerkily forward and the head of his cock turn into a darker shade of purple, the tiny hole at the tip gaping at me.
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