by Vivi Paige
“You bought me, sir,” I said. “If you didn’t bother to check how much of a dirty girl you were purchasing, that’s your fault. I’m here now and you have to deal with me.”
I laughed, caressing her cheek and kissing her softly on the lips.
“You’re a wonder,” I said.
“You know, it’s not fair to tease me when I’m tied up and can’t touch myself,” she said, straining to get a finger on or in her pussy to no avail.
“I think you’re talking too much, Cinderella,” I said.
She giggled and arched an eyebrow impishly.
“Oh, is that so? Well, what do you intend to do about it?”
I turned about, selected a red ball gag and turned back around. She noisily blew a razzberry as I held it up to her lips.
“Oh, poo, I thought you were going to shove your cock in my mouth,” she said with a pout.
“All in good time,” I said. “Open.”
She dutifully opened her mouth, accepting the soft rubber ball. I adjusted the straps and then buckled the one under her chin. Ella groaned as the ball sank deep between her teeth. I checked the fit to make sure it wasn’t pinching anywhere and then patted her cheek gently.
“Now, what was that you were saying?”
Ella proceeded to try and give me a lecture of some kind, struggling with the device in her mouth, but all that came out was unintelligible nonsense and drool. Lots of drool. I put my finger in the stringy secretion and then brought it over to stroke her engorged, purpled breast.
“Oh, are these nice and sensitive now?” I asked sweetly, tracing lines around her areola. Ella’s eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded enthusiastically. I started groping and caressing her swollen mounds, enjoying the little coos and gasps that escaped from behind her gagged mouth. I firmly clenched one in my grip and then moved my other hand down between her legs. Ella nodded and made noises I translated to “uh huh” as I stroked her swollen, dripping wet labia. I wormed my fingers inside her pink walls, enjoying both her gurgling groans and the sound of my fingers squishing deeper inside.
I pushed her back onto the padded table, my fingers still buried in her sweet cunny. She wriggled up farther, knowing what I had in mind. She remained clever and determined in spite of her many handicaps.
“You think you’re about to get my hard cock in your pussy?” I asked.
Ella nodded, her eyes shining and eager.
“Not quite yet.” She groaned in alarm and then laughed as I secured her ankles to the table, spreading them wide in stirrups. Then I held up the one implement a slave girl dreads more than any other—a solitary feather.
Ella’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head no—though she did not use her safe word, which I could detect even through a gagged mouth—as it moved inexorably closer to her wide-open pussy.
“You know where this is going. Don’t you?” I teased. I ran the feather around the circumference of her clitoral hood, enjoying the way her little lady quivered and swelled. I ran two fingers, my index and middle, on opposite sides of her clitoral hood and then squeezed them together.
Ella let out a long, undulating moan, writhing about in her bonds on the leather tabletop.
“It’s a good thing I tied you down so well, or you might fall off,” I said, moving the feather over her trapped and bubbled clitoris. “Tell me how this feels.”
I stroked the feather tip up and down her clit in slow, sensual movements. Ella sucked in a great breath of air and then let it out in a nigh silent squeaking gasp. Her chest heaved again, filling with air, but the second time she let out a piercing, slobber-laden scream of pure torment.
“It tickles, but it feels good,” I said, moving it around in circles. She shivered, strained, and made gagged protests (with no sign of her safe word) but could not escape the feather.
“Do you want me to stop tickling your clitty?” I asked nicely.
“Uh huh,” Ella nodded, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, a glaze of sweat glistening on her soft skin.
“Okay,” I said, moving it immediately from her clitoris to her nipple. Ella’s sigh of relief became a squeal of protest. She laughed behind her gag as I tormented her nipples with the feather, alternating them so her nerves wouldn’t grow numb. I still had her clitoris trapped in my fingers, so I stroked them up and down, kneading and massaging.
Ella begged for permission to come from behind the gag, and I decided to show her mercy. For now.
“Come, Cinderella,” I said. She cried out, writhing on the tabletop, hands and ankles jerking at their restraints. I kept the feather moving, returning it to her clit just as the orgasm subsided. Now super-sensitive, she cried out in misery as I stroked and teased her trapped little pink lady.
“Do you want me to fuck you, instead of tickling you with the feather, Cinderella?” I asked sternly.
She nodded her head, writhing about in futile struggles to escape the feather.
“Then beg me,” I said.
Ella struggled to form coherent speech around the ball gag, managing to burble out a garbled variant of, “Please, fuck me, sir,” that I only made her repeat a few times before I capitulated to the request.
“Very well,” I said, tossing the feather onto her belly and shoving my cock immediately into the quivering pink walls of her love tunnel. Ella moaned, gyrating her body in tune with my own and trying to grind herself down all the more tightly on my rod.
I slapped my hands firmly onto her swollen, purple breasts, digging my nails into their overfull water balloon surfaces. Ella gurgled, her eyes rolling back in her head as all the myriad competing and conflicting sensations became one ecstatic throb of pleasure. She belonged to me now. She’d given herself body and soul to me. I used that control, that submission, to take her to heights of ecstasy she could never hope to achieve on her own.
In turn, her pleasure became my pleasure, and when she screamed out for permission to come, I only was able to grant it in halting, stilted speech because I was on the verge of exploding.
“Come—Cinder—Ella,” I gasped.
Ella thrashed around as I leaned into the thrusts harder than ever, sweat flinging from my body with each rhythmic slap. Ella let out a series of guttural groans, still climaxing with a cluster of powerful orgasms that had her clamping down on my rod tight as a vise.
I spent my seed inside of her, slowing the thrusts until I sort of collapsed on top of her. I laid my head on her purpled breasts, using them as pillows, and caressed her gagged face. Ella tried to put her mouth on my fingers, making little cooing noises from behind the ball in her mouth.
Once I’d recovered somewhat, I untied her, releasing her from the bondage bit by bit. We cuddled on the loveseat together, our usual postcoital meeting place. She leaned her body against my own, head on my shoulder. I stroked my fingers through her silken blonde hair, staring down at her with adoration.
“Sir can do that to his Cinderella any time he wants,” she said with a tired but happy sigh.
“We have the rest of our lives to explore your limits,” I said. “And mine.”
She snuggled up against me and sighed.
“I love you, Ella,” I said.
“I love you, too, Deryk.” She patted my chest.
“Hey,” I said suddenly. “I know we metaphorically burned the contract and all—”
“We don’t need the contract any longer,” she said. “It was an artificial construct, and while it provided a lot of fun, we’ve moved past the need for it. Besides… would you really want to not touch me from midnight until sunrise every night?”
“Hell no,” I said. “But that wasn’t what I was getting at. I have no regrets for burning that contract. I was wondering about a different kind of contract. A vow, really.”
I slipped down to my knee and reached under the loveseat to extract a little jewelry box, which I’d purchased years before, right when the homecoming dance was about to happen. Right when she broke up with me.
“Oh god,” Ella
said, her hand flying in front of her mouth as I opened the box and showed her the ring within. I hoped it wasn’t too out of style.
“Ella Ashmore,” I said. “You’re already my Cinderella, but would you do me the honor of being my wife as well?”
She smiled, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and nodded.
“Yes, Deryk,” she said, holding out her hand. I slipped the ring onto it, feeling ecstatic. I’d given up on this dream for so long, but now it was finally coming true. All the money, all the power meant nothing. Nothing.
“My life is meaningless without you,” I said, kissing her hand softly. “You make me happy. I hope we can spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Me too, Deryk,” she said, kissing me softly. “But I do hope my position as wife doesn’t negate my status as your Cinderella.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I said. “I’ll be your husband, but I’ll also be your sir.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ella said.
We embraced tightly, and I kissed her warmly and tenderly. My only problem now was, what would my new identity be now that I was no longer the whiny goth son?
I decided it didn’t matter. Only one person’s opinion mattered to me, and she had agreed to be my wife.
I had found my Cinderella, gave her a glass slipper, and lost her at the stroke of midnight. But then, I got her back.
And we lived happily ever after.
Thanks for reading Ella and Deryk’s story! Want more of the Mayhem Ever After Series? Check out His Snow White!
She intends to kill me… I just might let her.
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She came to kill me, but did much, much worse…
She made me fall in love with her.
Selena Yeltsin: black hair, pale complexion and curves for days… she’s like Snow White.
If Snow White were a hired killer.
Her dad was one of the biggest of the Olaf family bosses.
Until Selena’s stepmother had him assassinated.
Then Selena went to work for her as a hired gun.
She’s polished off sixty-nine targets. Her seventieth buys her freedom.
Guess who it is?
Me.
Aiden Mayne.
It’s fitting, actually.
Because offing people is my calling in life, as well.
I’m sent to handle the problems that float back to the surface no matter how many times you flush.
I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to settle down with a woman.
Why would I? When I could have had anyone I want?
Could have. Past tense.
Because the moment I meet Selena, it hits me.
We belong together.
This is my woman. The one I’ll never leave.
I’ll fight and kill for her.
Even as she tries to kill me.
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About the Author
Vivi Paige is the sekrit pen name of a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author who decided she wanted to play on the dark side of happily ever after… Join her in a sinister world of murder, mayhem, and marriage.
Find Vivi online at… https://vivipaige.com
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She watched him kill… Will he let her walk away?
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Copyright © 2020 by Vivi Paige
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