Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

“Fuck,” he grunted. “You’re so wet.” He withdrew his finger and slapped her pussy experimentally. It made her whimper so he struck harder with each damp and humiliating thwack. A knuckle brushed against her anus and she squeaked, trying to buck away, but he only chuckled and did it again.

“You don’t like being touched here?” he turned his attention to her ass, skimming his thumb in slow, light circles, close but not touching. She whined and wriggled, but that only seemed to please him.

“I’m not used to it.” Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed right over it, and she clenched against him.

“Have you been fucked here?”

“Yes. I hate it.”

He chuckled evilly.

“Oh, let me guess – you think you can make me like it,” she grumbled.

He tickled her there a moment, until she was squirming and trying to flip over, which he didn’t allow.

“I have no interest in making you like it. I’ll enjoy punishing you with it.”

“Nate, no!” Her whole body was buzzing with awareness of him, and no matter how many times she’d tried to tell him no, she was so glad he’d only listen to her safeword.

“Then you’d better be a very good girl, Leelee.”

She thought about sticking out her tongue just to see what would happen, but then she remembered the size of his dick and how he could use it for punishment. That changed her mind. She swallowed. “I’ll be good.”

Nate let go of her ankles and picked her up off the couch as though she weighed nothing. Pins and needles rushed through her arms as her blood started to circulate again. Her hands burned.

He carried her into the bedroom and put her face down over the edge of the bed. She turned her head to see what he was doing, but he was standing back and just looking at her.

“What?” she asked self-consciously. Poor guy probably had all sorts of memories from when she’d been young, and now she was chestier and assy-er. She kind of liked herself better the way she was now, but maybe she’d ruined his fond memories.

“I never thought I’d see you again, let alone have you in my bed.”

“Technically, I’m not in your bed. I’m bent over the side of it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sucking his teeth. “You’re right. Maybe putting you all the way into my bed then tying you down would be better.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but when his brows went up expectantly, her gaze dipped to the bulge in his jeans. Oh yeah. Be good or else. “Painal” wasn’t her kink but apparently it was one of his.

In moments he’d untied her arms, and she stretched with grateful enthusiasm.

“Glad to be free? It’s not going to last.”

“You could just tell me where to lie down and order me not to move.”

“I could just tell you what I’d planned to do and skip the whole thing, but where would the fun be in that?”

He grabbed a different type of rope and dragged her into position on the bed. Face up, at least, but spread eagle.

“Stay, or you’re getting an ass full of come.”

“Staying, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He started to work, moving with a fluid precision that was both beautiful and terrifying. The pattern he made left big sections of skin open to his touch, and as he worked he stroked and pinched and tickled, until every inch of her was ready for him to do anything he damn well pleased.

At one point he tugged, and she went up, suspended over his bed, legs tied wide and almost exactly at dick height if he stood on his mattress. Rather than cutting into her, the rope was placed with precision and comfort, and even supported her head. She felt like she was levitating, and considering how hot she was for him, she wasn’t sure she wasn’t simply floating there on a crest of sexual energy.

He cut a piece of rope and folded it over a few times until the looped lengths were about flogger length.