Going Down

He studied me a moment longer. “It is your submission, your pleasure at my hands, that pleases me. I need to push your boundaries, in order to test my own.”

My thumb was still caught in the band of my panties, and my fingers plucked at the fabric restlessly. “What do you have in mind?”

My voice was scarcely above a whisper.

“You will find out, when you strip for me.” Humor lit his expression, warming me right through.

I reached around and undid my bra, peeling it off. When I cast it aside, he gestured again at my panties.

He wanted me there in that room again. Naked. Why in here? I was about to find out.

When I shoved my underwear down the length of my legs and stepped out of the abandoned lace, he nodded. I went for my lace stocking top and rolled the stocking down my leg. When I changed to the other leg he strolled behind me and stroked his fingers along the underside of my exposed buttock. The brief, provocative touch sent my nerve endings crazy. It was hard to keep undressing, but I had to.

Once entirely naked, I dropped the second stocking and presented myself.

Armand opened a drawer in one of his cabinets, and lifted out a slender stainless steel bar. Cuffs hung at either end of it. He held the slim metal bar out in front of me, his fist wrapped around it at the center point. “Offer me your wrists.”

I did as instructed.

He did up the metal buckles that held the soft leather in place. I found my arms pushed apart by the object. I’d never seen anything like it and as I observed I realized I was now helpless. I couldn’t move my hands unless he allowed me to.

When it was in place, he wrapped his fist around the middle between my hands, and lifted it, stretching my arms over my head. The movement was so sudden and so unexpected that I gasped aloud. My shoulders rolled and locked, my breasts lifting and then pushing together with the movement. Tension beaded down my spine.

He stared at me, then ran his free hand around my breasts.

My face heated. Unbearably self-conscious, I turned my head to one side.

“You flush so beautifully, because your skin is so pale.”

I squirmed. No longer sure I could do this—even though I wanted to—I had to bite my tongue to stop from replying. Then his fingers locked on my uptilted nipple, and he fondled the stiff peak. Pain rang through me, delicious pain, like a heady intoxicant that made my groin heavy with longing. If I thought I’d been his plaything before, it had been nothing on this. He had complete control of me now. My head dropped back and I cried out.

His gaze drifted down my body and back up. “I intend to explore every part of you.”

My skin was damp, everywhere, heat breaking out on the surface of my body. I lifted one foot, shifting my weight. I knew the look in my eyes was pleading, I meant it to be. “Please, Armand.”

When I begged, he lowered his arm, tugged me right against him with the bar, and kissed me. Hard. Each time I felt the thrust of his tongue in my mouth my center ached for him to thrust there, too. The heat between my thighs had built, and I could feel the sticky tracts of my juices marking my inner thighs. My heart soared, the rush of raw emotion I felt for the way he handled me entwined with the real physical desire I felt. Breaking with the kiss, he led me with the bar, taking me to one corner of the room. There he lifted my arms above my head again, and latched the bar on to a hook that I had not previously noticed. I was at full stretch, my spine straight.

The room was his arena, his play den. The solid table, the cabinets and their contests, the hook. What else hadn’t I noticed—what else was there to explore?

Armand stroked my body, taking full advantage of my helpless state to explore me. My skin was tingling wildly, everywhere, my nerve endings ragged. Then he lowered to a squat in front of me, ran his thumbs down my pussy, opening me up. Inside a heartbeat, his mouth had covered my clit. The metal restraint creaked when my body jerked. He stroked his tongue up and down over my clit. I was so sensitive from his earlier ministrations that I felt sure I would have pushed him away with my hands on his shoulders, had I been free. It was almost too much, and when his tongue rode back up, there was nothing I could do but submit.

“So sensitive! Armand…please…”

Back and forth his tongue went. It was as if he loved oral sex and couldn’t get enough of me—either that or he wanted to drive me insane. My clit thrummed, and a wave of release hit me. I’d barely inhaled, and his fingers were thrusting into my sex. One of my legs lifted as I tried to pull away from the intense stimulation, my knee against the side of his head. When I glanced down I found him looking up at me with dark eyes, possessive eyes.

My legs shuddered. For a moment I hung limp in the restraint, allowing the hook to hold me up. I didn’t care how I looked.

“Oh, yes, you’re ready to offer yourself now.”

Ready? Apparently he’d only just got started. How much more could I take? I’d never experienced such an intense barrage of stimulation, from pleasure to pain, desperation and embarrassment; it all hit me, tearing down my defenses and making me powerless and malleable in his hands.

He rose to his feet and held my waist. He kissed me and the pungent taste of my own arousal in his mouth made me aware of just how horny I was. How had this happened? I wondered vaguely as I let him possess me. Sex had never been like this before.

“The shame will soon be gone, all of it. Then you will only beg for the pleasure.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I seriously wasn’t sure. My current state was a combination of bliss, acute arousal and humiliation, the latter because his mouth was so heavy with my musk.

He gave husky laugh. “A promise.” He ran his thumb over my cheek. “Freedom from shame is a wonderful gift, you will know this soon.”