Own Me

To make up for it, I go all out tonight. We’re meeting at his house later, but I want to be sure he can see

that I’m committed to this. Being professional again.

I dress in the sheerest lace I can find, a dress that barely counts as one. It’s more lingerie than going-out clothes. I add my tallest heels, a sparkly gold pair that top out at 6 inches high. I can barely walk in them, but that’s fine. I only need to make it from my place to the corner to catch a cab, then from the cab to Gio’s door.

When I’ve finished dressing and dolling myself up to the nines, I wrap a trench coat around my scandalous outfit, and climb into the taxi I called. The whole ride over, I try to psyche myself up for this. It will be fine, I keep repeating, over and over in my head. Gio will understand that I’m trying. He’ll see that we can make this business relationship work, despite whatever personal feelings I might have been crazy enough to let develop.

The car pulls up to his house, and I swallow back my doubt and insecurity. I can do this. I can have sex without catching any more feels than I already have.

I push open the car door and climb out. Take the stairs to his front door slowly, thanks in part to the heels but also in part to my nerves. Before I can even push the doorbell though, he’s already opening the door for me, his eyes sweeping over my face, my coat, my bare legs and high heels. He steps out to catch my elbow and help me over the threshold.

“Thank you,” I say, resting a hand on his chest. But he’s quiet, closing the door behind us. He seems off, somehow, almost… But there’s no way he’d be nervous, too. Is there?

“I’ll take your coat,” he says, in his commanding voice. So this is how it’s going to be. Commanding dom and obedient sub. Back to our usual roles.

I’m fine with that. Or so I try to tell myself.

I slide my coat off and pass it to him. He drapes it over the banister, not even bothering with the closet beside us, and rests his hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward the staircase.

Straight to business, I guess. No more homemade dinners or quiet talks before we get down to this.

I lead the way upstairs, and follow when he guides me toward the bedroom. Inside, though, I hesitate on the threshold, staring at the bed. It’s the same massive bed as ever, but this time, it’s spread with an array of items I never even knew existed.

Some I recognize. The handcuffs and the long length of thick black rope are fairly recognizable. Same with the dildos and, I notice with a quiver of anticipation in my belly, the spade-shaped black toys in several sizes, narrow at the tip, then wide at the base, finished with a flat plug-like shape.

Anal plugs.

I swallow hard.

Some of the things I can’t even figure out. There’s a string of beads and vibrators in at least six different sizes.

“Kneel,” he says, still in that dom voice he gets, and I drop to my knees without thinking.

He walks past me, toward the bed. “Tonight, I am going to let you see this full side of me, Corbella,” he says as he traces his hand over the items. Selecting his favorite.

I take a deep breath when his hand pauses over a fraying whip.

“I’m going to go all out on you. Let you see the depths of my desires, the extent of what this can be.” His hand leaves the whip, and clenches around the long length of rope instead. “Because tonight is the last time I will ever be your client.”

My mouth drops open. I can’t help it. Shock rushes through my system, followed hard on its heels by regret. I knew it. I fucked this up. Irreparably.

I’m still reeling with that announcement when he comes back to me. Pulls my hands behind my back and winds the rope around my wrists. It’s soft, silky, but strong. I can tell as soon as he’s finished tying my hands, when I try to tug them apart. There’s no give. I’m as trapped as I’d be in a pair of handcuffs.

But he doesn’t stop there. He pulls the rope taut, and binds my ankles as well, tying my wrists to each ankle, leaving me utterly helpless.

Then he picks up a soft scrap of cloth. “Open your mouth,” he says.

I part my lips, and he slides the gag between them. I can still breathe easily, and spit the cloth out if I wanted to. But I notice my breath is coming harder and faster against the cloth in anticipation of what he has planned.

Before I can react, he picks me up, as easily as if I were a pillow, and tosses me onto the bed. I’m lying on my side, bound and helpless, entirely at his mercy. And it’s making me so fucking wet that I forget about what he just said. I forget about everything except the feeling of his rough hands on my body, twisting me into whatever position he wants me to take.

He tears the lace off my body, his strong hands ripping through the delicate fabric easily. He does the same to my panties, until I’m naked, vulnerable and exposed.

“I have waited far too long for this,” he nearly growls in my ear as he strips off his own clothes. He doesn’t blindfold me this time. He wants me to see what’s coming.

I appreciate the view, taking in his muscular body and his long, curved cock, already hard as a rock. There’s a drop of pre-cum at his tip, glistening in anticipation, and he takes a moment to just gaze down at me, his eyes hot with appreciation.

“You are such a fucking gorgeous little slut,” he says, his voice soft with something like affection. Or maybe just lust.

I twist against the bonds, trying to turn my body closer to his. He seems to enjoy this, and chuckles softly as he runs his hand over my skin, tracing the curve of my waist, trailing his fingertips along my breast, then down the flat plane of my stomach. Every touch sets of waves of fire in my belly, making my pussy tighten in anticipation. But he takes his time, enjoying this. He always knows how to make me want more. How to get me panting.

I’m so distracted by what his hands are doing that I don’t notice the clamp in his hands until it’s too late. There’s a cool sensation around my nipple, and then a sharp bite of pain as a smooth, round metal clamp closes over the hard nub of my breast. I gasp and twist against my restraints, the pain making me writhe on the bed. But Gio runs his hand through my hair, grips it and turns my face to his. His eyes are dark, sultry. Enjoying this. Yet he locks eyes with me and asks, in a calm, steady voice, “Do you want me to stop?”

My eyes sting, tears forming at the corners. Tears that I refuse to let spill. Not yet. I can handle this. Besides, the more I relax into it, let the pain flow through me instead of fighting against it, the more I’m starting to find that I enjoy the feeling, the hard desire of my taut nipples contrasted with the clamp biting into my left breast.

I shake my head.

Giovanni smiles. “Good.” He grips the clamp lightly, turns it ever so slightly. I cry out again, but just as the pain is reaching a nearly unbearable peak, he slides his other hand between my legs to circle my clit with his thumb, pressing hard enough to evoke a spike of pleasure from my clit, already sensitive with desire.

Just when I’m nearing the edge of what I can take, about to shake him off, beg him to take the clamp off of me, he senses my tension. He releases the clamp, and I gasp in relief as the pain subsides, followed by a rush of tingling to the tip of my nipple as blood flows back into it. This hurts too, but it’s the kind of deep muscle ache you get from hard work, a good ache. And, of course, his thumb continues to circle my clit, distracting me, bringing me to the brink of climax faster than I would have thought possible. I am breathing hard within moments, my whole body tensing, my ankles and wrists straining against the bonds as I try to contain myself. Because I know what Gio expects. I cannot come until he gives me permission.

I lift my eyes to his, even as he holds me at the edge of orgasm, his fingers spreading the lips of my pussy as his thumb continues to circle my clit. There’s approval in his gaze as he watches me, knowing that I’m holding myself back, waiting for him.

A smile spreads across his face as he nods. “Come for me, Cor.”

I don’t even need to think about it. My whole body releases at once, the orgasm flooding through me. My eyes fall closed, and sparks of color play behind my eyelids as the climax pe

aks.

Before I even finish, Gio flips me onto my stomach, my hands and feet bound behind me. He spreads my ass cheeks, and I gasp with shock as his wet, warm tongue delves into the cleft between them. His tongue circles my ass, toys with me, and I quiver with the sensation.

All too soon, though, he pulls back, and I try to twist my hips toward him, not wanting the feeling to end. Then I feel something cool and hard poised at the entrance to my ass, and I tense again. Oh god. Is that…?

I glance over my shoulder to catch Gio’s eye. He watches me, enjoying the nervous expression on my face, the way my eyes widen. He grins, that devilish, playful smile of his that I’ve come to love. Then he presses the toy into my ass.

I gasp, more from my nervousness of what it will feel like than from the actual sensation. Because it doesn’t hurt, I realize. And as he pushes harder, and another sensation spreads my ass wider, it actually starts to feel good.

Anal beads, I realize, after he presses the third bead on the string inside me. He keeps going, the beads getting wider each time, my body tensing and relaxing between each bead, as the pain and pleasure rock through me alternately.

Finally, he reaches the last bead, and tugs gently on the string inside me, twisting it a little inside my ass. I groan through the gag, and that only seems to make him more excited. His cock, hovering next to my cheek now as he kneels over me, is harder than ever, pulsing with desire. He brushes it along my cheek, and I twist my head to press my lips against it, even though I can’t take him into my mouth the way I want to, not with this gag in the way. I spit it out, spreading my lips for him.

But he’s already pulling away, leaning back, and I can feel the heavy weight of my clit, the wetness dripping from my pussy. I want him so fucking badly. Now more than ever, even in spite of all his crazy tastes.