34. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Morgan
W alker and I have had sex almost every night since we made up, ranging from rough and primal, to soft and tender. But none of those moments remotely come close to beating this, because what’s happening right now is another level of intimacy. This is about trust and vulnerability. Exploration and communication. It’s sexy and beautiful, but it’s also challenging and rigid. It ties everything we feel for each other into one perfectly kinky bow.
There are so many emotions and sensations associated with kink that it can be hard to focus on just one singular thing. But if I had to choose something to pinpoint, it would be love. Because even though Walker has me strung up in his office, standing on the balls of my feet with a hook in my ass and clamps on my nipples, he’s watching me like a hawk. There’s sinful lust swimming in the pools of his eyes, but there’s also intense adoration shimmering through the surface.
“Give me a color,” he asks, glancing up at me from his textbook-covered desk. He’s been pretending to “study” with his bare feet kicked up for the past ten minutes, but I know without a doubt that there’s no way he’s focusing right now. How could he?
“Green, Sir,” I reply despite the ache in my calves.
When we got back from our date, he asked me to go to his office, undress, and wait for him in a kneeling position facing the wall. While I knew exactly what he wanted because we’ve discussed expectations if we use a more formal dynamic, I couldn’t help myself from waiting for him in his desk chair. Technically, I was naked, kneeling, and facing the wall, but he didn’t seem to find as much humor in it as I did when he entered the room.
I had to bite back my smirk when he told me to try again, his tone dry and harsh in the most delicious way. When I eventually followed his instructions, he bent down and told me that there would be consequences for my “ silly little deviance .”
And he wasn’t lying.
After making me wait far too long while he went to get something from his closet, he wrapped a soft rope around my wrists and tossed it over a bolt in the ceiling so that my arms were raised in a prayer-like position. He instructed me to stand, pressed his body against my back, and reached around me to place two clamps on my nipples.
I let out a moan, feeling my core clench with needy arousal as I wondered what the purpose of the rope was. It didn’t take long to figure it out though, because as soon as he tugged on it to raise my arms higher, an intense pain burst through my nipples.
He held the rope taught while he teased my body to the edge of orgasm. Eventually, he slid his fingers from my pussy to my ass and pushed one into the tight hole as he continued to torment me until I was begging for more.
In a quick exchange, he replaced his thick finger with something cold and metal around the same size. He let whatever he had just inserted sit comfortably inside me, murmuring praises at how well I was taking it. At first, I thought he had put a small plug in my ass, preparing me for some back door fun later on, but then the metal started to pull at my hips, like I was being lifted in the air.
I tried to turn and see what was happening, but Walker spanked me hard in correction. The movement pushed the device further inside my back entrance, shooting ripples of desire through me despite the unusual sensation.
I shifted on my feet, trying to lower my arms from their strained position and alleviate the ache in my nipples. But as soon as relief came, an intense tension coming from the metal inside my ass demanded my attention, forcing me to return to the original position.
A whimper came out of my mouth at the realization that I was stuck—the hook in my ass was connected to the clamps on my nipples. I needed to find my balance or one end of my body would be stuck in erotic hell.
As Walker worked to tie the contraption off, he leaned in again and asked if I was ready for the punishment. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, nor could I really concentrate because all of my attention was focused on staying as still as possible to keep the tension in equilibrium.
But then he lowered to a squat behind me, nipped at my inner thigh, and had me lift my heels off the ground so that I was standing halfway between my tip-toes and the floor. Once satisfied, he trailed his fingers up the backs of my legs and instructed me not to drop down to the ground. He made another quick adjustment to the rope before he stepped back and ordered me to face him.
Instinctively, my heels dropped to the ground as I pivoted in his direction. The shift caused the ache in my nipples to transform into a spasm of pain, and I spewed a stream of curse words at him. I quickly righted my position, standing as tall as I could on the balls of my feet to ease the pull on both ends of the rope.
I shot Walker a dirty look through the wisps of hair that had fallen over my eyes, hoping he knew what I thought of this particular punishment. The predicament of the rope between my ass and clamps was incredibly arousing because I had to find a balance, or risk delicious pain. But the addition of the stress position was almost cruel and left me wondering how long I could last.
He watched me struggle for a moment before he reminded me of my safeword and turned on his heel to walk away. Lounging back in his chair, he turned on the lamp at the corner of the desk and schooled his focus to his work.
I could feel the arousal dripping down my leg as I shifted, trying to get comfortable as my calves grew tired. Who knew kink could be such a workout?
When Walker finally checks in, he seems pleased. He closes his book and stacks items on his desk with deliberate slowness. I feel my body relax despite the tension in my legs, knowing that he’s had enough punishment and is ready to finish our play.
Standing from his desk, he crosses the small room. He stops inches from my face, his body towering over me with pure dominance. My eyes drop to his dark jeans, noticing the distinctive bulge between his legs that tells me he’s just as into this as I am.
He reaches out to redirect my attention, his rugged, heady scent washing over me as he brushes my sweaty hair from my face.“Are you ready to continue?”
I close my eyes and lean into his touch, wanting to feel more of him. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
My core clenches with his words, surprised by how much I like the praise when normally his filthy degradation gets me off. But this scene isn’t about rough sex or name calling, it’s about freely given submission—it’s about experimenting together, pleasing each other, and finding mutual enjoyment from a new dynamic.
Walker drops his hand from my face and moves it to the slick area between my legs. He easily slides his fingers through my pussy and slips two inside of me, resting them against my inner wall. I adjust my feet, hoping for some additional friction, but the slight movement shifts the strain of the rope on the hook and forces a whimper from my lips.
“I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, trying its hardest to come for me,” he says quietly, breath hot against my ear. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”
His thumb grazes my clit and a shudder of arousal pulses through my core from the slight touch.
“Yes, Sir. I want to come, Sir.”
A deep growl of satisfaction rolls through his throat. “I’ll tell you what. You let me play with you a little longer, and I’ll let you come. How does that sound?”
I swallow harshly, not sure how much more playing I can take. “Good, Sir.”
Walker steps back, slipping his fingers out of me so abruptly that I have to focus on keeping my body steady, and not the empty ache from the loss of his touch. He moves out of my view without another word, leaving me wondering how long he’ll keep me strung up and needy.
God, I hope it’s not long.
A moment later, he returns with a black riding crop and stops in front of me. Other than spanking me with his palm occasionally during sex—something I definitely enjoy—we haven’t explored any other impact play. I draw my eyes over the instrument, noticing the triangular tip at the end.
He caresses the metal length of the crop with his hand, his biceps practically bulging out of his fitted T-shirt. Holding his palm out, he smacks the tip against his skin a few times. The sound of the crop as it swooshes through the air is intimidating, but with each blow, he doesn’t even flinch.
If I had to guess, I’d assume he has a high pain tolerance given the ink smattering his left arm, but the sting can’t be that bad if he doesn’t react atall . . . right?
Desire races through me as he touches the leather tip of the crop to the base of my neck, dragging it along my collarbone. He presses it into my skin, flattening the head against my shoulder and rubbing it down my arm in a gentle caress. Repeating the process on my other side, I feel myself arching into it, like the toy is an extension of him in some way.
He glides the cool metal up my neck and to my cheek, before pulling back and tracing my bottom lip with the rough edge of the tip.
His eyes fall to my mouth. “Kiss it. Run those pretty lips and tongue along my crop before I use it to kiss your soft skin.”
I meet his dark, lust-filled gaze as I press my lips to the toy, darting my tongue over the short length to wet the leather. His pupils dilate when I move to take the entire thing in my mouth, soaking it in my saliva before I release it with a slight pop. A distinctive sense of pride runs through me as his lips quirk into a smirk, praising me once again before he continues.
People always rag on submissives for being weak, or timid, or powerless. But the truth is, I can’t think of a time in my life when I’ve felt more powerful. I could stop this at any time, make him question his carnal desires, and shame him for his kinks, but I’m making the conscious choice to give myself to him for our own mutual pleasure—I can’t think of anything more empowering.
Walker trails the tip of the crop down my body, benevolently avoiding my clamped nipples. He slides it over my belly, and I widen my stance while trying to avoid the tug of the hook on my ass from the movement. The leather strokes the length of my inner thighs, all of the nerves singing with desperation beneath its gentle caress.
Once he reaches the crease of my thigh, he slowly slides the flat side through my slit, stopping right above my clit. I feel my core clench in anticipation of him swatting the sensitive bud, but he doesn’t. He just holds it firmly against my pussy, watching me with hooded eyes like he enjoys the way I squirm.
I wince when he finally pulls back, my body tensing as I prepare for a blow that never comes. Instead, he lifts the tip to his nose, inhales deeply, and lets out a raspy groan like he’s savoring the smell of my arousal.
He drops the crop to his palm again, giving it another testing swat before he positions himself beside me. His body feels like a solid wall of muscle as he presses against me, grabbing my hip with one hand to hold me in place while he drags the crop from the top of my ass to the back of my knees.
Walker strokes my skin like he’s defining the area that he’s about to mark, and I focus on my breathing, each heavy exhale reminding me of the delicious pinch of the clamps.
Finally, he settles the crop against the meaty part of my ass, holding it steady as he tightens his hold on my hip.
“You’re in quite the predicament, little devil. Strung up in my office and forced to decide between the pull from of hook in your ass, or the clamps on your nipples,” he rasps breathily, his erection pressing into my side. “I’m going to use my crop on you now. If I were you, I’d stay as still as possible and take every blow like a good girl. Show me how much you like the pain, and I’ll reward you with pleasure.”
I only nod, bracing myself for the sting.
He strikes my flesh so softly at first that I barely feel it, and then repeats the same tender kisses every few seconds as I adjust to the sensation. Once he’s marked the entirety of my ass, he doubles the force of the blows. This time I hear the distinctive sound of the crop through the air, but the feeling is still tolerable.
Despite the slight pain, the tension in my body fades into a deeply relaxed state, just like it did the night I held his cock in my throat. I take slow, soothing breaths as the pace of his crop escalates, now coming every second and with more force. The hum of arousal in my core is at an all-time high, not nearing orgasm but simply existing in a state of pleasurable pain. It’s intoxicating, and I almost miss the moment Walker stops his whipping.
He drops the crop to the floor and shifts his body to wrap me in his arms. A wave of warmth washes over me with his embrace, and I tilt my neck to allow my head to fall against his chest. He murmurs praises into my hair, telling me that he’s so proud of me, that I did well, that I deserve to come.
I close my eyes with a prolonged sigh as his fingers skim my pussy and slip between the slickness to circle my clit. Almost immediately, the exquisite tension returns, the freight train of my impending orgasm racing toward me. My legs start to quake, both from the exhaustion of holding myself up on the balls of my feet and from the torment of release on the horizon.
Walker immediately picks up on it, slowing his movements.
“No,” I beg, my eyes finding his. “Don’t stop, Sir.”
His brow knits, trying to understand. “Give me a color.”
I wrack my brain, not wanting this to stop but also fully aware that I can’t come like this.
“Yellow, Sir,” I whimper.
His free hand gently reaches down to slide my sweat-covered hair off my neck. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need . . . I need to come so bad but I’m going to fall.”
My legs are far too close to giving out, and if that happens, my nipples are going to rip right off my body.
Realization floods his face, and he quickly snakes his arm around my low belly to secure me against his hard body. The strain of the clamps and hook is still present, but I know without a doubt that he won’t drop me.
“Better,” I confirm, offering him a small smile. “Keep going, Sir.”
I know it sounds ridiculous to use the formal phrase at this point, but I like it. It helps me differentiate between this dynamic and everything else we do, solidifying us into this space with a single word.
Walker’s eyes flicker with arousal as his fingers begin to tease my sensitive bundle of nerves, building me back up as I race toward my release.
He tilts his hips forward, grinding his cock against me, and the shift pulls my arms higher, tugging on my nipples just enough to make me wince.
“I want you to come for me, little devil. Let that pain from those clamps push you over the edge of pleasure. ”
His permission is all that my body needs to let go. I crash over the edge just like he commanded, my core spasming and searching for something to connect with. My inner muscles clench around the hook as the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced shatters through me. My legs definitely give out, but Walker holds me in place, murmuring praises as he rubs me through the exquisite high.
When I finally come out of my euphoric fog, I feel jostling behind me. The rope connected to the hook in the ceiling slackens, allowing me to lower my sore arms from their raised position. I finally settle to my heels, the ache of my calves easing substantially now that I’m on the ground.
I turn to face Walker, holding my hands out so that he can release me from the rope secured around my wrists.
The harsh lines of his mouth tip up, an amused smirk forming on his lips. “Oh no. I’m not done with you yet. Kneel.”
I blink at him for a moment, confused but too placated by my orgasm to question his request. Sinking to my knees, I feel the hook jostle inside my tight hole, reminding me that I’m still very much in submissive territory.
Walker grabs something from his desk drawer before lowering his body in front of me so that we’re at eye level. It’s funny that I once questioned how he felt about me because the look in his eyes now is exactly the same one that he had the night of the engagement party—yearning.
I don’t look down at what’s in his hands, instead choosing to focus on the man in front of me.
“Once I put this gag in your mouth, you’re going to need to use your nonverbal safeword. Do you remember what it is?”
We’ve used squeezes before, but that only works if I’m touching him. So instead, I shake my head back and forth twice, holding his gaze.
“Good girl,” he praises, voice low and soft. “Open up for me.”
My eyes flutter closed as I follow his command, body tingling with contentment. Something slides along my tongue but it stops before I feel like I have to choke. A soft leather panel similar to a muzzle covers the lower half of my face, and though they’re not being held open like a traditional gag, my lips instinctively wrap around the rubber.
I breathe through my nose as he secures it behind my head, pulling tight so the gag presses deeper into my mouth. As best as I can, I run my tongue along the toy, trying to work out what is.
“It’s a cock gag,” Walker says, answering my non-verbal question. His fingers tug on the rope attached to the hook, jostling the metal deeper into my ass as he secures it to something. “Figured I would keep your mouth occupied while I fuck that tight little pussy on my desk.”
He pulls on the back of the strap, forcing me to arch my neck to avoid choking on the rubber. My eyes fly open, trying to determine what’s happening even though I know that he’s still behind me, and I won’t be able to see a damn thing. Drool starts to collect in my mouth, and I groan with frustration when I realize that I can’t swallow. My lips tighten around the dildo to keep the saliva in as Walker appears in front of me, the end of the rope in his fist.
His foot kicks out, jerking on the chain between my breasts. I’d almost forgotten about the clamps, but his movement sends a sharp sting down my spine and directly to my clit. I suck harder on the gag to silence my whimper, keeping my eyes glued to him .
“You know,” he muses, wrapping the rope around his hand several times. “I think I’d actually like to go for a walk before I fuck you. What do you think?”
My mouth must drop open slightly because I feel a distinct wetness run down my chin. His dark eyes follow the trail of drool, blowing wide with arousal.
His tone transforms from soft to mocking. “I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, little devil?”
I don’t answer because that’s not what he wants. I just blink up at him through my lashes, wondering what the hell he’s planning.
He shows me instead of telling me, the muscles in his tattooed forearm rippling as he yanks on the rope. It sends the hook deeper and presses into some inherently pleasurable area that I’ve never tapped into. I shift on my heels, trying to alleviate the ache building between my legs again.
“Let’s walk to my desk,” he commands, drawing his gaze over my naked body.
I move to stand but he tugs on the rope again, jerking me back to the ground.
“No, no,” he tuts, lips in a harsh line. “I’m going to walk. You’re going to crawl in front of me, leashed to the hook in your ass like the good little sub you are.”
I nod to indicate my understanding, his words turning the tingle in my body to a full-blown sizzle. In any other situation, this would be humiliating. But with this man, it’s hotter than hell. I shift my body to the desk, leaning forward so my weight rests on my hands and knees.
Walker instructs me to keep my head up, but I must not do it to his liking because he tightens his grip on the rope, simultaneously adjusting the position of my head and the strain of the hook. The arch of my neck forces my jaw open and a waterfall of saliva spills onto the cowhide rug beneath me.
“Crawl for me, little devil. Show me how that stuffed ass and soaked pussy look your gagged mouth drools all over my floor.”
My body pulses with need as I follow his orders, sliding my still-bound wrists forward. My legs trudge behind, trying to work in tandem so that the strain on the rope doesn’t get too tight.
When I make it to the corner of the desk, I sit back on my heels and wait, thankful to give my knees some rest. The majority of the room might be covered in a rug, but there are still hardwoods beneath that make crawling surprisingly painful.
Walker tugs on the hook, lurching my body backward so that I’m sitting on my ass. I stare up at him, noticing the ripple of tension in his jaw and the riding crop in his other hand.
When the hell did he pick that thing up?
“Did I tell you to stop?” he growls.
I try to mutter the words “No, Sir” around the gag, but that only causes more drool to pour from my lower lip. My legs right themselves, sliding beneath me to return my body to a crawling position.
“Let’s do another lap around the room. This time, you only stop when I tell you to.”
My chin dips in acknowledgment before I turn my head and focus on the floor in front of me. I’m half expecting him to swat me with the crop, but the delicious sting never comes, so I lurch forward at a quicker pace now that I’ve adjusted to the tension of the rope.
When I’m halfway around the room, I stop to shift the gag with my tongue so the spit pooling in the back of my throat can escape through the corner of my mouth. As if he was waiting for me to fail, Walker immediately pulls on his makeshift leash to reorient my head and the tension of the hook. I grunt in frustration as I start to move again, earning me a harsh swat to my exposed ass.
“Got something to say?” he taunts, voice grating like sandpaper through the air.
I don’t reply, remaining focused on my end goal as I begin to move again. Walker kisses my skin with the occasional light swat of the crop, like he only just remembered that he was carrying the toy. A torrent of arousal slides down my thighs despite the overwhelming exhaustion overtaking my body. My jaw aches, my legs ache, my pussy aches, and yet somehow I still need more.
Once the requested full circle of the room is complete, I hesitate because he’s not telling me to stop like he said he would. I slow my crawl, attempting to crane my neck and glance back at him.
“I think you have one more lap in you,” he comments, amusement in his tone. “Keep going for me. The last one is always the best one.”
At this point, I’m starting to wonder if my husband has unlocked a new kink because this is a different level of humiliation, even for him.
I attempt to pick up my pace, determined to get through this as quickly as possible, but the rope pulls tighter each time I try, forcing me to crawl . . . well . . . at a crawl.
When I make it to the first corner, the immediate need to come ripples through me, jerking me to a stop. I clench my thighs together to avoid my impending orgasm as I try to figure out where the urge is coming from. It feels like my body is vibrating from the inside out, a steady hiss of pleasure rolling through my entire lower half.
A hard smack lands on my ass, reorienting me to the situation. “Keep going.”
I don’t move, whipping my head in Walker’s direction as another sting kisses the skin of my other cheek.
“I must have forgotten to tell you that the hook vibrates.”
He looks like he’s enjoying himself at my expense, and if I wasn’t gagged, I would break protocol to stick my tongue out at him.
“Keep going,” he repeats, tone dropping lower. “Oh, and little devil? There will be consequences if you come without permission.”
I grit my teeth around the rubber dildo so hard I’m sure they’ll leave puncture marks, summoning the strength to move my body forward. Each second that passes sends me higher into ecstasy, and I focus everything I have on staving off my release.
As soon as I round the final corner and think I’m in the clear, the vibrations intensify—because of course they do—creating an intense pressure in my pussy. I can’t help the moan of pleasure that escapes my lips, giving away the fact that despite the humiliation, I’m enjoying the hell out of this.
“Atta girl,” Walker coos when I finally reach his desk. “You did so well. You can stop now.”
He pulls me to my feet, peering down at me with nothing but satisfaction in his eyes. The pad of his thumb brushes the drool from my chin, gently rubbing it down my neck like he’s painting me. I lean into him, forgetting my impending orgasm as he pulls me into his arms.
“You think you can take a little more?” he murmurs against my hair, pressing his erection into my belly. “Because all I can think about is fucking you on this desk. Making you come on my cock while your ass clenches around that metal hook.”
I nod into his chest because I might be full in other ways, but my pussy has been aching for him all night.
Walker helps me onto the desk, positioning me on my hands and knees again. His palm presses into my upper back, guiding me into a modified child’s pose. The clamps rub against the wooden desktop, intensifying the sensation in my nipples as I settle into place.
“Look at my wife,” he drawls to himself, trailing his fingers down my spine and over the sensitive areas he marked with the crop. “Dripping wet for my cock after taking my torment so well. How the hell did I get so lucky?”
My heart claws at my chest, more from emotion than arousal as he squeezes the crease of my ass and slips his fingers into me. I’ve asked myself that exact question multiple times this week because the truth is that I feel the same way—only we don’t need luck because what Walker and I have could beat all of the odds.