9
GOLDIE
It’s dark at the Bjorn house, just like it was the night I arrived with only work on my mind. Now I’m whirring with thoughts of all that I saw and all that I'm going to experience. It’s a miracle I haven’t soaked through my overalls.
Yes, I put them on over my satin PJs again. It’s easier than deciding on something impressive to wear. I want Robert to imagine what’s underneath my shapeless workwear. I want him salivating to find out.
My heart is beating triple time as I wait at the door for him to answer. At least, I hope he opens up. What if Hunter comes to the door?
But it’s Robert who greets me, dressed in a soft dark brown sweater and jeans, his hair still damp from showering and the scruff on his face looking sexy as hell.
“That was quick,” he says, ushering me in and closing the big heavy door in a rush, locking it with a clunk that punctuates my arrival. Either he’s eager or on edge. I’m not sure which. A flush spreads across my body, heat radiating from my core. “Would you like a drink?” he asks, ever the gracious host.
“Sure,” I reply. “You got anything hard?” I mean liquor, but under the circumstances, I blush furiously at the double meaning.
He meets my eyes, and his lips twitch. I suspect he’d like to make a crude joke in reply, but he’s too much of a gentleman. “Whiskey,” he says. “Or red wine, if that’s too hard.”
I like it hard , I want to whisper. I’d like to drop to my knees and show him just how much I like it.
“Whiskey will be good. Neat.”
Robert sets about pouring two shots of whiskey into two antique-looking crystal tumblers. I wait for him to hand me mine, then knock it back in one hit. Damn, it burns all the way down my throat, but it feels good. “Another?” I ask, and Robert nods.
There’s still a stoic calmness about this man, even though he must be buzzing at the thought that he’ll get to play tonight. I knock back the second shot, the alcohol already beginning to soften my mind. I might have gotten this far, but I need a little courage to go the last nine yards.
“Where are your brothers?” I ask. “Are they here?”
“No. Evan had to run an errand. He’s taken Hunter with him.”
“So, we’re alone.”
“Yes.”
We gaze at each other, my eyes holding his for as long as I can handle the intensity.
“You wanna go upstairs? ”
My throat tightens as he licks his lips. I’m so close. So, so close, I feel like I might collapse in on myself with the weight of emotion inside. I can’t speak to tell him yes, and his eyes search my face for signs that I’m having second thoughts. He’s worried that it’s too much. He’s afraid I’ve just been playing along, and now that we’re close, I won’t be able to go through with it. Could he handle the disappointment? I know I couldn’t.
I’m hit with a wave of tenderness for this man who is so out on a limb for me. I reach out and take his hand, shocked at its warmth. He’s practically burning up. His eyes go to where we’re linked as he wraps his fingers around mine.
“I’m ready.”
A flicker of a smile and the exhale of a deep breath show me exactly how he feels. Then he leads me upstairs.
The room is lit by dim lamps placed on two side tables in opposing corners. It’s warm, from a real fire lit in a magnificent ornate fireplace topped by elegant candles in tall bronze holders. As I gaze around, taking it all in, Robert closes the door behind us and locks it.
Oh, that sound. The twist of a key. The clank of metal against metal.
I shiver despite the heat of the room.
When I turn, Robert seems bigger somehow; shoulders broader, chest wider, and those big hand hang at his sides, flexing. He doesn’t move toward me, but his eyes watch everything. He inhales, his nostrils flaring slightly, and I imagine he can smell me, a heady mix of arousal and fear and the vanilla perfume I sprayed myself with before I left. I smell good enough to eat.
Will he make the first move ?
I doubt it.
I read somewhere that in a dominant-submissive situation, it’s the submissive with all the power. Men like to conquer, but the good ones want to know their woman wants to be pillaged. Being overpowered and controlled is what gets me off. I have to be bold enough to really appreciate it when he takes over.
I walk to him slowly, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his cologne. He really prepared himself for me, and the effort is thrilling. When he washed his cock, did he get hard imagining what he was going to do to me later? I bet he did.
Robert’s eyes search mine, his jaw ticking with the tension between us.
I run a finger down the edge of his face and bite my lower lip, waiting to see if he‘ll take the bait. He has to be willing to come on the journey with me.
“When I was last here, before you called, I was touching myself, imagining this.”
He grabs hold of my wrist and grips it tightly, his nostrils flaring as he brings my hand to his nose and inhales deeply. His eyes close as if the smell of me has made him lightheaded. The way his big hand feels cuffing my wrist makes me woozy, too.
“You shouldn’t play with me,” he almost growls, staring at me with fiercely hopeful eyes.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He takes the bait. His free hand grabs hold of the zip of my overalls and yanks it down to my crotch, and then he pushes the overalls off me until they rest like a puddle at my feet. Standing in just my lingerie, I feel vulnerable and powerful. I have something he wants very much; the ability to let him live out his fantasies, and for the first time in my life, I’m going to give in to mine. I’m so excited I can hardly breathe.
“If it gets too much, you can tell me to stop at any time. Just pick a word, something that won’t be misconstrued in the moment.”
I say the first word that comes into my head. “Porridge.”
Robert smiles wickedly. “With a name like Goldie, I should have guessed you’d have a fairytale fixation. Well, what happens next won’t be like any kind of fairytale you’ve read.” He leans down until his face is just an inch from mine, our breath mingling in the space between us. The intensity of being gripped so tightly and the sheer size of him looming above me is enough to make me wet. “You remember your word?” I nod. “Good.” He bends down even further until I almost feel his lips against mine.
Then, his hot tongue licks my top lip.
I feel the sensations everywhere, from the roots of my hair to my clit, and moan just from that fleeting touch. He does it again, this time taking my top lip between his and gently sucking. He tastes of whiskey, and his lips are firm against mine. He kisses me with slow, explicit strokes of his tongue, holding my head still with the firm grip of his hand in my hair, and I whimper at the restraint. He pulls back slowly, lids heavy and lips wet, then slowly walks me back to the bed.
“Tell me what you want,” he orders.
I blush, unsure if I can really articulate my fantasies. He brushes a finger over the heated skin of my cheeks. “Anything,” he whispers. “I’ll do anything. But I can’t guess, sweet Goldie. You have to use your words. ”
Between my thighs, my clit swells with pooling heat and I take a deep breath, fortifying myself by straightening my shoulders. I can do this. “I want it all,” I admit, holding his gaze. “Pain, pleasure, for you to take me outside my comfort zones, make me beg, plead, deny me and then give me everything.”
His face softens, like I just told him I’m in love with him. “I’m going to make your fantasy real.” His eyes darken into obsidian pools of wicked intent. “Get on the bed and spread your arms and legs.”
I do as he bids, shivering as my back hits the cool sheets and the metal of the first cuff presses against my wrist. When the mechanism clicks shut, I sigh. Robert presses his lips to the skin above the cuff and kisses gently.
Next, he fastens my foot using a leather strap. He’s careful to place it where there are no Band-aids, and I watch him work, his huge hands gracefully completing the task without fumbling. He walks to the other corner and grasps my other foot, looking up at me as he draws it toward the restraint. It’s a stretch for my legs to spread this wide, and his eyes seek my agreement. When he’s content that I want it as much as he does, his eyes drift to the scrap of satin between my legs. I can feel how wet I am. Maybe he can see, too. The thought is as mortifying as it is exciting.
Then I have just one hand free.
In my fantasy, I’ve always been blindfolded before this so I can keep the man who’s involved anonymous. The reality of seeing Robert, so big and intense, making me immobile, is so much more arousing. Warmth floods between my legs, and I lick across my dry lips, wanting to taste him again. As he steps closer to my hand, I have a sudden urge to defy him. I draw it toward my body and look him square in the eye.
“It’s like that, is it, Goldie? You want to play with me? You want to make me work for it?”
His eyes burn with desire at the challenge.
“You want it, you take it,” I say.
In a flash, he grabs and forces my hand to where the cuff is waiting. “I want it, Goldie. I want it so badly, I can almost taste it. And I’m going to give it to you so hard, you’re not going to be able to sit tomorrow without remembering what I did to you.”
I moan as his words lick over my skin like a hot, wet tongue.
Robert surveys me and then looks around the room as if he’s considering his options. The plethora of toys he has at his disposal is mind-boggling. How far will he push me the first time? I’m trembling with anticipation.
Rather than seeking the equipment, he moves further down the bed and fingers the edge of my camisole. “I want to see what you’ve got under here.” His eyes are on the action as he draws the fabric slowly upward, revealing my stomach, my ribs, and the underside of my breasts. He pauses, holding the fabric away from my skin, delaying his own gratification. Looking into my eyes, he slides his hand up until his palm grazes my nipple. It’s insignificant contact, but that’s what makes it so much more arousing. My body trembles as he draws his hand down over the same stiff nipple and then catches it between his thumb and forefinger and pinches hard.
I cry out at the pain, and he looks up at me, a wicked smirk pulling at his lips.
“Does it hurt, Goldie?” I whimper as he licks his lips. “ Does the pain feel good?
Robert pushes the camisole up to my neck, revealing my breasts and the dark pink tip of the nipple he’s abused. He bends and licks over it gently with his tongue, then draws it into his mouth and sucks hard, sending a buzz to my clit.
“Oh,” I gasp, raising my head to watch. There’s something so unbelievably sexy about watching a man suckle on my tits. He doesn’t let up, lips pursing and tongue lapping until I’m close to coming undone from that alone.
“You have a beautiful body,” he says, licking into my belly button and inhaling against my skin, trailing lower until he’s close to the waistband of my shorts. “Your skin is so flawless. I can’t wait to mark it.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask, watching as he heads to a chest under the window. He opens a large, heavy-looking drawer and searches inside. When he returns, he’s carrying two small metal items that look like clothes pegs. Mr. Bjorn rests them on the bed beside me and uses his fingers to tweak my nipples until they are sharp points, then reaches for the clamps, fixing them in place simultaneously. The chain between them is cool against my skin, and it hurts so much that I arch up off the bed and cry out. The sting is almost immediately replaced with heat that feels good. Robert watches my response, leaning over me until his face is only a couple of inches away. “Goldie, you’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He tugs at a clamp, stretching my nipple to its limit.
“Ahh,” I cry in his face, and he licks the inside of my parted lips.
“I’ve been waiting to punish a bad girl like you.” His hand trails down between the clamps so slowly, I wriggle at the tickling sensation. I want him to touch me between my legs and discover how wet I am. I want him aware of my responses and how fucking amazing it feels for me to finally experience something that has only ever been an embarrassing fantasy for me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he glances around the room again, walking back toward the chest and returning with a pair of scissors.
“What are you going to do?” I ask as images of him cutting my hair flash through my mind.
“I’m going to cut off your shorts, Goldie. I want to see your pussy, but I don’t want to untie you now that I’ve got you where I want you. I’ll replace them.”
The first cut is down the middle seam, and the cool metal of the scissors slides against the skin of my stomach, down, down with every slice until it slides over my clit. I hold totally still as he draws the ravaged pieces of cloth to the sides, exposing the soft, golden hair at the apex of my thighs. Robert’s eyes are fixed, watching as his fingers stroke through the curls, getting nearer and nearer to the seam of my pussy but never quite reaching it.
Then he picks up the scissors again and slides the blade into my pubic hair, cutting a small amount and bringing it to his nose. “So soft,” he says, inhaling. “You smell so good.”
He rests the scissors and his trophy down on the bed beside me and then slides his fingers back into my curls, grasping tightly until I have to push my hips up off the bed to handle the sting.
“I have total control over you,” he whispers menacingly. “I can do anything I want to your body, and you won’t be able to get away. ”
“No,” I said with false pain in my voice.
When he releases me, and my hips drop to the bed, I let out a sharp breath and gasp when his palm comes down against the fleshiness of my hip. “You don’t speak unless I ask you a question, Goldie. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I gasp, squirming as the sting of the slap turns into delicious, warm heat.
Robert leans over me, and tugs at the nipple clamps hard enough to make me cry out. The pain flames, but the nerve endings that burn against the metal send a pulse of pleasure directly to my clit, bringing my hips up off the bed again. “Bad girl,” he hisses and slaps the inside of my thigh. The strength of his palm pushes my legs wider and opens my wet pussy to the cold air. “You love that, don’t you?” Another quick, rough slap lands on the inside of my thigh.
I cry out, shifting beneath him, his body seeming to move ever closer to pinning me down completely. I find my hips moving toward him, the need to be filled growing louder and more impatient. My mind craves every torture this man could possibly devise—for him to whip me, chain me, flog me, hang me from the ceiling, and cane me until I sob—but my body can only imagine the raw desire of being filled by his cock. I feel it straining against my other thigh as he situates himself there, massive and hard, his fingers now sliding lightly over my wet pussy.
“Y-yes…. I love it.” I hardly feel the pain of the slap he gives me—only the great, burning beauty of the pleasure that seems to shoot straight to where I’m aching. The sensation of his fingers barely brushing over my clit is enough to send jolts of excitement up through my body, my nipples seeming to harden more inside the tight cl amps.
I watch his hand intently, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I consider all the things he will do to me. He can clamp my clit as he has my nipples, pull at the chain, and push me to the borders of agony and ecstasy. Would I want that? I’m not sure. Imagining is so different from experiencing. Maybe that’d be too far. It won’t be clear until he tries.
His hand clenches and relaxes several times, his gaze fixated between my legs. He gives a few tentative taps to my clit, working up slowly, testing my limits. When he sees that my hips only draw up further—as much as they can, anyway—he begins striking more firmly. His eyes don’t leave mine, gauging my reactions. With my lower lip held between my teeth, I give a hard nod. I want it. Whatever he has to give me, I want it.
My voice shaking, I manage to speak the half-moaned words that will set everything in motion. “It’s… it’s yours. Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours.”