Chapter 37 Sweet Surrender
sweet surrender
DAPHNE
“Are you ready?”
He closes the bedroom door and sheds his t-shirt, tossing it aside. I take the time to devour him with my gaze, raking my eyes over muscle, scars, and ink. Everything about this man is intoxicating, from the indents in his hips to his broad chest, and the gold chain that hangs around his neck.
“Firecracker?” His voice comes out in that gentle purr that makes my head spin. “I asked you a question.”
“I’m ready, sir.”
Frankie strides toward the closet with confidence, opening the door and pulling out a large wooden chest.
“Come over here.”
My palms are sweaty, my feet sinking into the lush carpet with each cautious step.
I don’t know what’s in store for me, but I’m eager to find out.
When I reach him, he slowly lifts the lid on the chest, and I’m greeted with more toys than I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.
I let out a breath, trying to fully process what I’m seeing.
He could open his own sex shop with all this inventory.
There are whips, cuffs, ball gags, dildos, and vibrators galore. I don’t really know where to look.
“Jesus, do you even use all of these?” I laugh.
He shrugs.
“Call me a collector, I guess. I’ve got even more tucked away in storage that I’ve been dying to use. Most of them are still in boxes. I’ve already set one aside, so see if there’s anything else in there that catches your eye.”
“Really? I get to choose?”
Frankie slides two fingers beneath my chin, tipping my head up and staring directly into my eyes.
“Of course you get to choose. We’re equals here, remember?”
Warmth spreads across my chest and all through my body. Frankie makes me feel safe, cared for, and secure, all the things I’ve ever looked for in a relationship but never found.
Until him, or… I guess us?
But that’s not real, is it?
I stare down at the contents of the chest, instantly drawn to a piece of black fabric with a light sheen, and I can feel Frankie watching me as I pick it up.
I run my hand along the material, soft with a little bit of give, but it’s not until I come across two holes on one side that I realize what I’m looking at.
“A mask?”
“Yep. I bought that a few months ago, but I haven’t had the chance to use it.” He smirks. “You like it?”
I’ve seen those videos of guys in masks— usually in nothing but a pair of grey sweats while they talk dirty to the camera. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve gotten off to some of them after a few glasses of wine.
“Will you wear it for me tonight?”
He takes a step toward me, plucking it from my hands.
“Maybe. If you ask nicely.”
I clear my throat, trying to steady my breathing.
The thought of Frankie’s searing gaze behind the mask has me sweating bullets.
“Please.”
“You’re pretty when you beg.” Slowly, he slips the mask over his head, completing his transformation in an instant. “Now, take those clothes off.”
I feel myself shudder as I obey his instructions, slowly stripping off my tank top and leggings.
I still feel his eyes on me the whole time, raking up and down my body with an intensity that burns so bright my head starts to spin.
Once my clothes are a puddle of fabric beneath me, Frankie walks to the closet and picks out a pair of heels.
He kneels in front of me, holding them out.
“I want to see what you look like wearing only these.”
Hi, Alex, I’ll take words guaranteed to bring me to my knees for $800.
He slips them onto my feet one at a time, keeping his eyes locked onto mine, and all I see is warmth.
Desire.
Hunger.
It makes me want to dissolve into the floor.
In seconds, we’re a collision of tangled tongues and moans, but he quickly pushes me onto the mattress, and I’m suddenly swimming in a sea of soft silky sheets. Frankie makes his way back to the closet, pulling out a large bar with two cuffs on the end, along with two spools of black rope.
“This is a spreader bar.” He strides toward me, gripping it in one hand like an oversized baton. “I want those gorgeous legs spread nice and wide… and you, completely at my mercy.”
My skin tingles, my chest tightening with anticipation as I nod, a big smile spreading across my face. The idea of being laid completely bare for him, of giving up all of my power and letting him do whatever he wants...
This was exactly the distraction I needed tonight.
“Can I make a request, sir?”
“Of course.”
I breathe, my nipples pebbling as the anticipation of my words burns on my lips.
“I want you raw.”
Frankie raises a brow.
“No condoms?”
I shake my head.
“I want to feel your cum dripping down my thighs when this is over.”
He exhales, squeezing his eyes shut, and for a moment I regret saying anything.
Maybe he—
“I didn’t know it was possible for you to make me this hard,” he rasps approaching the edge of the bed. “Now, spread your legs and put your arms over your head.”
He towers over me, and I obey like the good girl I’ve become, lying spread-eagle while he binds my wrists to the bedposts. Thankfully, the ropes feel just as comfortable as the ones he used at Dominion.
“These are slipknots, and they’re easy to remove,” he informs me. “Any time you want this to end, you give me the safe word and I can untie you. Got it?”
“Got it.” I grin. “Sir.”
His eyes dance around my face, glittering with delight.
“That’s my girl.”
It’s hard to ignore the hot rush of adrenaline that shoots through me at the sound of those three words. Instead, I focus on watching him grab the spreader bar, and slipping the velcro cuffs over my ankles.
I’m completely at his mercy, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
His movements are calm and purposeful as he plucks a candle from the nightstand like he’s pulling a flower from the earth.
“This is a massage oil candle. They don’t burn quite as hot as regular ones, but you’ll still feel a sting.” He strikes a match, igniting the wick. “It melts down into an oil you can rub into the skin.”
“I’ve never played with wax before.”
I’ve also never been able to trust someone like this before, so this is two for two.
“Don’t worry,” he purrs. “I’ll take care of you.”
He carefully places it back on the nightstand, but his surprises aren’t finished, rooting through the drawer, and pulling out a tiny black cloth bag.
“And this is brand new, just for you.” He pulls out a small blue vibrator. “It’s even got a remote. Orgasm denial was on your list, right?”
I feel like I’m at an amusement park right now. Excited, scared, and slightly overstimulated in the best way possible as he holds it in his hand, waiting for me confirmation.
“Yes, sir.” I barely manage to bite back a smile. “Can I have my present now?”
“As you wish.”
The bed creaks as he climbs onto the mattress, nestling right between my thighs. The toy buzzes to life in his hand with the click of a button, and he slowly starts to glide it up and down my inner thigh.
My pussy throbs at the idea of those hands all over me. I love the way he uses them, the way they flex, the way they tug on my hair, wrap around my throat, and then always soothe me afterward.
But right now, it’s all about the vibrator. I can’t close my legs, can’t press my hands against him in a mock-protest… It turns out I can’t do anything other than roll my hips and beg.
And now I’m starving. Aching. I’ve never felt more out of control than I do right now.
“Frankie…”
His name tumbles from me, on top of a pathetic little whine, and he lets out a cruel chuckle in response, spitting on my pussy.
“Fuck, you’re greedy. You can’t wait for me to fill you up, can you?”
When he passes the toy over my clit, my back arches, and that desperate noise I was trying to keep caged comes loose. Frankie groans in reply, continuing to taunt and tease me.
“You’re already so wet.”
I’m so wound up I can barely hear his voice floating over the buzzing toy.
“Keep begging, Firecracker. I want to hear how desperate you are before I start devouring this pretty little cunt.”
I used to never feel freedom like this during sex.
It always felt like a performance, and I couldn’t let go, or ever really get lost in the pleasure.
I was too worried about the superficial bullshit: Is my hair perfectly tousled?
Are my lips pouty enough? Am I moaning the right way?
Are my tits jiggling too much? Not enough?
Does the guy care about the stretch marks on my belly, or the little rolls I get when I sit on my haunches?
“Please,” I rasp. “Please, sir. I’ll be so fucking good for you. I’ll do anything!”
But with Frankie, none of that matters. He sees every part of me and loves it.
He always has.
My eyes fill with tears just as he slides the toy right along my pussy lips. My cunt clenches around nothing, already sick of being denied, and he’s only been doing this for a minute.
“Oh, fuck!”
Frankie pushes one half of the toy inside me, and the sharp yelp that’s torn from my lips is so violent it doesn’t even sound like it belongs to me anymore. The buzzing sensation is intense, the curved tip pressing lightly against my G-spot, but still not quite enough to make me come.
What it is, is intentional.
Pure torture.
I whimper and whine, struggling against my restraints as he climbs off the bed, and turn my head just in time to see him pick up the candle once more, preparing to tip it over my naked body.
“Are you ready?”
I shiver, my body thrumming like a live wire.
“Fucking give it to me, daddy.”
His eyes light up like fireworks, and he slowly tips the candle, spilling a generous pool of wax onto my stomach. It stings so good, a swirling mix of pleasure and pain that makes my heart skip a few beats.
And combined with the vibrator?
It might just be enough.
More wax hits my skin, this time on my breasts, and my entire body erupts with goosebumps. The pain is exquisite, and an ache grows deep inside me, far deeper than the toy can reach. The one spot I know only his cock can hit.