31 Lindsey
Lindsey
“C-CRAWL, SIR?” I FUMBLE over my words.
He lifts a dark eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
The vibrations against my clit pulse, and I shake my head.
It’s not a problem per se, but it is embarrassing.
I know that’s kind of the point, and while I said it interested me on my questionnaire, I don’t need to remember that to know it excites me.
The wetness that floods my underwear is proof of that.
I’ve just never done it before or ever thought I’d hear a man say those words to me.
“No, Sir,” I say.
“Then don’t make me ask again.”
The force of his words clicks something into place in my brain, and I push my chair back from the table. My knees touch the hardwood floor, and I stifle a groan. This position lightens the vibrations against my clit but somehow makes them ten times more intense.
I inhale and place my hands on the ground. My dress is short, so it no longer covers my ass, and the air of the cabin brushes against the backs of my thighs and my heated sex. It’s a reminder that I’m about to crawl to a man.
Deeper heat pools in my belly, and my nipples are painfully hard like they always are around Dane. I don’t lift my gaze, knowing if I look at him, the rational side of my brain may tell me to stop. But I don’t want to stop. I want this; I want to please him.
I put one hand forward and begin to crawl the short distance to him. It only takes me a few seconds, but in those seconds, I take another inhale and exhale, allowing myself to sink into the feeling of surrender.
When I’m in front of his spread legs, I stop, and he reaches out and lifts my chin with his pointer finger. Our eyes connect, and all my feelings of embarrassment and humiliation go away when I see the approval in his gaze.
“Such a pretty thing when you submit. Do you want to continue?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He strokes my chin before he pulls his hand back to his knee. “Kneel in the position I showed you, eyes on me.”
I sit back on my haunches, spreading my knees and placing my palms open on top of them. The vibrations from the toy ebb and flow against me, but he’s turned it to the lowest setting so I’m able to keep my focus on him.
Dane’s hand reaches out again, and I think he’s going to touch my chin, but instead, he takes hold of the wave necklace I’m wearing.
He tugs on it, not hard enough to break it but enough that the delicate chain bites into my skin.
His eyes simmer, and whatever he’s thinking is something he clearly likes, because his breathing turns heavier.
I want to know what it is, but it’s not my turn to speak. Like he said, I’m on his clock now.
He drops the chain a moment later. “Undo your halter.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I knew when I came here that there was a strong potential for getting naked. It’s why I scrubbed and shaved everything down. But now…now, it’s real. He’s here, I’m on my knees in front of him, and he’s going to see my body for the first time.
Dane must see my hesitation, because his gaze softens. “Those tight little nipples have been taunting me since the first day we met.” His eyes trail down to my chest. “Put me out of my misery, and let me see the beautiful tits that belong to me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and lift up my hands. If I hesitate any longer, I may chicken out, and I don’t want to. I want to be good for him. I reach behind my neck and quickly untie the knot of the halter.
The top of my dress falls, pooling at mid-waist. The cooler air brushes across my already tight nipples, turning them into hard buds that hurt.
“Good girl,” Dane praises. “Now take a breath for me.” I do as he asks, and my shoulders ease. “That’s it, you’re doing so well.”
My muscles relax further, and after another breath, I almost forget I’m nearly naked and kneeling in front of the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
A man who’s chosen me. A man who’s also chosen me to be the first one to be in his space.
The man who, by his words and actions, has told me we’re exclusive—at least intimately.
The thought gives me a bit of confidence, and my chest pushes out as if I’m offering my breasts to him. In a way, I am. Not just this part of me, but everything. Mind and body.
“Can I touch you?” he asks.
“Please, Sir.”
Dane chuckles, and my cheeks warm at how pathetic that sounded.
He leans forward in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.
His fingers brush my hair back then ghost down my neck.
Goose bumps break out over my flesh, and he traces them down until he’s brushing the crest of one mound.
Air gets trapped in my lungs as his fingers smooth over my nipple, this time with no fabric between us.
He takes the hard bud between his fingers and pinches, and the sensation of it, mixed with the low vibrations against my clit, have me crying out.
“So responsive,” he says. He pinches again then brings his other hand to join, both hands cupping and teasing my breasts now. “Does this feel good, baby?”
He pinches both nipples at the same time, and the bite of pain floods my pussy with arousal. “Yes, Sir!”
“Hmm, I love how you fit in my hands, how warm you are, how sensitive. I have no doubt I could make you come from playing with your tits alone.” He pinches again. “I bet your cunt is wet for me, huh?”
“Yours,” I whisper.
Dane stops his teasing, hands stilling on my chest. “Yours, what?” he asks.
“Your cunt is wet, Sir.”
A deep growl rumbles from his chest, and his eyes turn so dark, I wonder if he’s possessed.
His touch moves from my chest, but before I can miss the warmth, he shifts to the edge of his chair, and his hands dive into my hair.
Then his lips hover over mine, and the way he’s breathing makes me think he’s not in control of himself.
He presses his forehead against mine, and our noses bump, our breath mingling together. “I was going to save the reward of my mouth for later, but you deserve a kiss for knowing what’s mine.”
Dane’s fingers dig into my skull, and I’m overtaken by his scent of cedar and spicy vanilla mixed with the spices of dinner clinging to our bodies. His lips ghost over mine as if he’s asking me for permission, but he already has it.
“Green,” I whisper.
His fingers tug me the rest of the way in, and my hands grip his shins so I don’t fall over from the force of his kiss. I don’t have time to think if that’s going against the rules because, in the next moment, his lips crush to mine.
I’ve had a few first kisses, and all of them were tentative, sweet. Two people attempting to figure out each other for the first time. But there is nothing tentative or sweet about Sir’s kiss.
He consumes me, his beard tickling my skin.
I gasp, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.
His groan vacillates through my body, the sensations of it mixing with the vibrations against my clit.
His fingers in my hair attempt to tug me closer, but there’s nowhere to go. Our mouths are fused together.
He tastes like wine and lemon, and the heat of his tongue and the strong grip of his hands nearly send me over the edge.
My body tenses, but Dane keeps going, the fabric of his shirt brushing against my nipples as he massages his tongue against mine and kisses me until there’s no air left in my lungs.
My clit throbs as he pulls back and sucks on my lower lip; I take in a short breath of air and cry out.
My body starts to crest, but a sharp tug on my hair stops my orgasm from happening, and I gasp.
Sir’s low chuckle is akin to sinister as he pulls away from me, hands still gripping my hair so my head tips back from the tension.
His lips are red and puffy from our kiss and the stain of my pink lipstick.
He looks good, like I’ve claimed him. But I can’t focus on that, because he’s smirking like the devil, and my body is trembling with the denial of my release.
“Bad girl. My reward didn’t include permission to come.” He releases my hair and sits back. I miss the heat of his body, but I can still taste him on my tongue. He continues to grin as he adjusts the roll of his sleeves, the veins of his forearms somehow more prominent.
The vibrations on my clit haven’t ceased, but I do my best to ignore them. He keeps his eyes on me and reaches his left hand into his pocket, pulling out a chain. He holds it up for me to see, and it looks like two clamps on the ends of one long chain.
“These are nipple clamps. Have you ever tried them before?”
“No, Sir.”
He sits forward again, his rough fingers ghosting over my pointed nipples. “It’s going to hurt, but I think you’ll like the pain. Are you willing to try?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I trust you.”
His eyes soften. “Good. Now arch your chest forward, and put your hands back on your knees, palms up.”
My fingers are still gripping his shins, and my skin prickles with embarrassment.
He smiles at me knowingly, and I do as he asked.
When I’m in position, he pinches one nipple, placing the clamp on before doing the other.
The chain connecting them hangs down, the light weight adding to the subtle pinch.
It’s not comfortable, but I also don’t hate it.
“Green, yellow, red?” he asks.
My nipples throb, but so does my clit. “Green, Sir.”
Dane tugs on the chain, and I gasp from the sharp sting.
He grins and does it again before sitting back, his hungry gaze taking in my half-clothed, kneeling form.
I’m sure my hair is a mess, and my lipstick is gone or smeared, but with the way he’s eating me up, I don’t care.
His gaze is satisfied, and there’s no missing the massive bulge that presses against the zipper of his jeans.
Another moment under his stare passes before he stands.
He looms over me, his presence dominating.
I fight the natural urge to look at the ground, because he didn’t tell me to look down.
I also fight the flash of disappointment, because I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping he’d make good on his threat to use my smart mouth.
But I’m putting my trust in him and letting him lead.
Dane takes a moment and clears his food and glass from the head of the table so they’re out of the way before holding out his hand to me. “Stand up.”
His command is strong and gives no room to argue. Not that I would.
I put my hand in his, grateful for the help. Once I’m up, the toy in my underwear presses more firmly against my sensitive core, and I grit my teeth so I don’t come. His smile is knowing, and I can see he revels in my struggle.
“Bend over the table, Lindsey.”
My lips part to argue, but his stern glare stops me. I fight another wave of embarrassment and do as he asks.
“That’s it,” he says. “Chest flat, arms out, and press your palms against the surface by your head.”
The cool wood makes me shiver, and the chain on the clamps bangs against the table. When my nipples press to the surface, it’s not comfortable, and the clamps bite into my skin. I turn my head so my cheek is also against the table and I can see Dane.
He runs his hand down my back in a way that feels like praise, then he walks around me and starts to shift my body into the exact position he wants, moving my hands wider.
Once he’s done, he stands behind me. His feet gently kick at mine, forcing me to spread my legs slightly apart.
I would have thought something like this would feel clinical, but all I am is excited.
The humiliation of it is turning me on in ways I can’t explain.
A second later, he rucks the bottom of my dress up around my midsection, completely exposing my butt and the pair of yellow, high-waisted lace underwear I’m wearing to him.
They’ve ridden up, and the cheeks of my ass are exposed.
When I shift under his gaze, the movement reminds me that my nipples are clamped and pressed into the table.
Dane remains behind me, and while I can see his hair and parts of his body, I can’t see his hands.
I know where they are a moment later, though, because he ghosts his fingers over my now-trembling thighs.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, but his touch feels so incredibly good, and I know I’m beginning to crave it like an addict.
I want him all over; I want to feel his chest against my back as he slides his dick inside me for the first time.
My hips shift against the edge of the table as if they’re chasing friction, and a gentle slap against my ass stops my movement.
Oh my god, he spanked me.
“Such a needy little brat,” Sir tsks. “Did I say you could move?”
“No, Sir.”
Sir isn’t touching my body. In fact, he’s not moving at all. If I was blindfolded, I would have thought he’d left the room. But just when I’m about to beg for a touch, any kind, his fingers ghost over the band of my underwear.
He gives me space to tell him to stop, but I don’t. His fingers curl under the elastic and he pulls them down. The toy drops away with them, but he must catch it, because I don’t hear it hit the ground.
He works the wet lace down, stretching them over my parted legs, but when he gets to my knees, he leaves them there, trapping me with the tightly drawn fabric.
He moves again and steps into view, placing the toy that was just on my pussy near my face.
It’s no longer buzzing, but it’s glistening, and I understand this is a way to show me he’s in control, that what’s happening to my body is because of him.
“Are you ready for your punishment?”
My focus moves from the toy to my Sir’s heated gaze. “Will it hurt, Sir?”
He comes closer to me, his fingers tracing down my cheek. “It will.” My body shivers, and his thumb shifts to press against my lower lip until it slips against my tongue, the salty taste of his skin warming my taste buds. “But you want it to hurt, don’t you, baby?”
My fantasies of him spanking me have filled my mind since before the idea of us ever being intimate became a possibility. He removes his thumb so I can speak. “Yes, Sir. I want it to hurt.”
“We’ll start easy. Ten spanks, and I want you to count each one. Don’t be afraid to use your traffic colors—I need you to be honest with me if it’s too much. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s my girl.” He strokes my cheek then holds out his palm. “Now kiss my hand, and tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to teach my smart-mouthed girl a lesson.”
I kiss his palm without hesitation and respond, “I want your hand, Sir. Please, teach me a lesson.”
His rumbling hum of pleasure fills the space before he steps back to begin.