Sean watched her as she acclimated to this new sensation. “We didn’t discuss cold play. Now is the time to tell me if it’s one of your limits.”
Marcella shook her head. “No, Master. I like cold play.”
“You and your British bands.” He grinned. “I’ll have to take you to a concert the next time we’re in England.”
She started at the playfulness of his tone. Wasn’t he about to punish her? Shouldn’t he be a little more upset that she’d disobeyed him by coming without permission?
His knees crackled as he stood. “Kneel up, slave. Careful with that glass phallus. It’s heavy. If you let it fall out, you’ll earn another punishment.”
A cold, hard dildo delivered punishment? Marcella wanted to laugh at his attempt. Obviously he took her admittance of disliking too much pain as reason to not use some of the harsher methods of punishment. She felt a little cheated. As a submissive, she craved knowing her place. She craved knowing the certainty of punishment as a response to disobeying.
Then she rose to her knees. Gravity took over, fighting her for possession of the heavy, slippery dildo. She clenched with all her might to keep it from sliding out and reveled in the level of Sean’s insidiousness. Only the most creative doms administered punishments that were also challenges.
He’d moved behind her while she fought to obey his orders. Her fevered pussy quivered against the coolness and relaxed, making her fight that much harder not to lose the dildo.
A tug, and he removed two anal beads in quick succession. She gasped at the heady stimulation and the way it messed with her ability to control her vaginal muscles. Less than thirty seconds into her punishment and she wanted to scream at the impossibility of it all.
He pushed one bead back in. She whimpered a protest and received a stinging smack on her ass for it.
“I will not countenance a disobedient slave, Cella. Your body is mine to tease and torture, to please and pleasure as I see fit.” He delivered a smack to the other cheek, and she struggled to keep any sounds muffled.
Wetness bloomed once again, fighting the cold in her pussy, but he didn’t continue with his erotic spanking. He moved around to face her. She eyed the huge bulge in his jeans. Saliva pooled on her tongue.
“Hands behind your back, naughty Cella.” She immediately complied, though her arms felt heavy and unfamiliar. “How beautiful you are. Pink cheeks everywhere. A nice, rosy blush staining your chest. That luscious pussy working so hard to please me.”
With one finger, he flicked open the button on his fly. Next he drew down the zipper. If her pussy could whimper, it would have. As it was, it wept for what it wanted so badly. She knew he would deny her this reward for a while longer. Even if she hadn’t disobeyed, he wouldn’t have fucked her until he’d finished toying with her.
His open jeans only revealed a similar bulge in his black briefs. Once before, Marcella had happened upon him wearing only underwear. He had been standing in front of his closet door talking on his cell. A few minutes before, he had texted her with an order to hurry to his room with his itinerary. He had an important meeting and had awoken late, which meant they had to shuffle his other appointments. One sight of the hard muscles cording his legs and defining his ass, clearly visible through the tight briefs, had sent moisture pooling between her legs. She had been on the job for exactly one week.
The look of shock on her face must have recalled him to his state of undress. He had ended his call and hurriedly remedied the situation. Though she couldn’t concentrate with him not dressed, she’d lamented the loss of such a sexy picture. She’d held on to the image and used it to fuel more than one masturbatory fantasy.
But now all professional courtesies had been suspended. He shoved his jeans and briefs down. His cock tangled in the fabric. Marcella envied the hand that reached in to free his erection, but that envy melted away once she came face-to-face with his cock. Though average in length, the thickness came as a surprise. Sean’s lean build didn’t lead her to imagine such girth.
He followed the path of her tongue, tracing his cockhead along her newly wet mouth. She longed to taste him, but she knew better than to open and take him inside. If she did that, he would deny her this pleasure on principle.
No hesitation on her part. “Master, please may I suck your cock?”
“Open your mouth, Cella. You’ll take me inside; then we’ll see whether or not you get to suck.”
She read the subtext. Her mouth was merely a vessel. She couldn’t take an active role until he gave permission. Obediently, eagerly, she opened her mouth and relaxed her jaw. He eased the tip inside and pulled back. She barely got a taste.