Laura

 

 

 

I share his sentiment about post-coital appetite, but I’d feel more like eating if I wasn‘t in this current predicament.

I’m still naked, my center exposed, and my hands and knees tied to the bed frame behind me. My shoulders are beginning to hurt and my arms are getting heavier by the second. The shackles binding my wrists are cutting into my flesh, as I rely more and more on them. He cleaned himself up, but didn’t bother to clean his come from my face, and now it‘s slowly drying where it dripped down my neck.

Unlike me, he put some clothes back on, but only a pair of dark pants, different ones than he was wearing when we first got here. I consider it a treat, though, that he leaves his ripped chest bare for me to admire.

Since he doesn’t untie me for dinner, he has to feed me. He sits cross-legged on the floor in front of me, sharing a meal with me that is little more than a healthy snack.

“You really like sushi, don’t you?” I dare to tease him when he brings in a tray of maki rolls from a connecting room.

He chuckles, holding up another piece to my mouth for me to eat, a simple tuna and avocado roll. I notice he makes me lean forward every time he offers me a piece, never holding the sushi right up to my mouth. He makes me work for it. This is without a doubt the strangest meal I’ve ever eaten.

“I find it to be very sensuous food,” he says. “But don’t worry. Good girls get fed whatever they wish for, once we call it a night.”

“Whatever they wish for?” I ask, puzzled.

He casts me a generous smile. “Yes, whatever you wish for, doll. But whatever it is, you’ll have to earn it.”

He serves me another piece of sushi, and while I chew it, my eyes lazily wander around the room. I was so busy with everything that was going on that I never paid much attention to my surroundings. The room is unusually big for a bedroom. It offers plenty of space for the king-size bed, the dresser, and two glass-encased cabinets positioned next to a leather-upholstered bench. A gigantic X made out of wood is nailed to one of the walls.

There are three doors leading out of the room, and all of them are painted in the same red color as the walls, causing them to become indistinct, especially with the lights dimmed like they are now.

Judging by the small windows, I’d assume this room is in the basement, suggesting that we are not at the same place I met him the first time.

Maybe this is the home he has outside the city that he mentioned previously? There’s little point in asking because he obviously doesn’t want me to know too much about my whereabouts. Why else would he demand that I was blindfolded when I was brought here?

“How come you didn’t tell me?” he asks, tearing my thoughts back to the present.

Our eyes meet, and I cast him a look of bewilderment.

“Tell you what?” I ask.

“That you’re a virgin,” he says.

Both the expression on his face and his voice are impossible for me to read. I have no idea whether he’s angry at me or not.

“How… how did you know?” I stutter.

He shrugs.

“Just a good guess. Once you have been with enough women, you can tell,” he says. “I felt it when I tried to finger you, and it was confirmed by the look on your face.”

Next to the my evident embarrassment, his words cause a stinging sensation in my heart from knowing he has been with so many women before me, many who were experienced professionals, prettier and more skilled than me. How could I not feel inferior?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he repeats, hooking his index finger under my chin to lift my gaze up to meet his. I hadn’t even noticed that I had lowered my eyes.

“I was afraid,” I tell him. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore if I told you.”

His face remains neutral, no visible reaction on his handsome face. The only thing there is just the usual handsome ruggedness, topped by eyes that are almost too blue to be real.

“That’s a valid concern,” he says. “But you still should have told me.”

I nod. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have.”

His eyes lay on me for a moment, a patient smile stilling my concerns.

“How can a pretty girl like you be untouched?” he asks. “That’s what I don’t understand.”

I huff. “I didn’t say I was untouched…”

His eyebrows knit for a split second, but then just as quickly he forces his face to relax before his discontent becomes obvious. Still, it’s enough to coax a grin from my face. He doesn’t like the idea of me with other men either. The thought lightens my troubled heart.

“How old are you?”

“Why? Are you afraid I’m not legal?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Don’t flatter yourself, doll. You don’t look like a teenager, thank God.”

“I’m twenty-two,” I answer. “Old enough to do everything fun.”

“And yet you have missed out on the best thing: sex.”

I bite my lower lip, unsure how honest I can and should be with him.

“I don’t feel like I’ve missed out,” I say hesitantly. “I waited until I met the… right person.”

I’m torn between lowering my eyes away from his gaze and wanting to see his reaction to my honest words. But he doesn’t give me a lot to work with because his expression doesn’t change.

“That’ very flattering, doll,” he says eventually, and I can tell by his tone that the subject is closed.

He feeds me another sushi roll, and we eat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, the room filled with unspoken questions and answers. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know if he’s planning to punish me for not confessing upfront to being a virgin, and I don’t know if he intends to have me stay for the agreed upon time, now that he knows. And if he does want me to stay, will it influence how he’s going to treat me?

“Is that why you haven’t had sex with me yet?” I ask. I find my eyes burrowing into his in search of answers.

He shakes his head.

“No. I told you this isn’t about having a quick fuck, doll. If simply fucking you was going to be enough for me, I would have done it by now and sent you home with a sore pussy dripping with my cum.”

His filthy words echo in my head and chest, pulsating, and sending rushes of throbbing heat to my core.

I want it to happen, but I’m afraid it’s not going to.

“I’m enjoying this build-up to the moment as much as I’m going to enjoy fucking you,” he says, putting the empty tray aside and reaching forward to caress the side of my cheek. I worry about the dried come on my face, but he doesn’t seem to care one bit, his eyes locked on mine as his finger softly strokes along my jawline.

“Besides, I like the anticipation, the build-up. I’m going to destroy you once I finally stretch that tight hole open with my cock, and a part of me can’t wait, but it will have to.“

My lips part as I lean into his gentle touch, imagining what it will feel like to be taken – claimed – by him. How long will I have to wait?

“So you are going to fuck me?” I ask.

He nods.

“Yes, doll. I will fuck you until you don’t know your own name, and the fact that I’m the first one to ever do it won’t change my plans whatsoever,” he whispers, his piercing eyes blazing dark with lust. “You agreed to this. You wanted this. But don’t expect me to be gentle with you.”

I swallow hard, aware of the drenching wetness pooling between my legs. His comments are making me more excited than they are scaring me.

The way he smiles leads me to believe that he’s very much aware of the impact his words are having on me.

“Are you wet for me, doll?” he asks, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

Another wave of heat rushes to my face, causing my cheeks to blush and my mouth to snap shut.

“No answer, huh?” he says, shaking his head. “Doll, you’ll have to learn to reply to me, or else –”

“Yes,” I bring forth. “Yes, master.”

“Yes, what?”

Ugh, he’s really making me say it?

“I’m wet for you, master,” I admit, instinctively lowering my eyes to lessen my shame.

Of course, that response doesn’t satisfy him.