She’s lying on her stomach for me now, naked except for her bra and panties. I positioned small pillows to be sure no pressure is on her stomach. She’s not very far along, but I didn’t want to take any risks. Her panties are lacy and white, just like I’d have imagined an innocent little thing like her would be wearing. I palm the inside of her thigh, letting the edge of my hand brush against her pussy. I’m pleased to feel heat radiating from her and a patch of wetness already soaking through the material there. Good girl.

I take my time admiring her laid out the way she is, just for me. I tried to hold back the part of me that has been screaming to fuck her since before we even left her room where she was essentially being held prisoner. I tried to wait, to give her the night she deserved, to let her get the kind of closure she should have before we take whatever this is any farther.

I couldn’t wait though.

All the self-control I’ve prided myself on for my whole life was blasted away like sand, every word from her perfect lips like a gust of sweet-smelling wind that could erode even the most solid foundation of control. I let her wrap herself around me. I drank in the heady smell of her perfume and devoured the ice-cream sweetness of her lips.

And now I’m here. Now I have her where I want her. How I want her.

I marvel at the idea that this sweet, sleek creature is carrying my baby inside her belly. The thought makes a protective urge explode within me with irrational force, like unbridled adrenaline. My girl and my baby. Right here. Right in front of me. Why would I ever let them go? Why ever risk something happening to them or coming between us?

My fingertips dig painfully into my palms but I force myself to relax, to enjoy this. No matter how fiercely I might want to hold her close, I know better than to squeeze too tight or pull to hard on the thin connection between us. She gets enough of that from her father. Something tells me the best way to keep her close it to make sure she knows she still has her freedom if she wishes it.

Better not let her know I’d follow her to the ends of the earth if she ever got away, that I’d do anything—anything—to make sure she’s mine. No, she doesn’t need to know all that. I’ll let her think she’s free to go and choose as she likes.

But I will train her as my submissive all the same, and not just because I crave the delicious taste of her submission, because I want to show her the sexual experience she deserves, the kind she can only have if she gives me everything. Everything.

My cock strains against my pants, so hard it fucking hurts. Not yet, though. Not nearly yet.

I run the palm of my hand down from the base of her neck to the small of her back, pausing just briefly before I run my touch over the swell of her wonderfully smooth and supple ass. I don’t stop there, though. I’ve never been a man to fixate all my sexual desire on something as limited as the ass or the breasts. I’m equally fascinated by every part of her from the adorably small earlobes she has to her elegant ankles. She might as well be a commissioned painting I ordered, because every last detail, down to the smallest part, is precisely how I would’ve placed it, exactly where I would’ve ordered it.

“You’re my masterpiece,” I say.

She turns her head, looking beautiful with flushed red cheeks and lips still slightly swollen and red from my kisses. “Yours, am I?”

“Completely,” I say.

She fixes her big eyes on me but says nothing. She only moans softly and arches her back, testing the strength of the restraints from time to time as I continue exploring her body, piece by piece.

I feel my restraint being chipped away every moment her eyes linger on me. Every second of exposure to her pale, perfect body is a notch in the armor I’ve put up. I need to show her what it means to be a submissive. What it really means. I’ve given her the soft introductions, but it’s time for something a little more real.

I go to the cabinet where I keep several of my toys and pull out a rabbit-skin flogger. The leather handle has a few dozen thin strips of the supple leather dangling from the end. I also grab a deer-skin flogger, which is a step up from rabbit in intensity, but still won’t be too much of a shock for her. I’ve never been turned on by severe pain, and feel that experienced hands can do plenty with the promise of pain, or at most, a slight enough sting to remind the body where the line between pleasure and pain falls.

When I walk back toward her, I see she’s watching me with nervous eyes.

“Easy,” I say, stroking her back. “You will enjoy this. Trust me.”

She nods tightly, but still looks frightened.

“Anabella,” I say firmly. “I need to know that you trust me. Give me your trust, and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I need to know I have it.”

She sucks in a breath through her nose and then nods again. “I trust you,” she whispers.

“And remember, once we begin, the only word with any real power here is ‘red.’ Say the word, and it all stops. Nothing else matters. Understand?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Good. Good.” I let the tips of the rabbit-skin leather dangle between her shoulder blades and drag them slowly down her spine in a way I know will send chills echoing across her body. “You should know the purpose of all this,” I say softly, knowing the rough texture of my voice will lull her into a sensual kind of trance, but also needing her to understand. It’s not enough that she knows it feels good. Understanding why it feels good will enhance it even more, it will help her see how she should relax her thoughts and let go. “Our bodies have learned to adapt to most sensations if they go on long enough, it’s why you don’t notice your own house smells a certain way until you leave and come back.”

I flip the flogger around in my hand and begin rubbing the handle, which is about as long as my hand and as wide as two fingers, between her legs. She lets out a beautiful whimpering sound and her body tightens before it relaxes again.

“There are some sensations we don’t get used to. Pain, for instance, never seems to dull until the injury is healed. It’s why even a simple headache can seem so debilitating. Our body never shuts down those pain receptors until the problem is fixed,” I say, angling the flogger so that the first inch of it’s length presses against her entrance. I feel my body tense with nearly uncontrollable sexual need when I feel the slight resistance of her pussy give way and allow the flogger to slide inside her.

She gasps now with parted lips and closed eyes.

“Our bodies can dull our perception of pleasure if it goes on long enough. You’ll still cum and it will still feel good, but you won’t realize the intensity has gradually faded. But there’s a way to counteract it. Pain and pleasure are opposite ends of a spectrum, and introducing pain, even a slight amount, resets your body’s tolerance.”

I slide the flogger out of her and flip it around so my grip is on the handle again. I bring it up just a foot or two above her shoulder blades and bring it down in a smooth, unhurried motion. I’m careful to avoid the too-sensitive skin of her neck and the area just below her ribs where the kidneys are virtually unprotected by anything but skin, and the blow lands exactly where I aimed, making her jump and gasp with surprise.

Pain tolerance can vary wildly from individual to individual, but even someone who hardly tolerates pain would be exaggerating to say rabbit skin hurts. The material is too soft and light to do much more than provide a soft thud and very faint sting. The purpose of this flogger is to introduce her to it without frightening her.

She seems to relax a little once her brain registers that it didn’t actually hurt.

“I’ll never do anything to bruise or scar you, little pet. You’re too precious for that. Only superficial pain. Only as much as it takes to give you the most incredible orgasms you’ve ever had.”

She chews her lip, opening her eyes again to look up at me.

“If my father ever knew about any of this…” she says.

“Tonight isn’t about any of that, Ana. It’s about you being the mother of my child and me needing to give you a well-deserved reward. In the form of a punishment,” I add with a wry twist of my lips.

She laughs throatily. “Oh, I see. So none of this is about your enjoyment? Just mine?”

I feel the urge to grin, but I suppress it. It’s impossible to ignore the atmosphere of this place, of times like this. In here, I’m her Dom. There are no doubts or questions of what people will think. There’s only the two of us, only my command and the tension of waiting to see if she’ll obey or if she’ll need to be persuaded to obey. That’s the game. That’s everything in here. All the shit with her father and our families is for other times.

“I enjoy,” I say slowly as I switch to the deer-skin flogger. I raise it and bring it down on her ass this time, careful not to let the tips of the material extend past her hip where they would wrap around with painful speed. “When my submissive submits,” I finish.

I can see the effect my words have on her, like fingers reaching inside her mind and massaging away the worries and everything else but this moment.

“Now,” I say. “We remind your body how sweet pleasure is after the pain.” I set the flogger down on the edge of the table and bend to kiss the place where her skin is a faint shade of red on her ass. I palm the back of her thigh and let my fingers glide against her slickness, wanting nothing more than to plunge my cock into her right here and now.

Once I’ve given her nearly a minute of kisses and the deliberate movement of my fingers between her legs, I pull back and grab the flogger again, fingers still wet with her excitement. I work my way across her body, flogging her two or three times between breaks for soothing kisses and caresses. I watch her closely. I don’t want her to ignore discomfort or pain because she’s trying to impress me or please me.

I think there’s very little chance of that based on the way she reacts to the flogger. Each brush of the leather strips against her back, ass, thighs, and calves makes her wriggle and sigh, back arching and fingers tightening. Even with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, I watch her face for any of the usual warning signs—a frown, grimace, the way eyebrows pull down when someone is frightened.

“Why does it feel so good?” she asks breathlessly.

“The same reason a cold shower feels good after exercise. Push the body too far from neutral and it will crave balance. But pain isn’t the only tool we can use. Pain is the opposite of pleasure,” I say, emphasizing my point by giving her a quick slap from the flogger on her ass and following it with a soft, warm kiss to melt away the sting. “And release is the opposite of restraint.” I tug on the straps holding her tightly to the table. “Defiance opposes submission…”

“And…” she says slowly.

“And when you cum, it’s going to feel like a nuclear bomb going off inside you because we’re going to use all of that.”

She looks like she wants to say something, but decides against it.

“Now,” I say. “There’s one simple rule that will be very important in a few moments. You must not cum. I demand that you stop yourself from cumming at all costs. If I see signs that you’re getting close to climax, I will punish you. Have I made myself clear?”

She hesitates, but finally nods.

I push the floggers off the table and remove her straps so I can reposition her to her back. I tighten the restraints around her again, making sure she has enough slack around her ankles to let me move her legs and reposition them as I need, but I leave them tight around her wrists so her arms are forced above her head. I enjoy every second of the delay, like fasting before eating the most luxurious meal of my life. Every moment I delay will only make the prize that much sweeter.

I slip out of the last of my clothes and climb on top of her, enjoying the way her eyes can’t seem to decide which part of me they want to take in first, or which part they want to stare at the longest.

I grip the base of my cock and spread her slickness from her entrance to her clit with the head of my cock, basking at how amazingly warm she is. In my mind, I map out the next few minutes. I plan how I’m going to torture and tease her with the promise of my cock until she bucks against her restraints and begs me for it. I want to show her how powerless she is, to drive home how much control I have and how little she has.

But the heat of her entrance and the look of pure desire on her face undoes me. In an instant, my hardened self-discipline that I’ve spent years perfecting comes apart, and even a gun to my head couldn’t stop me from guiding my cock into her wet warmth.

I groan with relief to be inside her, to feel the perfect tightness of her walls clenched around me like her pussy has a stranglehold on me, as reluctant to let me go as I am to ever stop fucking this perfect, innocent girl.

I’ve always prided myself on my control. Sex is not an emotional ride for me. Not some reckless explosion where I let pleasure consume my senses. It has always been more controlled than that. More precise. Like a perfectly choreographed dance that I could enjoy the complexity of, albeit with an emotional distance that always left me feeling detached.

Ana wrestles that control from me effortlessly. All it takes is seeing her bare body squirming beneath me, feeling the wet slickness of her arousal heating my cock and listening to the sound of the whimpering moans spilling from her parted lips. In an instant, I’m lost. I grip the table beneath her and fuck without restraint for the first time in my life. I lose sight of the greater picture, the delicate play of teasing out more and more pleasure like the maestro of a symphony and instead I just let my body drive me forward.

I let each thrust into her perfect tightness be its own reward. I drink in all the signs of her pleasure she gives me. Erect nipples. Flushed cheeks. The taut muscles of her thin arms as she grips the chains above her wrists and pulls against them.

We don’t need games. We don’t need complex.

All I need is her.

The realization slams into me with the force of a sledgehammer as my orgasm comes. “Cum, now,” I growl suddenly, only half-remembering I had planned to draw this out.

I grunt with the power of it, feeling my cock twitch with each release of cum, getting off on the thought of filling her with my seed and the thought that she’s letting me.

There’s no time for consequences. No time for worries or responsibilities.

All that matters is the next move, the next bit of sensation.

She relaxes against the table, still shivering from her own climax and looking even more beautiful than she has any right to while she’s beaded with sweat and exhausted.

“That was…” she breathes, but then she lets her head lull to the side, as if she can’t settle on the proper word.

“That was fucking,” I grin. “The kind of fucking I didn’t think I was capable of.”

“That makes two of us,” she laughs.

I kiss her then, and I feel a pang of fear mingling with the aftershocks of my orgasm, because I realize then that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for this girl. For my little pet.