I leave her standing there and walk to where I store my toys in a massive antique wardrobe. I take my time considering my choices. As if I haven’t played this scene out a dozen times in my mind before contacting Hades.
Anticipation is half the battle. It softens the submissive, primes them to be in the right headspace for what comes next. I bypass the rainbow of strap-ons hanging in a precise row and snag a silver chain with three clasps on it. I run it over my fingers as I walk back to Aurora, letting her get a good look at it.
I press my free hand to the small of her back to keep her from retreating and bend down to take one nipple into my mouth. Her shocked gasp pleases me as much as the fact that I finally, finally, have my mouth on her again. This time, she isn’t in control like she was at the virginity auction awhile back, sliding her fingers into my mouth in front of a room full of people and retreating before I was anywhere near satisfied.
This isn’t required, not really, not when she has her nipples pierced now. I don’t care. I want to taste her, so I do it. First one breast and then the other. I could spend hours playing with her breasts, but I ignore the temptation and force myself to move to the next step. I fasten the nipple clamps, one after another. “Too tight?”
“It’s fine,” she snarls.
“Mmm.” The thin chain pulls at the clamps, weighing them down a little, adding to the sensation. I sink to my knees and give her an arch look. “Spread your thighs.”
She considers disobeying. I can see the conflict written across her pretty features, the desire to submit coming up against her perverse need to fight me every step of the way. Desire wins out, like I suspected it would. Slowly, oh, so slowly, she spreads her thighs.
Like many of the submissives in the Underworld, she’s chosen to go completely bare down here. Her clit doesn’t technically need the same treatment I gave her nipples, not when she’s so blatantly turned on that she’s practically dripping down her thighs. This woman might act like she loathes me, but she’s getting off on what I’m doing all the same.
I part her pussy. She’s so fucking soft, so hot and wet, I almost forego my plans for the night and just spend the next few hours tonguing her until I’m satisfied. “The lady protests, but her pussy likes me just fine.” I fasten the clamp around her clit before she can come up with a response.
As I suspected, the picture she creates is perfect. The chain shakes a little with every breath she takes, glinting prettily. I push to my feet and move back to the wardrobe. Two weeks is a small eternity yet nowhere near long enough to get through everything I want to play out with her.
For our first night, I want to make an impression, but I don’t want to do anything that will bruise her enough to hamper future scenes. With that in mind, I pick a flogger on the lighter end of the scale.
I stride back to her and give her breasts a light flick with it. She jerks back and then moans when the chain pulls at both nipples and her clit. I consider her. “I know you like pain. Will you come from that alone?” I motion to the chain and clamps.
Her expression takes on a mutinous cast, but she finally says, “Possibly, Mistress.”
Oh, I like it when she calls me Mistress. I like it a lot. Far too much to comment on. “If you get close, tell me.”
She glares. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Your words are correct. Your attitude isn’t.” I shake my head slowly, as if I’m not thrilled down to my very core at the challenge. “Don’t disappoint me.” Without another word, I move to her back. I don’t give her a chance to brace for the first strike. I started a mental timer the moment I cuffed her hands over her head. Even with her feet touching the ground, there’s only so long a person should be bound like that. Aurora’s stubborn. I honestly don’t know if I can break through the first barrier of her attitude before it’s time to end the scene.
I’m going to try.
I get a good rhythm going, working across her back in uneven pacing so she can’t anticipate where the next strike will come from. Before too long, she’s whimpering and her hands are grasping at air above the cuffs. By the time my arm begins to ache, she’s arching back into every strike. I consider continuing, but ultimately there simply isn’t enough time. She may see tonight as a single scene, but I know better. This entire fourteen days is a scene, and it must be played out to perfection.