Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Beg For It 1) - Page 48

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I walked down the hallway to my office, entered and sat down in my large, wooden desk chair, drink in hand. I placed one last thing for her on the wide, flat, empty surface. Then I waited for her to come to me.

Tonight would be her introduction to submissive play. I’d make her work for me and I’d discipline her. It would require a lot of restraint from me. I’d had many years to cultivate my cravings, and now they howled to be let out. But I needed to hold back. I’d always had to hold back with Kara. All those long, torturous months back when we’d first met. All of the intervening years.

Tonight would be tame, a test to see how she responded. I’d see if I couldn’t make her yearn to serve me. I had a feeling I could make Kara discover a craving she never knew she had. But I needed to build things slowly. If I tended the fire in her, stoked it so her pleasure overcame any shyness or reservations, I bet by the end of the night I’d have her begging for my discipline. Then we’d have the whole week together to explore and explode.

Shy, moving slowly, she finally emerged. I was glad I was sitting down. I swallowed but remained seated, surveying her intently as she approached.

She wore stiletto heels and sheer black stockings that ended in a band mid-thigh. Small fasteners connected a garter belt to a short, sheer black skirt with a lacy frill along the edge. Could it be called a skirt when it just skimmed the edge of her pussy? I could see her sex outlined through the lace, black in a g-string thong underneath. The sheer, demi-cup bra revealed so much of the swell of her breasts, pushing them up and out but still covering the tips of her nipples with an inch of lace.

Hesitant, yes, but I could see her sensuality in the way she moved, the slightly languorous way she placed one foot in front of the other in those heels. The way she held her shoulders back, erect posture for me, giving me the full display I desired. Little white satin bows flitted along the tops of the stockings, the edges of the skirt, the bottom of the bra. They gave the outfit the coquettish vibe of a French maid without going over-the-top Halloween costume. I already knew the bow I liked the most: the one in back of the bra I could use to take it off.

But not yet. First, play time.

She stood before me, her long blonde hair drawn up into a neat high ponytail, just like I’d instructed. She looked to the side, flushing pink.

I scrutinized her from top to bottom as if she’d come in for a job interview with a tough, demanding boss. The skirt rested low on her hips. She started to fidget with it as if embarrassed by how little it covered, trying to pull it down.

“Stand still,” I commanded. I didn’t want her covering herself up. That wasn’t in the cards tonight.

She pouted slightly, but brought her hands to her sides, standing back at the ready.

Sitting in my chair, drink in hand, I nodded at my desk in front of me. The surface lay bare except for a feather duster.

“Pick it up,” I ordered.

“The duster?” she asked, hesitant.


She hurried to grab it. Clearly awkward, she stood pressing it to her thigh, almost hiding it behind her leg. Like if she did I couldn’t see it.

“Start over here.” I pointed to some built-in shelves by my side, as if giving orders to new help.

Kara looked at me, unsure. I could tell she hadn’t done any role-play before. I was happy to give her instructions, but I was a strict teacher with high expectations.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I warned her.

Not meeting my eyes, she took a few steps over to the shelving. Half-hearted, she lifted the duster up and moved it around an edge.

That wouldn’t do.

“Do you see this?” I swiftly stepped in front of her, ran my index finger across a low shelf and held it up to her face, close. “Filthy,” I said, low and husky. Her eyes flicked up to meet my own, nervous. “You’re going to need to bend down and really get in there.” I pointed down low.

She looked where I directed her, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Then something seemed to click. She stopped doubting and gave herself over to it. She took a small step forward and slowly, deliberately placed one heel to the side, then the other about three feet away. Nice. I liked seeing her legs spread. And then, like something out of my fantasies, she slowly arched the small of her back, lifting up her perfectly rounded ass, and lowered herself down to the shelf I’d told her to clean.

I took a sip from my drink and watched her. Straight, long legs like a dancer, jacked up on those heels. She kept her back straight, doing all of the bending at her hips. The position forced her ass up high, on display, perfect for me to see everything.

I walked around slowly, stalking her, stopping right in back. Legs spread, the lace skirt ended high up on her crack, barely covering her bottom. She still wore her g-string thong, the V of satin at the top visible beneath the lace. Putting my drink down on the bar, I focused all of my attention on her. Down between the swell of her ass cheeks, I could see the plump outline of her pussy, so close to me and yet still covered.

She moved her feather duster along the shelf, giving each inch full attention. I could see her breath coming fast, not quite panting yet but excited, the cool air against her ass cheeks, heat building in her sex. Vividly, I pictured bringing a finger up between her legs and running it slowly down that patch of fabric, heightening the sensation of the silk against her shaved slit. My cock pressed against my jeans. But I wouldn’t touch her, not yet.

As if she could feel the intensity of my gaze, she squirmed a bit, tilting her butt slightly away from me. Distracted, she stopped dusting.

With a sharp smack, I spanked her bare bottom. Not too hard, but I had the element of surprise. She gasped, her free hand grasping the edge of the shelf tight.

“Keep working,” I ordered her, gruff.

She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Taking her punishment, she brought her pink bottom back into position, thrust out for me to do what I wanted. The feather duster started moving again, bit by bit.

“Good,” I praised her, stroking just one finger along her inner thigh. “I need you to hold still and work for me.” I could feel her quivering, but she kept her position, ass up, legs spread, head and shoulders down.

I traced her cheeks as she kept dusting. Lightly caressing her, up along the edges of her tiny skirt, I reminded her how much she exposed. I ran my fingers down her inner thigh, then up again, so close to her sex, but not touching. Not even grazing her. But I could feel it in her breathing, see it in the way she held herself, so tense, so coiled. She craved my touch.

One hand resting on her ass cheek, I angled her up slightly. Finally, slowly, deliberately, I brought a finger between her legs and up against her pussy. I pressed the fabric into her folds. Wet for me. I hissed in approval. She gave a small moan in response and pressed back against my finger.

“Keep working,” I reminded her. She stilled, working hard to restrain herself. Then she moved the duster again as she’d been told. Still separated by a strip of silk, I kept my finger on her throbbing slit, moving so gently, so leisurely, perusing her folds. I’d graze her clit, tease it for a moment, then leave it.

“Do you remember, Kara?” I began in a low voice as I stroked her. “Back when I first met you. Those summers I worked at your ranch?”

“Yes.” The ache in her moaned response made me hard as a rock. I loved seeing her bent over for me, doing as I told her.

“Remember how you used to tease me? You’d strut around the ranch in miniskirts.”

“No, I didn’t tease!” She looked around at me, wide-eyed, innocent.

I gave her a sharp spank. Her eyes closed with the intensity of my touch.

“You loved it,” I corrected her, cutting off her weak protest, then continued to stroke her. “You wore tank tops so tight I could see every inch of your tits. Daisy Dukes cut up to here.” I traced a line along the swell of her cheek and she moaned, pushing her ass toward my hand. “I couldn’t touch you the

n. I could look, but I couldn’t do this.”

In a swift, rough motion I ripped off her g-string and threw it to the side. I knelt now, bringing my face exactly level with her sex. Her breath became a pant. I brought my hands to the base of her ass, thumbs wrapped under inside her inner thighs. My large, insistent fingers spread her even more open for me. She complied, nudging her feet further apart.

I brought a worshipping finger to her wet, swollen folds. “I used to watch you, Kara, and wonder if you were wet like this for me.”

“Yes, Declan,” she moaned.

Soaked in her juices, I brought my finger to my mouth to taste. Salty and sweet, just like her. I needed more. “This is what I wanted to do to you.”

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
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