Atop a Throne

seeking temperance

Wrists bound together behind my back, I kneel and wait. With head bowed, I find myself sinking languidly into stillness; overcome with an unerring sense of contentment in being good for him, in fulfilling my purpose.

The groan of a doorknob being turned breaks the extended silence, followed by slow, deliberate footsteps and the scraping of furniture being shifted behind me. I long to look up, to see him, but I force my eyes to remain downcast.

Waiting, patiently waiting, my anticipation grows. His unmoving presence is so palpable, so inescapable and I can't withstand the temptation; I rub my thighs together seeking relief, relishing in the whisper of friction, and my breath hitches audibly.

"

Come here

", he orders immediately, his voice resonating through the room, fracturing the heady tension.

heeding the call

Rising unsteadily, I turn to find him seated in a chair a few paces behind me, leaning slightly against the backrest with his feet planted widely. I cautiously observe his demeanour as I approach, noting the self-assured composure reflected in his stance.

His eyes roam my bare form with a sharp, predatory gaze and I steel myself against the instinctive urge to hide from its intensity. Capturing my focus, he glances down pointedly before looking up at me once again, arching an eyebrow. His instructions are clear and I eagerly comply, approaching him and climbing onto his lap.

Straddling his thighs, I hesitantly settle and find myself the subject of further, exacting scrutiny. Unhurried, he grips the flesh of my backside, coaxing me to rest fully against him. I whimper with the effort of remaining still, and of not chasing the pleasure within reach.

He leisurely traces a line down the length of my torso, meandering off course to brush teasingly at my breasts, before resettling his hands at my hips and encouraging me to rock against him. A hand slips up to press against the small of my back, inviting me to arch further into him.

He reaches down and dips his fingers into the slick wetness between my thighs. I try to roll my hips down, to feel him inside me but, with a brief, warning glance in my direction, I abate and he continues to tease, repeatedly skipping past the places where I need him most.

Frustration growing and wrists still bound, I lean forward to rub my chest against his starched, white shirt, gently biting at his neck; a silent plea in desperation.

reckoning

Without warning, I'm roughly pushed away, away from him, and he leans back to examine the signs of my undoing. I struggle against my restraints, wanting nothing more than to pull at his clothes, to make him touch me, to elicit a reaction. Instead, he simply watches, testing to see if I've learnt my lesson and if I intend to obey.

His intentions apparent, I quiet the movement of my hips, fighting back tears borne of longing denied and attempting to breathe through the overwhelming, maddening sense of

need

that pounds in my ears.

Several painfully prolonged moments pass; neither interrupting the fraught silence, my gaze lowered in unspoken contrition. I hear a murmured, "

Do you plan on behaving now?

" and nod tearfully in response, anguish sitting thickly in my throat. Seemingly satisfied with my reaction, he finally relents.

Time measured in heartbeats, his belt buckle is undone, weight shifted and I'm sinking, slowly sinking into oblivion.

yielding

Relishing in his closeness, and with a recentred focus, I pause and seek direction. "

Move

", he commands, and I hasten to begin hungrily riding him, building up to a frantic, frenzied pace. Emboldened by the tightening grip of his hands guiding my hips, I give myself over to him, completely.

Exquisite delight flows from the knowledge of succumbing to his will and entrusting myself to him; my body made pliant, yielding to his whims, and with each movement, with each touch, I ascend to new peaks. Forcefully pulled to the precipice, I'm then plunged into blinding ecstasy that borders on agony.

Unable to find purchase or solidity as I drift unmoored, I slump forward and hide my face in his neck; a passive vessel for the torrent of pleasure pulsing through me.

Undeterred, he begins fucking up into me, hips snapping up harshly, making me cry out from the compounding stimulation. "

Settle

", he growls at me and continues pressing, deeper, as I tremble at the acuteness of sensation. With a guttural moan, he spills over, (ful)filling a dark, instinctual desire.

Between the rise and fall of breaths, we slowly come back to ourselves, and to one another, in deep-seated contentment. The ties binding my wrists are loosened, but I remain transfixed, incapable of willing my body to move, not least from the sanctuary found positioned on his lap.