He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth as he scrutinized me, and I took the opportunity to drink him in. Tall, with onyx black hair and sharp brown eyes that were, at the moment, devoid of any emotion except concentration. No shirt was covering his broad chest, so I was able to see the muscles ripple clearly beneath his skin and the faint smattering of chest hair. It was a dangerously powerful body—deliciously powerful—and though I was able to admit that his face was not as attractive as the ones that I had fallen for in the past, I knew that any woman would be insane not to kneel before him. He was the only person I'd met that was strong enough both mentally and physically to dominate me, the only one that really knew how.
I wanted him to be my Sir. This is why we're here today; he wanted a test run of sorts.
The dark wood floor is cool against my knees and toes. I'm sitting in my submissive position—the one he told me he prefers his subs to use. Kneeling, hands gripping each other at the back of my head, chin up, eyes down, and thighs spread. I'm naked, per his command.
"Farther apart," he orders finally, snapping the inside of my thigh with the leather riding crop he has in his grasp. A delicious ripple of sensation crawls through my body at the sting of the leather, and I immediately shuffle my thighs as wide as they'll go.
"Good girl," he murmurs, and I can hear the approval in his voice. I flush with pleasure, suppressing a smile. "You may look at me now."
Hesitantly, unsure if he means it, I trail my eyes up his form, from his naked feet, over his faded jeans, and up his bare torso until I reach his face. His expression is impassive as he watches me drink him in, his eyes dark and distant but radiating his effortless control. There's no trace of the affection he feels for me in them.
"Up," he commands briskly. "Keep your hands behind your head, feet apart. Close your eyes and keep them closed." The last three words come out as an emphatic growl, and the muscles in my lower abdomen clench. I strangle a moan that tries to build in my throat as I follow his orders to the t. It just feels so damn good to do exactly what he demands.
I hear his soft footsteps as he moves slowly to stand behind me, and I feel like prey being stalked. A sliver of fear makes its way up my spine, and I have to battle the urge to open my eyes. You must obey, I tell myself firmly.
He stops just behind me, and I feel heat radiate from his proximity. My breathing goes shallow, anticipation clenching in my gut and pooling slowly between my thighs. All I can hear is my breath scraping through my lungs, and I strain desperately to hear something, any sign of what he's doing. My skin tingles, waiting for his touch. I want so badly for him to touch me.
Without warning, I feel his fingertip lightly between my shoulder blades, and my breath catches in my throat. The feeling is amplified by what seems like months of waiting for this and by the lack of visual stimulation. As he slowly runs his finger down my spine, I remind myself to breathe, trying to keep my legs from trembling as I involuntarily get wetter.
His finger reaches my lower back, and I feel his hand flex around my right hip, squeezing gently. I can't help myself; I moan softly in my throat.
"Quiet," he reprimands me, but there's a warm note in his voice. "I'd spank you for that if I didn't think you would cum." His voice wraps around my brain, his confidence in his power and the stimulating threat almost making me moan again, but I stop myself.
His hand slides to my back and down to stroke my ass. My heart leaps into my throat and fire smolders in the base of my abdomen. "I quite like this," he says softly, his words dark with desire. I wonder for a moment if he's referring to my ass or the situation we're in, but he doesn't give me the chance to think on it long. There's the loud sound of skin hitting skin, and after a second I feel the sting across my ass from his hand, and my legs start to tremble. I feel my anticipation dripping out of me as his hand gently caresses the place where he hit me, and a very quiet moan comes out of my throat.
His hand disappears from me and I feel him step back slightly. "Hands by your sides."
I lower my hands instantly, letting my arms hang loosely. My eyelids flutter in protest to being closed for so long. I try to ignore it.
Once again, I'm pulled out of my thoughts by his touch. With a quick jerk, he pulls me back against him by my hips, and I inhale sharply. One arm crosses my belly and holds me against him, and his free hand closes around my right wrist and pulls it behind me. He presses my palm against his erection through his jeans, making me draw in a sharp breath, and the order to keep my eyes closed no longer matters. They're rolling back in my head.
I wrap my fingers around the bulge as best as I can through the material, sizing him up. Thick, really thick. The warmth pulsing into my palm only serves to drive me crazier. A moan too soft for him to hear comes out like a breath of desire.
"You feel how bad I want you?" His voice is very quiet, and right by my ear. My brain is in a fog of lust and doesn't register the question. He covers my hand with his and presses it more firmly against him as he repeats the question, his voice now an impatient growl. "Do you feel how bad I want you?"
"Yes, sir," I gasp, my knees quaking.
"Good girl," he says, his voice rough and revealing how turned on he is. Oh, Sir, I know the feeling.
He removes my hand from him and grabs me by the shoulders, spinning me to face him. I force myself to keep my eyes closed.
"Look at me," he orders, still holding me by the shoulders, and I open my eyes to find him watching me, his dark eyes bright with ideas unfolding in his mind. Very softly, his thumb strokes my burning cheek, and then he says calmly, "This is working out quite well so far, I think. I'll go relatively easy on you tonight. We'll ease you into it, okay?"
"Yes, sir," I whisper, my eyes wide with eagerness and wonder. I've never done this before, and I think it amuses him.
"Now then," he murmurs, his hand casually sliding up my throat as his thumb strokes my temple. "What shall I do with you?" A grin plays around the sides of his mouth.
And then, abruptly, his hand slides into the hair at the nape of my neck, his fingers curl, and he pulls. Hard.
