I was in the kitchen, chopping potatoes for stew for the next day, when I felt strong arms slide around my stomach.
Sneaky bastard- I hadn't heard his car or the door.
I let out a yelp, which made him chuckle.
"You shouldn't surprise people with large knives, you know" I said, mock-lecturing. He squeezed me harder, and I held back a moan as I felt his hardening cock press against the small of my back- I wasn't going to let him have that satisfaction, too. Not yet anyways.
The damp heat of his breath on that one spot on the back of my neck, followed by a teasing tongue, then a soft kiss, and finally the sweet sharpness of his teeth in my flesh. I couldn't stop the gasping whimper this time; the answering twitch made his self-satisfied laugh worth it. I glanced down at the floor, and as expected, he was shoeless: he had plans. The game was on.
I placed the knife firmly on the cutting board and turned to face him. He was smirking down at me, the first flickers of wildness blooming in those dark eyes. I smiled up at him-
damn his cuteness
- and stretched on my toes for a kiss.
He kissed me deep and hard, one hand sliding up from my waist to tangle in my hair and pulling me in closer with the other, as I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. He pushed me back against the counter, pulling lightly at my hair, and it was my turn to make him yelp with a fierce nip to his full lower lip.
He pulled back, tongue quickly darting out to soothe my bite; the slight snarl on his face made my heart stutter a beat and then pick up pace. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as he stared me down, but I did not break eye contact.
He leaned down and whispered "You wild little bitch. Now I'm even more excited to show you the surprise I brought." His smirk returned as my breath hitched in anticipation; liquid warmth spread through my chest at the adoration the threat could not quite mask. He let go of me, and I reluctantly did the same.
"Stay," he ordered, and walked into the living room. Temptation to disobey warred with curiosity at the sounds of crinkling tissue; I decided that further provocation could wait, so I was standing still when he returned with a hand behind his back and a deliciously devious grin. He tilted my chin up for another kiss, this time leaving me panting for breath.
"Are you ready for your surprise?"
Excitement and a challenge danced in his eyes; entranced, I responded "Yes." I corrected myself after he raised an eyebrow: "Yes, Sir."
He kissed me again briefly, then whispered in my ear, "Good girl." I shivered as much from his breath in my ear as from his words. He released my face, then slowly revealed what he had been hiding: a sleek black collar paired with a gleaming metal chain dangled from his fist.
This time I fully stopped breathing as my eyes widened. He laughed outright at what must have been quite a look of shock on my face.
"What's wrong, my pet? Don't you want to prove that you belong to me?" That word-
belong
- set a fresh fire low in my belly, the heat building between my thighs, and stoked the sweet aching deep in my core. And yet, the desire to fight, to remain independent and free bristled at the same time. I wanted to throw myself at his feet, give him my belly, display my ass and drenched cunt and beg him to breed me- I wanted to claw his chest and snap at the hands that would dare try to collar me.
And he knew it all, knew I needed the dance, needed the fight as much as he did- he
loved
it, loved knowing my submission would be hard-won and thus unquestionable. I knew the thrill it brought him to know that none other could bring me to my knees or make me offer my neck, because I felt it mirrored in my own chest.
His grin was widening as he watched me deliberate, baring sharp canines. I knew he was wondering what I would do, planning his counterattack. I took a step back and hit the counter: he took a step forward. I tilted my head at him, warning and pleading simultaneously, and the grin widened more as he softly rattled the lead.
My lip curled as I glared at him, and that cocksure look in his eyes. I began to move sideways; he mirrored me again. We circled each other silently, eyes locked. My breath deepened, the quick drumbeat of blood in my ears, every muscle tended and ready, concentrating on only the tension building in the space between us. Once I had reached the doorway to the living room, I paused.
I darted my eyes to the left, and then sprinted to the right: a trick I had learned to fool goalkeepers when taking penalty kicks in soccer, and he fell for it every time. I couldn't hold back a giggle as I dashed into the living room and down the hall.
I heard him mutter "Fuck!" and then the beat of unhurried, but steady, footsteps heading in my direction. I reached the base of the stairs and darted up them. Instead of heading for our room at the end of the hall, I ducked into the linen closet, holding my hand over my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing.
Adrenaline surged and my heart raced faster when I heard him climbing the stairs, still moving at a decided pace but not running after me.
Not yet anyway
. Every inch of my skin crackled with energy; the hairs on my arms and the nape of my neck were standing on end.
"Where are you hiding, my little slut? We both know how this ends so why don't you give in already?" he called softly when he reached the top of the stairs. I held my breath and willed myself to become a statue as his footsteps began to pad down the hall. The carpet made judging his distance difficult, but when I thought he was near the far end, I turned the doorknob as slowly and gently as I could, then let the door drift open enough to slide through.
My first mistake was not holding the knob as it returned to its original position. The second was freezing when it made a loud
clack
and turning to look at him. He was only halfway down the hall, not at the end as I had hoped. And this time he did not move slowly.
I spun towards the stairs, but the momentary pause had been enough to give him an advantage: just as my fingertips glanced along the smooth wood banister, his firm arms snared my waist. He lifted me off the floor, laughing heartily as I kicked at the air, wriggling ineffectually and cursing. When he tired of my scratching at his arms, he threw me over his shoulder and gave my ass a hard smack— indignity heaped on insult.
He carried me down the hall, ignoring my demands to be put down, except for the occasional firm bite to my upper thighs where my skirt had ridden up. I had traded struggling for pouting by the time he opened the door to the bedroom. He pulled me down from his shoulder to cradle in his arms, stared hungrily into my eyes, and kissed me deeply and roughly.
I could not help but melt when his teeth clicked against mine and his tongue parted my lips to tease inside my mouth. When I was panting and grinding my thighs together, he pulled away; my whimper made him smirk again. His face moved close to me again and I closed my eyes only to feel his stubble against my cheek as he pushed my head to the side and nipped sharply at the tender base of my neck. I shuddered at the growl in his voice when he spoke against my skin, in between bites along my neck.
"You've had your fun, wild little creature. Now it's time I remind you what you are: my slut. My pet, to do with as I please. My bitch."
His teeth pressed more deeply into my flesh at my responding growl. The last traces of playfulness left his voice as he snarled in my ear, "Say it. Tell me what you are."
My pride withered at the breathy moan leaving my throat as I answered, "I am yours." A warning nip to the delicate skin where my jaw met my neck hastened me to continue: "I am your slut, your pet, Sir. Your bitch."
He smiled down at me, and whispered against my lips, "
That's my good girl
". He then tossed me unceremoniously onto the bed.
I landed on my ass in a tangle of legs and blankets, but quickly righted myself with my legs tucked under me, waiting for his next move. He sat on the bed next to me and slightly behind me. As he reached towards me, damnable collar in hand, I sprung, grabbing at his waist and pushing him back to straddle him.
"Is this really the game you want to play, pet?" The threat in his voice was belied by the sparkle in his eyes- I knew he didn't want my submission to come too easily. I leaned down for a deep kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth, hands on his chest, unable to resist grinding against him when his arms slid down my back. With one hand gripping my ass tightly, the other crept further, slipping under my skirt and pressing too softly against my mound.
He broke the kiss to whisper "You're fucking soaked already, my little whore," and chuckled lightly. I was nearly past words and could only moan and press my cunt harder into his fingers. I sighed when he roughly pulled the edge of my panties to the side, then gasped when I felt the chain slip between my wet folds. The shock of cold metal against skin that was so on fire was heightened by the reminder of the chain and the stakes of this game.