"Beg me to tie you up," he said.
His voice fell flat and hard into the space between us, and I swallowed with difficulty. But if this was what it took, fine.
"Please, Malcolm," I whispered. "Tie me up."
"Louder."
"Tie me up. Please."
"Louder. With feeling, Sadie."
It was almost corny... and yet it gave me a delicious thrill to hear him order me around. Usually I was the one doing the ordering.
"Please, Malcolm, tie me up. Twist me up and tie me up and fuck me, please, please--"
He snatched my wrist from the bed, and in only a few quick movements my hand was bound and he was moving on to the next one. Swiftly, with practiced hands, he bound me thoroughly, but not uncomfortably, and when at last I was fully spread and immobilized, I couldn't hide my arousal any longer. My mouth was dry as I panted in anticipation.
"I'm going to make you come, Sadie," Malcolm told me, and it was so matter-of-fact I wanted to laugh.
"Why?" I said. "I feel like I'm getting away with something, because I never get to give you--Ah!"
I shrieked at the sudden lash across my nipples. Sharp. Swift. Something that whistled through the air. A riding crop, I realized. Something for beating horses.
I should have felt insulted. But instead, I just moaned at the pain as it raced through my body, transmuting into pleasure.
"Silence," Malcolm said. "I am going to make you come." He paused. "And," he added, and I could just see the faint smile on his face, "If you make any noise at all, except for when I ask you questions, I will delay your orgasm by one minute.":
"So I have to be silent?" I asked.
The riding crop lashed over my nipples again, and it took all I had not to squeak with pleasure. "No talking," he told me. “You have bought yourself a minute of agony.”
I bit my lip and said nothing.
He moved to the wall where something clicked open. A tiny glow illuminated his face, and he adjusted something. The heater, I realized when it kicked on and he shut it again, leaving us in blackness again.
Warm air caressed my skin, my sore nipples, my pussy so wet it was already coated with the juices of my core. I stared up into the dark and listened as Malcolm began to shuck his clothing.
I heard the fall of his blazer, the grate of his zipper, the whisper of his trousers as they slid past his hips and to the ground. He stepped out of his pants, removing his hard leather shoes as he did so, and his sigh of relief was like a fresh breeze.
When at last the bed dipped with his weight, I was hot and ready for him. The heat of his body was a balm on my own burning desire, and he laid against me, over me, every inch of his hard, naked body rubbing against mine. Where our skin met, we melded, and I lost myself. Soft lips found my ear, teased me with breath and teeth. His muscled arms, his broad chest, his trim hips and hard thighs slid against my body, a perfect male specimen. The contrast between his body and mine, a beautiful man and... well... me, made my cheeks heat in the dark in something akin to embarrassment.#p#分页标题#e#
I told myself it was merely a pang of regret rooted in aesthetic sensibility. In the contrast between beauty and decay, I came out on the wrong side of the equation.
Malcolm rocked his hips into me, his cock heavy and hot pressed against my belly. Then he removed himself, planting hot, damp kisses down my throat and breasts, trailing over my ribcage and stomach, until he reached my exposed pussy. Warm breath puffed over it, and my hips rocked involuntarily toward him.
He settled himself down between my legs, looping an arm casually over one splayed thigh before cupping the inside of the other in his hand and placing the pad of his thumb on my soft, slick cunt. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he began to glide his thumb against my labia and clit, and my eyes rolled back in my head in bliss.
For what seemed like forever, he slipped and slid the pad of his finger over me, exploring my folds and crevices, slowly, inexorably driving me wild. My head tossed with each ripple of pleasure that spiraled through me, and it was pain to stay silent as he sweetly coaxed ecstasy from my body.
After a while, he switched his focus and began to move with more purpose, more intent. Gently he smeared my juices over my pussy and asshole, and I quivered and ached in anticipation. When he finally slipped his pinky finger past the tight ring of muscle of my puckered entrance, I gulped and licked my lips. Then another finger—I couldn't tell which one—slid into my pussy, an easy, swift entry. His thumb alighted on my clit, and I remembered how he had stroked me to orgasm in just this way our very first time. The memory alone caused a moan to well in my chest, and I was only able to bite it back at the last second.