She stood naked in front of the floor length mirror, her heart fluttering nervously. The unrest in the pit of her stomach was unexpected as she ran her fingers through her hair, but it was there nonetheless. She blew out a quick breath and focused on his reflection over her bare shoulder. He was blindfolded and perfectly still, the cream colored sheets barely rumpled beneath his back. Her eyes wandered the length of his body and she couldn’t help but smile a little as she admired her handiwork of his bound wrists tied to the wrought iron bar above his head. She didn’t need to hear him say he craved her to know that he did. She could see his need glistening in the soft light. But she wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted. She wasn’t sure she could.
Other than shoving her strap-on down his throat until he gagged or biting his chest, she had never caused him pain. And when he’d expressed his desire for her to hurt him, she found herself in the middle of unfamiliar territory and she was lost without a map. She wasn’t sure how to meet his needs. She had no idea where to start.
Walking quietly to the edge of the bed, she raked her nails along his thigh, his gasp sending a rush of heat down her spine. His smile assured her that she was on the right path, and she instinctively dug her fingers into his cheeks until it disappeared.
“Please, Mistress,” he begged.
Biting back her smile, she climbed onto the bed and lowered herself just above his face. She grabbed both of his nipples and twisted them as hard as she could until he cried out, his mouth hungrily devouring her ass. And listening to the sounds of his pleasure as she slapped his cock, she realized it was never a question of if she could hurt him. It was a question of when.
