Page 78 of The Bodyguard

“Color?” he asked, his voice low and dark.

“Green,” she whispered, her body vibrating with anticipation.

The rope was soft but unyielding, jute encased in velvet that coiled around her wrists with practiced precision. He moved with the grace of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, wrapping the rope around her forearms, crisscrossing up to her elbows. Each knot was deliberate, each tug grounding her in the moment. He brushed the back of his fingers against her skin as he worked, a constant reminder of his control, his presence. When he stepped back, she was bound from shoulders to fingertips, her arms held together like an offering.

Mitch leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Tonight, you belong to me. You don’t speak unless I say. You don’t come unless I allow it. You don’t think—only feel.”

She nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Words.”

“Yes, Sir,” she choked out, her voice trembling with need.

He took her chin in his hand, his grip firm but never painful, and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “You want this?”

Her answer came out ragged, raw with desperation. “Yes. More than anything.”

He turned her gently but decisively, pressing her forward until her knees hit the padded bench. When she hesitated, he issued a single sharp command, “Down.” She obeyed without hesitation, bending over with her ass high in the air, her bound arms resting against the padded leather.

His hand trailed down the curve of her spine, leaving fire in its wake. She shivered, her body already aching for more.

“I’m not going to cause you real pain,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Only enough to remind you who you are.”

She exhaled, her voice barely audible. “Yes, Sir.”

The first slap landed hard against her bare ass, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. Pain flared, sharp and bright, before melting into a deep, throbbing heat. He didn’t stop. Another slap followed, then another, rhythmic and unrelenting. By the fifth strike, her skin was on fire, her thighs trembling with the effort to stay upright. Her pussy pulsed with every blow, wet slick trickling down her inner thighs.

He didn’t stop at spanking. His fingers slid between her folds, dipping into the slickness there before retreating just as quickly, leaving her whining for more. His mouth followed, his tongue flicking against her clit with just enough pressure to make her moan, then pulling away before she could beg for release.

Her sounds filled the room—desperate, hungry, needy. She was shaking, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Then she felt him behind her, his cock thick and hard, pulsing against her wetness. He rubbed the head along her slit, teasing her clit before sliding down to her entrance and back up in a torturous rhythm. She was soaked, trembling with need.

“Do you want it?” he growled, his voice strained with restraint.

“Yes,” she gasped, her hips bucking toward him.

“How bad?”

She whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please, Sir. Please fuck me.”

“Beg louder.”

Her head dropped, her body quaking with need. “Please, Master. I need it. I need you.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

He drove into her with a single, brutal thrust, slamming into her so deep she screamed. It wasn’t pain—it was release, everything she’d been holding back, breaking free in a flood of ecstasy. Her walls clenched around him, her body arching into every thrust as he took her like he owned her—because he did.

His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her back so she arched deeper into him. “Say it,” he rasped, his voice rough with need.

She choked on the words, her orgasm building with every stroke. “I’m yours.”

His thrusts slowed, each one deeper than the last. “Say it right.”

Bound and trembling, Andi opened her eyes and surrendered completely to him. When the words came, they weren’t just spoken—they were offered like a prayer.

“I’m yours, Master. Please…”

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