Page 106 of The CEO

I bind her wrists with practiced efficiency, the black silk contrasting beautifully against her pale skin. Each loop of rope is precise and secure, without cutting off circulation—decorative as well as functional. Her breathing changes as the restraint becomes real, a physical manifestation of her surrendered control.

“How does that feel?” I ask, checking the tightness of the bonds.

“Strange,” she admits. “Restrictive, but . . . freeing, somehow.”

“That’s the paradox of submission,” I explain, moving to face her again. “By surrendering control, you’re liberated from the responsibility of it. All decisions and all consequences rest with me now.”

I lift her chin with my finger, ensuring her eyes meet mine. “Your only responsibility is to obey. Can you do that for me, Eve?”

“Yes, Lord.” The trust in her eyes is humbling, the gift of her submission more precious than she can possibly understand.

“Stand up.”

She rises with some difficulty, her balance altered by her bound arms. I guide her to the bed, positioning her on her knees at its edge, facing away from me. With gentle pressure, I encourage her to bend forward until her chest rests against the mattress, her bound arms behind her in a position of complete vulnerability.

“Stay exactly like this,” I instruct, moving to retrieve more items from the case. “Don’t move until I give you permission.”

“Yes, Lord.” Her voice is muffled against the sheets, but the eager compliance is clear.

I return with a soft leather crop, letting her feel its presence as I drag it lightly across her exposed skin. She shivers but remains perfectly still, honoring my command despite what must be growing anticipation.

“This is for discipline,” I explain, continuing to trace patterns across her back, her thighs. “Not punishment—you’ve done nothing wrong. But discipline to help you focus, to remind you of your place, to intensify sensations. Do you understand the difference?”

“I think so,” she answers carefully. “Punishment would be for disobedience. Discipline is part of the experience itself.”

“Very good.” I’m pleased by her understanding. “I’m going to use this now. Not to hurt you, but to remind you that your body belongs to me, to prepare you for what comes next. If it becomes too much, what do you say?”

“Orchid.”

“Correct.” Without further warning, I deliver a light tap to the curve of her buttock, careful and controlled, more sensation than pain.

She gasps but doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to move away. I continue, alternating sides, gradually increasing intensity while carefully monitoring her responses. Her skin begins to glow beautifully, warmth blooming beneath my ministrations. Her breathing changes, becoming deeper, more rhythmic, as she surrenders to the sensations.

“How are you feeling?” I ask after several minutes, pausing to run my hand over her warmed skin.

“Good,” she murmurs, sounding slightly dazed. “Present. Focused.”

“On what?”

“On you, Lord. On what you’re doing to me. On how it feels.”

“And how does it feel?” I prompt, wanting her to articulate the experience.

“Intense.” She slightly struggles to find words. “Like everything is heightened. Like nothing exists except this moment, these sensations, your control.”

“That’s called subspace,” I explain, setting aside the crop to caress her sensitized skin. “When submission becomes so complete that the outside world fades away. It’s a form of meditation, in a way.”

“I like it,” she admits, voice dreamy and distant.

“I can tell.” My fingers drift lower, finding her pussy already soaked with arousal. “Your body is very honest, Eve. It tells me exactly how much you’re enjoying surrendering to me.”

She moans softly as my fingers explore, discovering just how responsive she’s become. I continue sliding two fingers in and out, learning exactly how submission affects her physically, memorizing every moan and gasp.

“Please,” she whispers as I bring her closer to the edge without allowing her to cross it.

“Please what?” I prompt with a hard slap to her ass, requiring her to articulate her needs.

“Please let me come, Lord.” The desperation in her voice is genuine, beautiful in its honesty.

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