Page 37 of The Devil's Spawn

In the end, I’d failed. With my hands balled against the glass, I’d begged him to let me come, heedless of who might be watching my grand moment of weakness as my husband pushed his tongue into my pussy again and again.

Of course, he’d ignored my pleas. But at least there was one positive side effect to having been pushed to the edge all day; I throbbed for release so much that the nausea subsided, and I I figured I’d have no problem digging into dinner like a starving, ravenous pig.

After Leah’s mom picked up Eve, and the evening fell into darkness, I entered the bedroom to prepare for the charity ball. That’s when I noticed a box sitting on the end of the bed.

Gage hovered behind me, his body heat warming my back as excitement zinged through my veins. Damn, this man…his biggest achievement in life was turning me inside out and upside down. Tonight would challenge me, scare me, but knowing Gage, it would also make me stronger in my submission. Tonight would be the first true test of our roles since finding out about the baby.

“Are you curious what’s inside?” he asked.

“Of course I am.”

“Address me properly.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Your pregnancy doesn’t give you license to act like a brat, and it won’t prevent me from punishing your hole.” To drive home his point, he drew a finger between my butt cheeks, bottom to top. “Anal penetration won’t harm the baby if done with care.”

I wanted to argue, mostly because I hated when he punished my asshole, but the doctor had given us the rundown on what was safe and what wasn’t. As long as my pregnancy continued on a normal, healthy path, Gage still had plenty of room to make me bend.

“May I open the box now, Master?”

“You may,” he said with a playful swat to my bottom.

It was enough to send me into motion. I sensed him lingering a couple of feet behind me as I crossed to the bed. That box drew my attention like a beacon, with its gorgeous burgundy color, accented with black lace and trimmed in gold. I pried the top off and pushed the tissue paper aside to reveal black rope and a jeweled butt plug. Dread and longing collided inside me until I couldn’t decide whether to run from what he had planned, or beg for it. I lifted the rope and turned to face him.

“I thought you could use a couple of accessories to match your dress.” His mouth curled into a smug smile.

“My dress?” I rubbed the silky rope between my fingers.

“Come,” he said, holding out a hand.

Sliding my palm into his felt as natural as breathing. He led me to our wardrobe and unzipped a garment bag that hadn’t been in there that morning when I’d dressed.

“Wow,” I breathed, more than taken with the gown that spilled from the bag. The dress was the same deep burgundy as the butt plug, and the skirt was as full as a ballroom gown. I ran my fingers over the black and gold beadwork that adorned the front of the strapless corset-styled bodice.

“What a divine creation,” he said, fingering the satin material, but his gaze never left me. “Wearing clothing should be illegal. If I could escort your naked body to this ball and get away with it, I would.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “I guess this dress will have to do, at least until we get to the better portion of the night.”

Theafterparty.

He freed the dress from the bag before escorting me back into the bedroom. I clutched the rope, which was long enough that the end trailed behind me on the hardwood floor. He carefully arranged the dress on the bed before moving toward me with purpose, one hand outstretched, palm up.

“Hand me the rope, please.”

It slipped from my fingers, like silk pouring from my hand to his, and a chill broke out on my skin as I watched him fold it in half. I had no clue what he was about to do. The upcoming night held many intrigues—beginning right here in our bedroom.

“Extend your arms.”

As I stood with my arms spread and feet shoulder-width apart on the floor, he wound the rope above and below my breasts, his fingers grazing my skin in a way that caused gooseflesh. Then he drew the rope over my nipples—fuck, they were sensitive—and weaved it into neat little knots as he worked, before making a loop around my neck. Finally, he finished by running the rope between my legs. All of my most sensitive parts came alive under the restraining friction of the silky twine. I couldn’t move without arousal flaring to life.

He halted in front of me, his eyes bright with mischief and lips curved in a knowing smirk as if to say how he’d be the one stroking me by proxy all night long.

“Bend over the bed,” he said, grabbing the butt plug.

I found freedom in yielding to his commands, despite fighting myself daily on giving him my unconditional trust. The more I resisted, the more firm his resolve to exorcize my last thread of independence tonight. As he slipped the plug in, making my pussy shamefully wet from that single action alone, I thought he might just achieve his goal. I was tired of battling an internal war I’d never win.

“The plug is synced to my cell. For the duration of the night, when it vibrates, I expect you to touch yourself.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Where? The women’s restroom?” Damn it. He knew how I hated submitting in public places.

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