Page 99 of Objection
“Stay,” he commanded, before walking back into the kitchen and returning with a single plate for the two of us to share. He sat at the head of the table, pulling me close to him, with just enough room on the table for our plate of food. He spread my legs, putting me back into the same position he had me in on the countertop.
The first bite he fed me, a ripe strawberry, was decadent. Sweet and the perfect texture. The juice ran over my lips, and he was quick to kiss me, licking it from my lips. Each bite continued that way. Him taking a bite or two before feeding me some piece of cheese or meat or fruit.
My teeth bit at his fingertips, sucked the sweet fruit juice from his skin. My tongue teased his flesh as we made our dinner as sensual as possible. He let me feed him a few pieces as well, his own teeth and lips and tongue giving me similar treatment and making the moment heady and delicious. The moment elongated, heightening our headspaces and pulling us further into our play the longer we sat there.
These moments, these little moments we share outside of the playroom that were almost like limbo, were everything. We weren’t in the playroom, but we weren’t just Soren and Posey either. It was limbo and it was there that we found the most integral part of our play. The buildup. The way we moved and worked together. How we played teased. Almost like a dance.
“Come, my love. It’s time for us to adjourn to the playroom,” he spoke against my lips as we finished our dinner.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll just pick up the plates and —”
“No, princess. Come now.” I gulped almost audibly, scooting off of the table and following him to the stairs. We never left the dishes out or dinner still out in the kitchen.
“I know this is not our norm, love, but I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel you, to touch you, to own you,” he growled against my lips, kissing me at the bottom of the staircase.
“Anything, Sir,” I answered breathily. As soon as we entered the playroom, our moods shifted. We were in tune with one another and ready in our positions. I kneeled in the center of the room, hands places palm up on my thighs and my eyes lowered. I could feel his dominance permeating the room and I was ready to answer his call.
“Repeat after me, love. I am important,” he began.
“I am kind.”
“I am valued,” he continued. Affirmations and mantras had become an important part of our play. They helped to not only set the tone but to drive home the love that ran like a river through each and every scene, no matter if it was a scene focused on pain, humiliation, teasing, or more. Love was the key.
“I am strong.”
“I am strong.” My voice gained confidence as I repeated his words without hesitation.
“I am worthy,” he ended, cupping my face in his hand.
“I am worthy,” I answered with a smile, my eyes meeting his.
“Now, love, I would like you to come with me over to the bench I’ve placed in front of the mirror. Straddle it, and I will join you in a moment. I obeyed, seating myself on the padded bench and waited for him as patiently as I could. He returned a moment later, my cuffs in his hands.
“Place your arms behind you, love.” He wrapped each cuff around my wrists and fastened them easily. “Arms above your head.”
When I did so, he hooked the cuffs together and moved in close to me, my back pressed against his chest. He moved my hands back behind his head, leaving me stretched open for him as we both gazed into the mirror.
“Do you know what I love about your body, Posey?” He whispered against my ear. I shook my head.
“I love how sensitive it is.” His hands moved lightly over my waist and up my ribcage, following the lines up my arms and back down again as I sighed against him.
“I love the way your body moves when you laugh,” he grinned as his fingers found the ticklish spots under my arms and along my ribs.
“I love how you smile for me; how it lights up the room.” His arms wrapped around my waist, tugging me in close.
His hand moved down my body as I watched it’s progression in the mirror, my breath coming more rapidly now. He slowly descended downwards until his hand was between my thighs, his fingers tickling my lower lips teasingly.
“Do you know what else I love, princess?” he whispered with a devilish smirk. His fingers slid between my lips, finding my entrance and sliding inside in one smooth motion, curling upwards as they reached that spot I loved so much.
My whole body arched, my head thrown back as he held me tight and groaned.
“That. I love that one simple motion of my fingers,” he purred as his fingers made a come-hither motion inside of me. “One simple motion makes you arch and melt and nearly come apart in my arms. It’s the most powerful heady feeling next to making you cum. Christ, how I love that.”
On and on his little game went, touching parts of my body, making me writhe and moan for him as he spoke of all the things he loved about my body. Every curve, every stretch mark, every roll of my stomach. Finally, he touched the tattoo just beneath my collar bone. The one that was for him alone, our little secret. It was his mark on my skin, permanent and perfect. He had told me, in one of our many therapy sessions in the beginning of our relationship, that when we had first begun our dynamic, all those years ago, his first thought when he had seen my body was that he wanted his marks all over me. He wanted to mark my skin with his signature. So, after we got married, we did just that. A dainty, obscure design lay just below my collarbone. It was his initials. S.W. But to any normal person looking, it was just a strange and interesting looking design. Our little secret.
“Now that I’ve reminded you of how precious you are to me, princess, I want to mark your body. I need to mark it. I need to show you just how incredible you are.” His words pulled me further under into my submission and I nodded with a slow smile.
He moved my hands from behind his head and led me carefully to the center of the room. He lifted my arms again, attaching the cuffs to a ring high overhead, making me stretch up on to my tip toes.
