Page 36 of Rogue
I cut the other leg of her jeans off her body, watching her struggle to keep still the entire time, and then I take the scissors to the flowy shirt she’s wearing. I cut down the arms, and then straight down the middle, biting back a smile every time she twitches when the cold metal makes contact with her belly, her arm, her chest.
“Get up,” I tell her. “Stand here, in front of me.”
She climbs out of the ruins of her clothes, leaving them behind on the bed, and it’s almost like she’s leaving behind the scared, frightened part of her. I gather up the material and dump it on the floor at the end of the bed, and then I sit on the edge of the mattress, surveying her in her underwear.
She doesn’t cover herself or hide. She simply stands there, waiting for my next command. She’s good at this. Perfect, in fact. “Come here,” I say, opening my legs so she can stand between them. She takes two steps forward so she’s right where I want her. There’s only a flicker of doubt in her eyes when I raise the scissors and slowly slide the blade beneath the lacy material of her panties at her left hip. The soft snip of the metal cutting through the lace is the only sound in the room. I cut the material at the other hip, too, and her panties flutter to the floor, nothing to hold them up anymore.
Nowshe gets antsy. She shifts from one foot to the other, pressing her thighs together, and I tut. “You want me to punish you, don’t you, sugar. You’re asking for trouble.” Again, she wants to speak but she doesn’t. She frowns at me instead, her fingers curling into fists by her sides. She’s self-conscious. God knows why, she has the most incredibly sexy body, but she is, I can tell. She wants to keep me from seeing the one part of her that no one ever sees. But I have seen her. I’ve gone down on her often enough to be on very good terms with that part of her body. I’m willing to put good money on the fact that her ex never went down on her. Not properly. He should have made her feel comfortable with her body. She doesn’t know that her pussy is beautiful, that I could happily look at it all day long as I made her come, and she would have a fight on her hands if she tried to stop me.
I take the scissors and run the point from a couple of inches below her belly all the way up until I hit the under wiring of her bra. She knows what comes next. Her hands make fists again and this time they don’t uncurl. She looks up, away from me, eyes fixed on a point on the wall straight head. Her shoulders lift up and down rapidly, like she’s afraid I’m going to cut her. She knows I won’t, though. She’s hardly a shy woman. She’d be waling on me in a second flat if she thought I was going to do her any harm. I love that about her.
She’s still focusing on the wall when I cut through the slender strap between the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts. “Take it off, sugar,” I growl. Her eyes meet mine again as she obliges me, sliding the thin straps that I’ve left intact over her shoulders and down her arms. Completely naked, she stands in front of me like a statue, not moving, not saying anything, doing exactly as I told her to. Her obedience is remarkable, given that I know she wants to cover herself up. I place the scissors on the floor and kick them under the bed so they’re out of the way, and then I tell her what I want from her next.
“On your knees, Soph. Be a good girl now.”
She gives me a sharp look, eyes narrowed, but she only takes a moment’s pause before she’s lowering herself to her knees. I’m thinking she must be pretty pleased with the fact that her pussy isn’t at my eye level now, but little does she know that’s about to change.
“Good. Now, open your legs for me, sugar.”
“But—” She clamps her mouth shut as quickly as she’s opened it, but it’s too late, the damage has already been done.
“Oh dear...” I send her my most fucked up, smug, wicked looking grin. “Looks like someone broke a rule.”
“Oh come on, I didn’t mean to. I—”
“You did it again. And here I was, thinking you were doing so well.” I try my best not to laugh when I catch sight of the mortified expression she’s wearing; she must have been counting on the fact that she wasn’t going to break my rules, and now it looks like she’s done it twice.
She wants to defend herself, to say it wasn’t her fault, I provoked her, but she manages to stop herself from speaking this time. Crying shame, because racking up three individual punishments in under a minute would have been a record.
“You know I have to teach you a lesson now, sweetheart. I can’t let that slide. I would if I could, but…y’know…rules are rules and all. Spread your legs for me, princess and I’ll go easy on you.”
Sophia rolls her eyes and sighs, presumably resigning herself to her fate. Without another word, she does as I’ve told her, opening up for me. She doesn’t just open a little ways either. She pushes her legs out as far as she can do in this position, exposing herself to me.
“Good girl. Now lie back on your heels, so they’re still underneath you but your back is arching away from the floor.” She does as she’s told again. In this position, her breasts are close at hand for me to palm as I sink down to the floor and proceed to go down on her.
Some men like to drive fast cars. Some dudes go fishing. But this, right here, giving head to Sophia, is my favorite pastime. I know she loves it, even though she likes to think it’s embarrassing. It’s fucking hot. She’s fucking hot. I’m painfully aware of the fact that I’m fully dressed as I stroke my tongue slowly across Sophia’s clit. But this is part of her punishment. I’m not going to get naked with her now. I’m not going to fuck her either, no matter how badly my balls are aching. I’m going to tease Sophia, send wave after wave of pleasure shooting through her body. I’m going to make her sweat and writhe and moan, and when she comes it will be the best orgasm of her life. And after, when she’s sated and limbless, sleep rolling over her, I’m going to tell her that next time I’ll stop right before she climaxes if she misbehaves herself. And I will leave her like that without a second thought.
So this is what I do. Soph’s attempt to stay still and keep quiet is a valiant one, but in my head I guestimate it’s a mere four minutes before she completely loses it. She doesn’t even seem aware that she’s bucking and grinding her hips against my mouth—which incidentally drives me fucking insane. She’s so fucking beautiful. I watch the sheer bliss on her face as I continue to use my tongue to bring her closer and closer to coming, and for the first time since I was fourteen years old I nearly end up making a mess of my pants. She’s practically tearing the floorboards up with her bare hands when she finally comes.
It’s the most spectacular, amazing thing to watch. Her back arches off the floor, chest heaving, thighs clamped firmly around my head, and she screams. She screams loud enough that the guys down in the clubhouse must now either assume I’m murdering her or that we’re having ten-out-of-ten, hard core sex.
When her body stops shaking, Sophia looks up at me out of half-closed eyes and scowls. “I’m in serious trouble now, aren’t I?” she says breathlessly.
I laugh, and then I slap her thigh, which doesn’t seem to amuse her as much as it entertains me. “Oh, fuck yeah, girl. You have absolutely no idea what I get to do to you now. The only thing that will save you now is that tattoo we talked about.”
“No way! I amnotgetting tattooed.”
“We’ll see.” I crawl up her body, placing kisses on her hot, sweet-smelling skin. I’m practically planking over her when I reach her mouth.
“I think you should be inside me now,” she pants through our kisses.
The way she says it, the way those words sound coming from her full, biteable lips, almost makes me cave. I stay strong, though. “Sorry, sugar. You were a bad girl. Only good girls get what they want.”
I leave her there on the floor, naked and still panting.
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