Page 31 of A Murderous Crow
The soft satin with its slightly crisp, scratchy edges was laid over my eyes, and I gripped the counter in front of me until Iknew my knuckles mottled red and white without having to see them.
“I want you to listen to the sound of my voice, and I want either a ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’, do I make myself clear?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered uncertainly. His hands were gentle and warm where he rested them on my shoulders, his thumbs digging ever so slightly into the base of my neck.
“Do you prefer I wear a condom?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said, and my throat felt so tight it almost made an audibly clicking sound as I tried to swallow past it.
“I’m going to push you,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. I’m going to introduce you to a pleasure so fine it may be confused with pain. I’m going to hurt you, not badly, but enough to make you suffer beautifully for me. Can you handle that for me?” he asked.
I know he wanted a yes-or-no answer, but the truth felt more important in this moment. “I don’t know, sir…” I breathed.
“Hm…” The noise was so small, and yet so profound as helistened to me, and really contemplated what I’d just said. That, in and of itself, sapped some of the fear away and left me feeling both hopeful and grounded.
“This dynamic isn’t for the faint of heart, Bright Eyes, so I’m going to go slow tonight. Some night, though? The training wheels are going to come off, and I’m going to scare the living shit out of you. But I promise, if you’re a good girl and you take it all, I’ll be the one to kiss away your tears.”
His lips touched the side of my neck like the brush of butterfly wings, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as I’d hung onto every single one of his words.
Iachedfrom the dark promise of his words. I knew it was very likely absolutely batshit insane for me to want what he was offering,but damn did I want it.
“Does that sound good?” he asked beside my other ear, and I jumped, having not felt him move.
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, and I think my lack of hesitation pleased him because I could hear him smile.
“Come with me, Bright Eyes.” He turned me carefully in his grasp, and slid his fingertips down my arms, capturing my hands with his and towing me along. I stepped out of the ring of my dress carefully. It probably looked comical to him, but he didn’t laugh.
The tile of the bathroom floor was cool against my feet, but with only a step or three, it transitioned to a plush carpet that felt like it went on for days.
He turned me and backed me against the bed, much as he’d backed me against the table at The Olde Pink House, and ordered me gently, “Sit.” I sat, and his hands disappeared from mine.
I listened hard, which was honestly harder than it sounds, with the way my heart pounded and the blood swished behind my eardrums with every pulse. I faintly heard the rustle of clothing as he more than likely disrobed, and my anxiety spiked.
Shit. I was doing this! I was really doing this!
“Lie back, try and center yourself on the bed,” he ordered. I put my hands down by my hips and pushed myself back, putting my legs up and laying my head on the pillows. I swiped my hands over the velveteen covers and to the edges of the bed, and did my best to scoot over when my hand reached the edge on one side but not the other at first.
“Is this good?” I asked nervously and was met with a noise of disapproval.
“Ah! What did I tell you? The only thing you’re to speak right now is ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’, remember?”
I blushed. “Yes, sir…”
“That’s your one and only mistake, do you understand? Do it again, and I’ll have to suitably punish you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, and the bed dipped at my knee off to one side.
It was silent, for a time, but then his fingertips lightly touched the apex of my thighs, and I jumped.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “But I think I’d quite like you helpless…”
I jumped slightly as his weight shifted, and there was a rattle of chain above my head.
“Give me your wrists,” he ordered, and I hesitated for a second. He waited me out, and I held out my wrist vaguely in the direction of his voice. He wrapped gentle fingers around it and lifted it over my head, where satin-lined leather wrapped around it. There was a snicking sound as he fed a tongue through the buckle on what had to be a restraint, and he worked to fasten it tightly.
“Give that a tug,” he ordered, and I did, my hand catching at the thumb joint and nearly sliding through. He adjusted it a notch and ordered, “Again.”
