Page 17 of Agency
“The way it’s stroking you?” Going down to the end, I slid my thumb over his head and gathered the mess of pre-cum he’d dripped for me. I spread the natural lubricant over his sensitive flesh like he’d earlier worked my clit.
Immediately, his legs began to tremble, and his eyes nearly rolled back.
“The way it’s sliding up and down and getting to know every inch of you?”
“Y-y-yes,” he said, his voice matching his legs as he gasped for air. “Y-y-yes, m-m-mistress.”
“Good boy,” I whispered, grazing my lips over his as I continued to stroke exactly as I had been. “You’re being such a good toy for your mistress. You know that, don’t you?”
“Th-th-thank you, mistress,” he breathed.
“But, do you know what would make you an even better toy?” I asked as I took my pre-cum slick hand from his pants. “Putting your hands above your head for me.”
He did as he was told, now almost eagerly, and raised his cuffed hands over his head. He even ignored the dangling end of the black belt that slapped down on the back of his head and naked shoulders, the look in his eyes telling me he didn’t question for a moment what that extra strip of leather could possibly be for.
I paused for a moment to look up at him. To see the way his pecs lifted, the way the pleasure and lust and submission had changed his face in the last few moments. He was still all there, that was for sure. Everything I’d been attracted to back at the Bothersome Beaver, including his firm jaw, bright green eyes, and tussled blond hair.
But, within that handsome, chiseled face and glittering, emerald eyes? A commitment. A commitment to pleasure, to seeing this through to the end. To reexamining his own expectations about the kinds of games women and men could play, and to finding out where they could go.
Good. That was exactly what I wanted.
I reached up behind Morgan and grabbed that dangling belt end. I tossed the strip of leather up over the partially open bathroom door I still had him nearly backed against, then reached past him for the knob. Pulling the door shut took some force, and the wooden panel creaked out a protest. But the door tightly closed and secured the belt strap in place, leaving him with only a few inches of slack.
Morgan’s eyes widened slightly, at first, mostly in what seemed to be confusion as he tried to figure out what was happening. He went to lower his hands from the position I’d just secured them in, and his breath began to come faster as he realized they were now bound above his head and wouldn’t move more than inch.
“I told you, didn’t I?” I asked, my voice more firm than before as I stepped up to him, ran my hands over his body. “I needed to punish you, and to make sure you couldn’t disobey me anymore.” Nails across his chest, circling his nipples, then down and across his abs before returning.
His broad, muscular chest heaved with great, sucking breaths under my touch, and I paused, let my nails continue to trace over his flesh.
“You know the word,” I whispered. “If you’re uncomfortable, or you just have to get up in the morning, or any other reason you want, this stops. There’s no shame in walking away, and there won’t be any hard feelings.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I said, lifting my eyes to his, even as my hands continued to run over him. “But, I’m having still fun. Aren’t you?”
“You’re not the one tied up.”
“Not right now, I’m not,” I replied with a smile and a bite of my lower lip.
Something flickered in his eyes, and I went to head that fantasy off at the pass before he became too invested in a future that wouldn’t ever happen. Not with him, and not with any man.
“Not that you should bet on us ever having a second time together, of course. But, it’s up to you. I’ll stop now. Just say the word.”
His gaze held mine, and I could see the wheels of indecision spinning, turning, grinding away. Was this the bridge too far for him? Or would he cross this span like so many he’d probably already crossed in his life?
Finally, he nodded.
Again, I bit my lower lip at the reciprocal desire I saw in his eyes. He wanted this. Wanted tonight just as much as I did. Wanted tonight so badly, he was able to push past the worry and slight embarrassment he felt as being put in such a compromising position by a strange woman.
“Good,” I said, my voice so weighed down by lust and want that my words had quieted to no more than a husky whisper. Kissing his chest, then his abs, I began to lower myself down his body. Smelling him, tasting him, feeling him, I took in his muscular, tied, heavy-breathing frame.
“Because every inch of you has been delicious so far,” I continued between kisses and strokes of my tongue, my fingers finding the waistband of his boxer briefs and beginning to pull down. “And I can’t wait to get to the rest.”
Balancing on my heels, I lowered myself into a squat before him. Eyes on his, I began to draw down his twill pants.
Eyes half-lidded and lips parted, his chest now rose and fell with a steadier, more subdued pace. Good. Very good. Now that we were getting to the rest of the game, he was starting to relax and enjoy himself.
And, I won’t lie. So was I, especially as I slid down his boxer briefs and revealed my prize. “Oh,” I said, my voice slurring with sudden lust, “you have been holding out on me, haven’t you?”
