He decided to help by moving his hands to rest on her upper, inner thighs. That her body stilled under his touch pleased him and he licked her slit from bottom to top, dragging the tip of his tongue so it barely pushed inside.
“So wet already, slave?” he teased. “Did your Master not fuck you enough the first time?”
She didn’t budge when she answered, “I can’t help it, Sir. What you do to my body.”
He gave her another lick. “That pleases me. Firstly, because you have such a strong reaction to me. Secondly, it ensures you’re prepared should I decide I want to use you. You’re so wet, I wouldn’t have any trouble sliding my cock deep inside your hot fuck hole.”
Her only reply was a heavy exhale through her nose.
“Right now, though, I just want to eat it.”
And with that, he stopped talking and simply enjoyed her. He teased and nibbled and sucked, savoring her taste, but more than that, delighting in the soft noises she made and the obvious effort she spent remaining still. He doubled his actions, sucking her clit and running his tongue over it.
Her legs started shaking again and, just to be evil, he thrust two fingers inside her. “Nope. Wouldn’t have any trouble at all. In fact, my cock does need relief. So be a good slave and stay still whilst I shag you and maybe I’ll let you come again.”
• • •
Just about every part of her body below the waist ached. Even after taking two ibuprofens and another soothing massage from Cole, there remained a pleasant awareness of how she’d spent the better part of the afternoon.
Her mind replayed what Julie had said about being his sex slave, but Sasha didn’t feel used. Even when he was taking his own pleasure, Cole watched her with such intensity and focus, she felt protected and cared for. And if the earth-shattering orgasms weren’t enough, whenever they finished, he would hold her close to his chest for a long time.
He’d brought the black lingerie back up the stairs and told her to put it on. She had twenty minutes before she had to be in his office. Putting the lacy panties on, she told herself it wouldn’t always be as good as it’d been today. What she was experiencing now was the honeymoon period of her slave training. She had to think that way, or else she’d never want to leave.
She brushed her teeth again. Cole had made her clean him after he’d taken her in his bed. She’d thought that after coming in both the kitchen and the bedroom, he’d need time to recover. He’d laughed at her surprise when he grew hard again in her mouth. He didn’t finish, though. Instead he’d told her to clean up and meet him in his office.
He was sitting at his desk when she entered, minutes later. His glasses were perched haphazardly on his nose and he frowned at something on his laptop. Not wanting to disturb him, she knelt in the middle of the room.
“By my side, Sasha,” he said, without looking up.
Unexpectedly pleased at his request, she started to stand.
“Crawl.” He still hadn’t looked up from his computer.
She froze, slightly caught off guard by his request. She’d crawled in play before, but they weren’t currently in a scene.
Except she was in a scene all day, every day, for the next two weeks.
She crawled as quickly as possible to his side and knelt beside his chair with her head bowed. As soon as she stilled herself, his hand fisted her hair.
“You hesitated.”
Denial danced on her lips. Or an excuse. If she thought really fast, she could probably come up with several good ones. But her heart raced as she realized the truth and knew there was only one thing to do.
“I did, Sir.” The fingers in her hair tightened and she added, “I’m sorry.”
“I had planned for us to spend the evening relaxing, perhaps watching a movie. Now, however, I feel your time would be better spent writing one thousand words on crawling, its symbolism, and its meaning.”
She dug her nails into her upper thighs. No! she wanted to yell. She wanted to spend the evening with him, watching a movie, not working on a stupid writing assignment. But the hand on her head reminded her of her purpose in being in his house and she replied with, “Yes, Sir.”
“In the last sentence I spoke, did the word its have an apostrophe or not?”
What the fuck? Where did that come from?
“No apostrophe, Sir.”
“Very nice, little one. I expect no improper word usage tonight, but you should know that this time, I won’t have you recite dirty sentences.” She didn’t have time to be relieved before he added, “I’ll be the one coming up with the sentences, and you’ll have to act them out.”
And his sentences would be evil and wicked. While she thoroughly enjoyed that side of him, she had a feeling she probably shouldn’t goad him. “I understand, Sir.”
His hand left her head and she assumed he went back to work. Why then had he requested her to come to the office if he wasn’t going to say or do anything? She thought about all the other things she could be doing, but then stopped short. Here at Cole’s house, there wasn’t much for her to do.
She reminded herself, once again, that she was getting a taste of what it was like to be a slave. She should be thinking about how to please her Master—something she’d messed up on minutes before.
Maybe if she thought through what she was going to write on crawling, it wouldn’t take her that long to complete and they could still spend the evening together. Although, he might be working. He certainly seemed engrossed at the moment.
The room had grown noticeably darker before he pushed back in his chair. “Sometimes the simple presence of another person makes all the difference. I enjoyed having you in the room with me as I caught up on a few items, little one. So much so, I think we’ll make this a regular occurrence.”
She tried to cover her shock at his revelation and felt a little prideful that she’d made a difference. “Of course, Sir.”
“Come sit in my lap.”
He held out a hand and helped her to straddle his lap, facing him. He ran a finger down her cheek. “You look beautiful in black lace, but I think tomorrow I want you naked all day.”
She swallowed. She’d expected to spend time naked, but hadn’t planned on spending the entire day naked. Not on the second day.
“Yes,” he mused. “I think I’ll display you like a fine piece of art. Perhaps on a table. I can appreciate your beauty as I work, all the while imagining all the sordid things I want to do to your body. And then, when I finish for the day, I’ll write them all down and have you pick one.”