Page 22 of House of Sin
“You love this, don’t you? Getting your skin striped while your cock begs for more.”
By the tenth strike, his body was a canvas of welts and bruises, trembling under the assault, but he held position, eyes never leaving the reflection. I paused, breathing heavy, my own pussy aching with wetness, clit pulsing from the power rush.
Dropping to my knees before him, I met his gaze in the mirror. “Watch me fuck myself,” I moaned, as my hand slid up my thigh, pushing aside my skirt to expose my pussy, lips swollen and slick. Fingers parted my folds, dipping into the heat, coating themselves in my arousal before circling my clit. “See how wet you make me? How badly I need you inside me?”
He whimpered, and the sound vibrated straight to my core, making me throb. I pinched my nipple with my free hand, rolling it roughly, tugging until it burned, all while my other fingers plunged deeper, fucking myself, the wet squelch echoing in the room. His hands clenched at his sides, desperate, struggling to hold back. I wanted the collapse, the surrender, Iwantedeverythingfrom him . . . and he was going to give it to me.
“Beg,” I commanded, my voice husky as I edged closer. “Beg for it, and then maybe I’ll let you come.”
“Please,” he groaned, voice raw. "I need it—fuck, please."
I let my lips curl into a smile while looking up at him. It was a small victory, a deliciously sweet one. He was beautiful like this—flushed, restrained, caught between pleasure and uncertainty, and I savored the way his pulse fluttered beneath the surface, as though seeking permission to race.
“Good boy,” I purred, standing slowly. With a firm hand on his chest, I pushed him back onto the chaise until I towered above him, taking his wrists in my hands and lifting them above his head. His arms stretched, obedient, offering themselves up without hesitation. I reached behind; fingers finding the loop in the binding and pulled the strap tight around his wrists. The leather kissed his skin as it cinched closed, just tight enough to anchor him in place, to make every twitch a reminder of his choice, while leaving his nerves alive and humming with anticipation.
“Too tight?” I asked
He shook his head.
“Good.”
The candle waited beside the chaise; its thick beeswax body bowed from prior use. I lifted it carefully, the flame trembling in the draft of my movement, casting dancing shadows that licked across his exposed skin. Tilting the candle just so, I watched the first molten drop gather at the edge, swelling until it broke free and plummeted. It landed on his chest in a golden bead, sizzling as the heat seared his flesh, a blooming sting that drew a ragged gasp from his lips. His body jerked against the leather straps, muscles tensing in the bonds, but he held still, eyes locked on mine with a mix of shock and hunger.
The wax cooled almost instantly, hardening into a fragile seal over his skin. I pressed my thumb into the softening edge, feeling the warmth under my touch, and smeared it slowly across his chest, marking him. "Pain clarifies devotion," I whispered, watching the way his breath fractured in response.
His nipples tightened under the lingering heat, chest rising and falling in quick rhythm, and I tracedthe wax's path with my gaze, noting how it accentuated the rapid thrum of his pulse. Another drop followed, this one trailing lower, toward the taut line of his abdomen, promising more exquisite torments to come.
“Still with me?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My smile sharpened. “Good boy. Now fuck me.”
Straddling his lap, I positioned myself over his cock, the head nudging my entrance, slick with my arousal. “Suck,” I ordered, shoving one breast into his mouth. His lips latched on eagerly, tongue lashing my nipple, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks down my spine. “Yes!” I moaned, sinking down slowly, inch by torturous inch, his thick cock stretching my pussy, filling me completely. The burn was exquisite—his girth splitting me open, veins dragging against my inner ridges as I bottomed out, my ass slapping against his thighs.
My eyes moved to the mirror. “Look at yourself,” I ordered, ensuring his gaze returned to the mirror where candlelight flickered across his skin, across leather, across the thin ribbons of hardened wax tracinghis chest. “Look at what obedience does for you.” He was the perfect picture of surrender.
“Beautiful,” I whispered as the mirror caught every motion: the brush of my fingers, the arch in my back, the flash of control that turned me into something holy and dangerous. It was power made flesh.
I rode him hard, my fingers tangled deep in his hair, grinding my clit against his pubic bone with every upward pull, then slamming down to take him deep. His eyes started to roll back and I had to remind him that his only job was to watch. “Don't take your eyes off us,” I growled, grabbing his chin to force his eyes to the mirror. We watched—me impaled on him, breasts bouncing, pussy lips gripping his shaft as it moved in and out, coated in me. His bound hands flexed uselessly above him, hips thrusting up to meet me.
“Watch me devour your dick." I gasped, planting my feet flat on the cushion for solid leverage. My hands gripped my knees, fingers digging deep into skin as I bounced faster, thighs burning with the strain.
I leaned in and bit his lower lip, teeth sinking in until he bucked wildly inside me, the pain fueling his desperation. My pace quickened, inner muscles clenching around his cock, milking him as tension coiled in my belly.
"Oh my fucking god!" He panted around my nipple, voice muffled and frantic as he sucked harder,tongue swirling wildly while I shattered. An orgasm ripped through me, my body convulsing as I gushed around his thick length in hot spurts.
“Fuck, yes—cum for me!” I cried, nails raking his wax-marked chest, drawing thin lines of blood that mingled with sweat.
He followed a heartbeat later, his entire body arching beneath me, our cries rising together. I stayed on top of him, panting, still pulsing around him as the last tremors of our release faded into the heavy silence. The room buzzed with heat, with sex, with a well-earned heady satisfaction. My thighs ached; my lips were swollen from too much kissing. And I was still starving.
I slowly got up, turned toward the mirror across from the chaise lounge, and met my own reflection. Hair wild, lipstick smeared, skin flushed and glistening, I looked feral, dangerous, divine even.Holy hell,I thought, watching the slow rise and fall of my chest.No wonder they keep coming back.
Behind me, he groaned softly, a sound that was half pleasure, half surrender. He was completely wrecked, and I loved it. Leaning down, I traced a slow kissalong his jaw, savoring the way he flinched beneath the gentleness. “You were fun,” I whispered.
I stood, adjusting my corset, running my fingers through my hair like nothing about me had just been laid bare. I faced forward, refusing to look back until I reached the door.
“Thanks for the release, darlin’,” I said with a satisfied grin.
