Aleena
Yes!
Hell yes!
A gazillion, yes!
“Yes,” I breathed.
It was the most honest word I had ever spoken.
My skin felt hot, desperate for his touch, for the proof of his control.
I waited, eyes wide behind the mask, my entire body coiled in submission.
But he had other plans, he reached out, and took a thick silver chain that lay coiled on the table next to the chaise.
Then, he walked around the chaise, stopping behind me.
Instead of securing the chain around my wrist or neck, he used the tip of the chain to lightly graze the exposed skin of my shoulder—a feather-light, almost tormenting touch.
“I don’t want a chained girl tonight, little doll,” he murmured, the sound closer now, whispering into the shell of my ear.
The heat of his breath made me shiver.
“I want to see you take yourself apart for me.”
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered, twisting slightly to try and see his face.
He pressed a finger firmly to the middle of my back, urging me to stay still.
“I want to watch you come apart for me and in plain words, I want you to fuck yourself while I watch.”
Was it possible for just words to turn to on?
“Now,” he said.
“Take the hem of your dress.
Slowly.”
My fingers, trembling violently, reached for the barely-there fabric clinging to my thigh.
I pulled it up, inch by inch, revealing more and more of my bare skin to the low, red light.
I felt a dizzying rush of power and vulnerability as I watched him watch me.
“Good.
Now touch yourself, where you want me the most.”
My entire body was shaking now.
My pulse hammered everywhere—in my neck, my wrists, and most acutely, between my legs.
The thought of performing this ultimate act of intimacy—the very thing I did only in the dark, alone—for this beautiful, masked stranger was terrifying and unbelievably stimulating.
“Please..…” I whimpered.
My hand hesitated, hovering over the edge of my panties.
“Please Master” he corrected
“Please Master.” I said breathlessly
“You do not ask, little doll.
You obey.” His tone remained authoritative.
“And you look at me while you do it.
I want to see the moment your little world turns and desire is all you think of.”
I did as he told me to with a soft moan, I pushed my fingers into the folds of my heat.
The sensation was instantly overwhelming.
It was the deepest, most personal rebellion I could ever imagine.
My breathing became ragged.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the intensity, but he commanded immediately.
“Eyes open.
Look at me.
Show me what I do to you.”
My eyes snapped open, tears already stinging the corners.
I met his gaze, and saw him focused with absolute attention that was more thrilling than any physical touch.
It was intoxicating.
It was the purest form of being seen I had ever experienced.
I began to move my fingers, tentatively at first, then with increasing urgency, driven by the mounting pressure and the unwavering scrutiny of those blue eyes.
I wanted to come, to shatter, to be obliterated by the sensation, but more than that, I wanted his approval, his release.
A low, guttural moan escaped my lips.
“It hurts, please… I need…”
“Tell me what you need, kitten,” he commanded, the corner of his mouth curving slightly as he looked at me with gaze darkened with desire.
“I need you to let me finish!
Please, Master, let me come!” The words were a prayer, a sob of desperation.
“No,” he said simply.
He watched for what felt like an eternity, every rhythmic, self-inflicted stroke driving me further and further up the precipice.
I was whimpering, sobbing, begging, the sounds of my utter, humiliating need filling the quiet room.
My hips bucked, my back arched, my fingers dug into my own skin, but he held me there, suspended in a glorious, agonizing state of hyper-arousal.
It was stimulating, torturous, and utterly brilliant.
I had never felt so much, so fast.
Every nerve ending was singing.
I anticipated the shift, the moment he would decide I had suffered (or pleased) enough, the moment he would finally bridge the distance, take my hand away, and replace it with his own body.
I waited for the impact, the blissful release of being utterly and finally taken.
Just as the building pressure threatened to send me spiraling into an inevitable climax, the sound of a phone vibrating ripped through the intense silence.
He didn’t move immediately, his eyes still locked on mine, ignoring the sound.
I gasped, frozen in mid-stroke, tears blurring my vision.
Finally, with a growl that sounded annoyed, he reached into his inner suit pocket and glanced at the screen, and his expression changed
He lifted a single finger, signalling for me to stop.
“Wait here,” he commanded,
He moved out of the room, speaking in hushed, quick tones.
I could only hear fragments of the conversation as I slumped back onto the chaise, my body throbbing with a painful, unreleased tension, then he looked at me, “Don’t move, kitten or else there would be punishment.”
And I nodded, eager to please him.
I waited.
I sat exactly where he had left me, my body still singing with electric tension.
I watched the clock on the wall.
Midnight.
One AM.
Two AM.
He didn’t come back.
He was not coming back.
Did I do something wrong?
Was I not obedient enough?
Did I disgust him?
It was definitely not the last.
I had seen the way his hardness strained against his pants.
Lia came back to fetch me and asked how it was, and I flashed a fake smile and said it was everything I had ever imagined.
She giggled, happy that I had enjoyed myself.
I wore back my dress, trying to ignore my bruised ego, but the truth was inevitable, I was stood up.
On my birthday.
By my Dom.