“Just do what I said!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing on
me. “I’m on vacation. I don’t want to be dealing with this right now.”
I sank to my knees in front of him, looking at the
ground. His hand instinctively moved into my hair, his grip tightening. The
person on the other line was speaking rapidly, but Dallon cut him off roughly.
“Fuck, Roth, I’ve got to go.” He exhaled roughly and tugged
my ponytail, tilting my face up to look at him. “What are you doing?”
I swallowed hard at the tone of his voice. Maybe this
was a bad idea. Maybe he wanted to say when. I closed my eyes.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered.
And you of me
.
“Look at me.”
I met his eyes again. He was breathing heavily, his grip
tight in my hair. “Is this what you want?”
I licked my lips. There was no turning back now—I’d made
the decision as soon as I’d gone on my knees in front of him.
I nodded, still unable to speak.
Dallon made a low groan and released me. I instantly
looked back at the ground, my heart thumping for a way out of my chest. Above
me, he began loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I waited with
anticipation, my palms wet against my thighs. He put his tie over my head,
tightening it around my neck in a swift but gentle motion. It fell between my
breasts and ended between my legs.
“You’re giving yourself to me.” It was a statement.
I nodded again.
“Answer me,” he snapped.
“Yes.” I rushed to add, “Sir.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” His eyes burned into mine. “What we’re going to
do is called a session. When we’re in a session, you will remember that you are
mine and do what I say. This is not real life. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
My mouth was completely dry. I would have given anything
for a glass of water, but I was too afraid to ask. I could feel his eyes on me,
drinking me in.
“Look at me, Amy. I won’t ask again.”
I lifted my head. His gaze was scorching, assessing me
intently, but his eyes softened as he reached out to touch my cheek. When he
spoke, his tone was gentler.
“My desire is not to hurt you, but I will if I have to.
Understood?”
I nodded. “I understand.”
With a gentle tug on the tie, Dallon instructed me to
stand. I did, my legs surprisingly strong. I was ready.
Leading me with the tie, we went into the bedroom, where
he placed his beer on the night table, sat on the bed and stood me between his
legs. It reminded me of the first time we’d slept together.
“I love that you did this,” he said softly, running his
fingers lightly from my breasts down to my abdomen. My groin clenched in
response. “It means more to me than you know.”
He palmed my breasts, teasing my hardened nipples with
his thumbs. “I don’t have to feel between your legs to know that you are incredibly
aroused right now; I saw it when you were kneeling at my feet.”
I bit my lip and he released it with his thumb, shaking
his head slowly. His eyes never leaving mine, he reached for the beer bottle,
draining it in a long sip. I gasped as he moved it between my legs, running it
along my cleft. The bottle was still cold. I was wound up so tight, I couldn’t
help but rub myself against it.
Catching myself, I stopped, my cheeks heating. Dallon
smirked, wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me. Dipping his head, he took
my right nipple in his mouth, biting gently before whispering in my ear.
“Keep going. I want you to.”
Encouraged, I moved my hips again, rubbing my wet cleft
shamelessly. It felt wrong to be using the bottle as a way to pleasure myself
in front of him.
“Tug your nipples,” he instructed, his voice lower than
usual.
I obeyed, and the bottle slipped inside me. I moaned as
he moved it in and out, his lips brushing against my neck.
“Tug them harder. Just enough that it hurts a little
bit.”
I inhaled sharply and in my distraction, his hand moved,
and the bottle was pressed against my other opening.
I stiffened. “Don’t. Please.”
“Did I say you could stop touching your nipples?” he
asked icily.
“No, Sir.”
He smiled and pushed the bottle further so that it was
forcing me open.
“You can stop touching your nipples now, Amy.”
I instantly wrapped my arms around him, seeking comfort
from the person causing me the discomfort. It was a strange revelation.
“It won’t hurt,” he whispered in my ear. “Trust me.”
My breathing started coming out shallow, and I pressed
my face into his neck.
“Relax, baby. Show me how you can let go.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his
shoulder, surrendering. Carefully, he pushed the bottle into the opening, and I
whimpered. It hurt, but it also felt good. He paused to let me get used to the
feeling, and then pushed it a little deeper. The feeling was so foreign, so
naughty, and for some reason… really good. Fear and excitement combined for a
heady aphrodisiac.
“You’re doing so well. Just feel it.”
Dallon pulled back slightly and our eyes locked, a look
of warning in his. He wasn’t breathing. One more push, and I was filled to the
hilt.
A slow, salacious smile appeared on his lips. “Good
girl. I’m proud of you.”
Before I could entirely get a grasp on the sensation, Dallon
was moving me. I cried out as he entered me from behind. The feeling of
fullness was beyond anything I’d ever felt before. I could barely hold myself
up on all fours and grasped a pillow, moving it under me for support.
“You like having a bottle in your ass, don’t you, Amy?”
“Yes,” I groaned, unable to deny it as I tightened
around him. I was already well on my way to coming.
He smacked me across my backside and I cried out,
surprised and angry.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whimpered.
I felt his triumph as he began to thrust into me again.
He reached in front of me and grabbed the tie. His grip was loose but firm, a
reminder to me that he was the one in control. Not just with my body, but with
my breath.
“You
love
this. Your hot little cunt is so
tight.”
Dallon’s crude words washed over me, and I moved faster
with him, desperate to reach my climax. My body was achingly aware of how I was
being treated, and it just worked to make me hotter.
“You can’t go long without me inside you. Can you, Amy?”
“No, Sir,” I panted.
“You exist to take my dick, and only mine. You’re mine.”
His fingers traveled between my legs, carrying my
wetness up and down, coating me with it. I shuddered, past the edge now, my
body no longer warring with my mind—I had lost all sense of self, surrendered
completely to him.
“Tell me that you belong to me.”
“I belong to you,” I said without hesitation.
Dallon groaned. “Your pussy is so fucking wet. You love
bending over for me. Feel how wet you are.”
His fingers moved to my back, spreading my wetness down
my spine to my bum.
“You’re my naughty girl. I should pull out and mark
you.”
I collapsed fully onto the pillow, my body beginning to
shake with the first signs of orgasm.
“Admit it, Amy. Admit that you love submitting to me,
that all you want is to do what I say.”
“I admit it. I want that.”
Unable to hold on any longer, I came loudly, my body
clenching and unclenching in both areas at once, greedily milking him for all
his worth. With a slight yank of the tie, my head was pulled back, and Dallon
came as well, shouting his release through clenched teeth.
He pulled out of me swiftly and then I was in his lap. I
was spent, all four limbs jelly and gloriously satiated, and I couldn’t deny
it—that was the best orgasm I’d ever had. Dallon was right; nothing compared to
the relief of giving up control. I snuggled deeper into his chest, and that’s
when I remembered.
“The bottle.”
“I removed it when I came.”
I buried my face in his chest hair, embarrassed now that
I was no longer lost in the spell.
“Hey.” Dallon grasped my chin and forced me to look at
him. “None of that. No regrets. Promise?”
I nodded but hid my face again.
He sighed and brushed my hair with his fingers. “Thank
you for that, Amy. Thank you for everything.”
Dallon carried me into the bathroom and set me on my
feet before turning on the Jacuzzi tub. Then he grabbed a bottle of bubble bath
off the vanity, poured it into the running water.
“You like bubble baths,” I said softly.
“I know
you
like bubble baths,” he corrected.
“What, bubble baths aren’t manly?”
He chuckled. “There’s my girl again. Get in.”
Thankfully, I stepped into the warm water, and Dallon
stepped in after me. The tub was triangular shaped with more than enough room
for both of us.
“I’ll wash you.”
He pulled the spray head out of its holder, and our eyes
met. A slow smirk spread across his lips and I blushed, knowing we were both
remembering his earlier threat. After what had happened earlier, I no longer
doubted his resolve.
“You’re lucky I’m pleased with you. Turn around.”
Resisting the urge to call him bossy, I complied. First
he wet my hair, putting the hose away while he lathered me with body wash, and
then massaged shampoo into my scalp, his fingers kneading and sending
delightful shivers down my back. I tilted my head back for him to spray my hair
and then my back.
“I want to wash you,” I said, taking the hose from him.
With a small smile Dallon turned, giving me access to
his back. He was much larger than me, his back completely blocking my view, and
I had to climb onto my knees to shampoo his hair. There was something
empowering about knowing that I was taking care of him too, and that no one
else had seen him this vulnerable in a long time, if ever. I could be confident
of that, knowing what he’d said about me being only his second girlfriend.
“Have you ever been a submissive?” I asked as I moved
the spray head down his back.
He stiffened. Reached out and shut off the faucet before
grasping the spray head and removing it from my hand.
“No. Nor do I plan to.”
I pouted. Things had been going well, and I’d gone and
ruined the moment for a second time tonight. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to offend
you.” But even as I said the words, the indignation rose up within me.
He would never do it, but he wants me to do it.
“Stop worrying your lip,” he snapped. “I can tell you’re
overthinking things again, and it’s not what you think. I just need something
different than you.”
I searched my mind for ways to explore that without
making it sound like an interrogation. My fingers knotted and unknotted
nervously.
“I feel safe when you’re in control,” I said, glancing
up at him.
His eyes softened and he pulled me into his embrace. Our
legs stretched into the apex of the triangle, but unlike his, my feet didn’t
reach the edge of the tub.
“I know you do, and that’s what I’d hoped. I feel safe
when I’m in control.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t want you to run.”
I frowned. “I’m not going to run.”
“It’s a fine line. Control makes me feel… stable, but at
the same time, it could drive you away.”
“It won’t,” I said determinedly.
He pressed his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply. “You
smell so good.”
“So do you.”
I shifted slightly, running my fingers along his right
leg. “I’d love to go to Australia with you, if you’ll still have me after I
acted like a jerk.” I was suddenly afraid that he might call me ungrateful and
turn me away. “I have always wanted to go, and it would be a dream. Especially
with you because…”
I faltered, afraid to voice what I wanted to say,
relieved that he couldn’t see my face as my cheeks stained pink. I peeked over
my shoulder to see him smirking, his equilibrium apparently restored.
“It’s okay. I get it. I feel the same way.”
I exhaled in a rush, moving to the other side of the
bath so I could see him.
“Truth be told,” he continued, “I’ve always wanted to go
as well. Going with you is an added bonus.”
He was beaming now, and it was because he was going with
me. I hugged myself a little, overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude, and still
wondering how I got so lucky.
Sunday morning we did the obligatory carriage ride and
then toured the Mercer House as well as some other heritage houses. We spent
the rest of the afternoon exploring the streets and taking pictures. Savannah
had such a rich feel. Artists in our own right, both Dallon and I could
appreciate its history and beauty.