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Chapter 3

“Such a fucking tease in those shorts pretty,” Byron comments. “You know I can see that little line when you bend down, where your thigh turns into your ass. Fucking delicious. Gives me a goddamn hard=on, just like you wanted, little slut..”

“Better,” Byron says, once my clothes are off. “Kneel down.” He points to the floor. I kneel obediently and clasp my hands behind my back like I think he wants.  He walks out and comes back holding … things. With straps. And metal things. Byron sets the metal things on the coffee table and begins fastening the straps around me. “These are ankle and wrist restraints,” he says. “They attach to a collar and keep you on your knees. I can tighten or loosen them. You’re not used to positions like this so I won’t keep them on long. But eventually, I will.” Another hint that Byron doesn’t mean for these games to happen once. Soon each of my wrists connects to the corresponding ankle with a light, padded cuff and nylon webbing; each wrist clips to a padded collar around my neck. I thought they might scare me but instead I feel weirdly comforted. Safe. Almost lulled into something. I look up at Byron and know my eyes probably look a little wide, dazed.

“Oh. that’s pretty,” Byron says. “That’s so pretty. I might have to fuck you in those.”

He picks up the metal things he set on the coffee table: like tiny clips with chains dangling from them. Each chain has a tiny metal bead on the bottom. They look cute, like earrings. Byron takes one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls it back and forth; between that and the bondage, I can’t help but make a small pleased sound. Byron draws my nipple out into a stiff, rosy peak. Then he thumbs the other, pulls it out. Stands back. “Those look gorgeous. They’re about to look even better.” He pinches each of them between the metal clamps and screws them on, just a turn or two. My nipples feel as if they’re being pinched by a rather rough partner. I immediately feel myself get wetter. “Ten minutes,” Byron orders. “That’s for arguing and not being respectful.”

I let another soft, pleased moan slip out. I can’t help it.

“None of that, pretty,” he says. ‘Quiet or I’ll tape your mouth.”

I shut up.

Byron flicks on the TV and ignores me. He watches music videos on youtube. Ashbury Heights. Marilyn Manson.

“Eyes on the floor,” he orders, when he sees me glance up. Well, fuck. I kneel, gets wetter and wetter at the pinching feeling in my nipples, at being slightly spread and unable to move. I wish Byron would touch me. I really, really wish Byron would touch me. He knows my pussy is getting soaked. Finally, finally, Byron flicks off the TV.

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you going to be disrespectful, pretty?”

“No, sir.”

“Remember, disrespectful isn’t asking for what you need. It’s not saying that you’re uncomfortable with something happening. It means speaking rudely and arguing and not using my proper title. Do you understand that difference? That’s very, very important,”

“Yes sir,” I say, almost dreamily. The restraints feel so good.

He takes the clamps off my nipples and palms me. God, after that, I wanted his hand on my pussy. “You’re easy, pretty,” he comments. “I don’t remember you being this easy in college. But I’m shocked your thighs aren’t slick.” He slips a finger into me and I do my best to control my breathing. “You want fucked now? You’re just as tight as you were at Princeton. I like it when girls come on my cock,” he says. “Tell me how close you are.”

I blink. He’s gently fucking his finger in and out of me, hitting that perfect spot every time. I can’t concentrate on anything. “Close-ish. Sir.”

“I want to watch you get yourself ready to come for me. Then I’m going to tie you up like this again, but on your belly. And I’m going to fuck you til you come, which is going to make me come hard. I know you’re on the pill and I know you want to take my whole cock, pretty slut. I haven’t come in forever. I’m trying to decide if I should shoot in your wet pussy or pull out and come all over it.”

Oh god. I’d take either one. Option A or option B, thankyouverymuch, as long as there’s an option on the fucking table.

He unclips the ties and walks me into the bedroom. He points to his neatly made bed — I have a vague memory of Byron making his bed every morning. “Get yourself ready to come for me,” he orders.

“Excuse me, sir,” I say. Oh god. This is so embarrassing.

“What, pretty?” he asks. “Was I unclear? Start to get yourself off. I want to watch.”

“I always use, um …” I feel myself coloring. Goddamn red hair and pale skin. Byron lifts my chin like before.

“You always use what?” he asks, a touch of silkiness in his voice.

“A vibrator,” I say. I want to look away but his dark eyes hold my blue ones. His look so intense, so focused on mine. I know mine probably seem slightly sleepy, my pupils blown with want and the high of his restraints.

He laughs. “That’s easy. I have a collection of toys.” Byron opens a drawer. “Pick one, little slut.”

I look and select one exactly like mine: not a vibrator, but a little device that fastens to your clit and sucks on it. A handheld bit of silicon magic. Christ, why the fuck does Byron have this? Did he bring women home for this regularly — I know he and Lucy had a semi-open relationship, though he didn’t talk about it. Did Lucy leave it here? Not the time to ask, or I’ll end up on my knees. Which would be its own kind of delicious but I want this toy and I want fucked.

He laughs again when he sees what I picked. “Oh, you want to go fast for me,” he says. “Good girl. Then I can fuck your mouth while you use it.”

I love having a man guide my mouth over his cock. I half-lie, half-sit on the pillows and turn the device on, and hold it over my clit. I gasp when it sucks onto me and begins working my most sensitive part. I know Byron’s watching. That, and the cuffs and collar, only make it better.

Byron takes his cock out of his khakis and kneels next to me. “Open your mouth,” he orders. I takes him all in this time. He grabs my shoulder-length hair and guides me along his cock, slowly at first, so I can use my tongue, then faster and faster. I’m soaking his bed; Byron’s going to murder me but this feels so goddamn good, this little toy sucking on me. He slows and palms my pussy. “Lay on the edge of the bed on your stomach,” he says. “I’m going to do the same thing I did before, but with you lying down. We both know the other’s clean and you’re on the pill. Normally I’d assume consent, but since this is the first time, are you okay with me fucking you?”

“Yes sir,” I say. “Please fuck me, sir. Please, please fuck me.”

“You just remember how big my cock is, little slut,” he teases. “You going to take the whole thing?”

“Yes sir. I want you to fuck me with it so bad, sir.”

“Hardly fits in your mouth. Don’t think I didn’t feel you almost gagging on it. How do you want it?”

“Excuse me, sir?” I don’t understand.

“I asked you how you wanted it.”

“Wanted what? Sir,” I add quickly. God, that takes some getting used to with Byron.

“How do you want my cock? What’s going to make you come for me?”

“Hard and fast, sir.” I know that much. None of this slow stuff. I want it hard and I want it now.

“Tell me if I hurt you, pretty. My hard and fast may be different from yours. And don’t feel the need to be quiet anymore. I want to hear you when I fuck you.” He holds his hand out for the toy and sets it on the table. “Let’s make this more fun for you,” he says. “Do you like things in your ass? Tell me the truth,” he warns. “Don’t be embarrassed one way or the other. I’ll find out sooner or later and I’ll be angry if you lied.”

Goddammit. Really, Byron? Do you have to? “Yes,” I say, and color. Again.  

“Good girl for telling me,” Byron strokes my hair a moment. “Get onto your belly for me like I asked, pretty. I’ll be right back.” I move to the edge of the bed, lie flat on my stomach. Byron returns. Efficiently, with the air of someone who’s done this before, he clips the restraints back together. I find myself tidily bound, ankle-wrist neck, knees bent, arms drawn back. My head lies sideways on the bed and my legs are spread for him. Suddenly, I feel cool lube at my ass, then Byron’s finger gently circling it. I can’t help but moan and anyway, he told me I could.  

“Oh, you do like that, don’t you, little slut? You like it when I touch your ass?” He strokes my small entrance, works his finger the slightest bit inside me. I sigh with pleasure. More lube. His finger slides deeper, then circles, stretching me. “Breathe, pretty,” he says. “Relax for me. That’s it. Good girl.” Another slick finger slips in next to the first, and they start fucking me gently. I raise my ass as much as I can in the restraints. Byron withdraws his fingers and I whine. “None of that, little slut,” he orders affectionately. I feel something cool move into me and almost purr. It’s only a little wider the Byron’s two fingers. “You like that, don’t you, pretty? That’ll feel good when I fuck you.” The middle finger of his other hand slides into my pussy and a deep, pleased sound escapes my throat.

“Good girl,” Byron says. “Nice and tight.” He pulls me closer until I lie at the very edge of the bed. I feel his bare cock nudging at my wet entrance. “Feel good, little slut? You still want this?”

“Yes sir. Please fuck me, sir,” I say. I can’t move to get a better angle. Byron sees me trying and laughs. Byron laughing at me, calling me a slut — I’d have decked him for it yesterday. Today it just arouses me more.

He slides his head inside me. I feel the precum dripping into me. “Like that?” he asks “Want more?”

“Please, sir,” I begs.

“How much more, little slut?”

“The whole thing, sir.”

Byron slides his cock into me slowly, as if he’s being careful not to hurt me. He knows how big he is, I realize. I spread my legs as wide as I can for him. I’m soaked around him, and his cock only makes me wetter; the plug in my ass shifts. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Get wetter on my dick.” He rocks in me a bit. “Does that feel good? Do you like my cock in you?”

“Yes, sir. Harder please, sir.”

“Like this?” He moves more quickly in me. Puts his hands on my hips. “I’m going to fuck you now, pretty. Ask me before you come on my cock. Are you going to come on my cock for me?”

“Yes, sir,” I say. I squirm as much as I can, the stimulation on my clit first and now my ass and  pussy combining to create a desperate need for release. My muscles are already tautening. But I’m restrained, relaxed into it: totally at his mercy, completely dependent on someone I trust utterly, free to let go completely. Byron holds my hips and fucks me hard, fast, god this feels sofuckinggood, his big, smooth cock hitting the perfect spot in my pussy. I feel myself start to teeter on the edge.

“May I come, please, sir?” I manage.

“Wait a moment, little slut. Your pussy feels too good.”

“Please,” I ask again, my whole body crying out for it. “I’m so close, sir.”

“Are you?” he says. “You like my cock that much?”

Please, sir.” I shake with the effort of stopping it.

“Then come for me, pretty. I want to feel it.”

He thrusts hard and I explode on him, shaking; the restraints intensify everything. I come hard, peaking, waves of pleasure making me clench Byron over and over. He shudders, pulls out, and spills hot all over my pussy, from my ass to my clit. So much of it, and so good, that wet heat, the stickiness.

Byron draws back when he finishes dripping on me. “That’s so hot, pretty” he comments. “Gorgeous pink pussy all swollen and slick and covered in come. I want to take a picture. Can I take a picture, little slut, to put in my phone so I can look at it later?”

I hesitate. But this is Byron, and my face won’t be in it. Also. the idea of Byron jerking off to a picture of my pussy turns me on — again. “Yes sir,” I say. He fusses, turns on some lights and aims them, then snaps several photos. He seems to be careful to get the restraints in the picture.

“Good girl,” he says. “So good, pretty. I hate to take these off you, but you shouldn’t be in them very long. You know where the shower is. I’ll bring you your clothes, and once you’re dressed, we’re done playing. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Byron takes the restraints off. I vaguely miss them. “I want to watch you shower now,” he says. “Tie your hair up so it doesn’t get wet and keep your makeup on.”

This isn’t impossible, but it’s a pain in the ass. I also resent the lack of privacy, since most of this involves rinsing off my pussy. “Yes sir,” I say. When I stand, I feel his come slick my thighs. Byron notices. “That’s gorgeous,” he says. “Can I take a picture?”

“Yes sir, please don’t put my face in it, sir.”

“Just your thighs, pretty.” His phone emerges again, and he positions me near the light, tells me how to spread my legs out while I stand. Snap, snap, snap. “Go shower now,” he orders.

True to his word, Byron leans against the counter and watches me through the sheer curtain. “One day, I’ll make you bring all your things over here, or we’ll go to your house, and you’ll give me a shower,” he says. “Wash me all over and suck me off until I come all over your tits.”

I bite back a smile and he laughs. “You’re easy,” he comments. “Never seen such a natural submissive, god. I am going to take you out to dinner. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

I think about it. “Yes sir,” I say, but somehow, this feels different than the normal Byron and Kit night out.

“Don’t worry,” he says, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “Regular night out. Except you get some special things to wear. Do you mind mixing real life and this? Tell me the truth.”

I think about it again. We’ve already irrevocably fucked this relationship six ways from Sunday, so what’s it matter? We can’t come back from this. It’ll always look different.  “No,” I say slowly. “I don’t think I mind mixing it. I’ll tell you to stop if it bothers me, sir.”

“Good. Take a break from this for a second though, Kit.” Byron’s posture changes; he stops leering. “You sure you don’t mind playing games in public?”

“Not with you.”

“I’m going to tease the hell out of you.”

“I’m aware.” I take the towel he holds out to me.

“I’m not going to be very nice about it.”

“I know.” I begin drying myself. Byron doesn’t watch.

“I’d want total control. I’d want to act like this was just us having a normal dinner, but I’d want to order for you, tell you what to wear, where to sit, everything. Are you alright with that? Complete control.”

I look up at him. “Byron. I told you I’m fine with it, and I meant it. It’s you. I trust you.” It’s like coming up for air. Letting go completely, totally giving herself over to someone I trust. I’ve never done anything like it. It feels, strangely, like freedom.

“And you promise, if it gets to be too much, you’ll stop me?”

“Yes. You know I will.”

He searches my face, and I can practically feel him thinking, judging. “I know you will,” he repeats. “Are you ready to play again, or do you want to take a break?”

I shrug. “I like playing games.”

“Yes or no, Kit. You always have to say yes or no.”


Byron stands up straight. “Put on your bra and tank top, pretty, and wait for me for a moment.”

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