Velvety soft lips tantalize my skin, skimming across my belly. I yearn for more. Achingly, I arch into him, greedy for a heavier touch. A yank on the silk binding my wrists is my reminder I am not in control. Everything that happens is by his will alone. I exist to please him, and for now that means standing still while he traces butterfly kisses over my belly.
But I ache for his mouth to travel lower, for his teeth to pull my thong off my hips and expose my tender flesh to the ravages of his talented tongue. I know what he can do to me, yet he withholds pleasure, teasing with this light touch. The silk tightens further. My hands are drawn tight on top of each other.
An unbearable aching builds within me and I cry out. “Please.”
Lips on my belly, his gaze flicks up. “Please what?”
My lower lip trembles, and I shift my feet, pressing my thighs together, as if that might soothe the tension between my legs. It does not.
The corner of his mouth quirks up in a knowing grin.
“Please, Sir, I need you to touch me.”
“Then, get the whip, like I asked.”
A sob escapes me. I don’t like the whip, but he won’t give me release until his needs are satisfied. Another butterfly kiss throws me over the edge. I’ll go crazy if he doesn’t touch me soon, and he knows me all to well.
He drops the end of the silk, freeing my arms, then stands and waits.