my girl to always be ready for me.”
Monica blinked away the dust from her eyes. “Yes, sir.” She had a free hand. She knew what to do. All I care about is that he won’t do what Jackson did.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking about right now.” Henry rubbed her bent knee before stepping toward the end of the bed. “But you don’t have anything to fear from me. I care about your pleasure. I also care about your discipline. You understand that you have to be disciplined?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. When I get back, I want to see you ready to be disciplined.”
He left, the door latching behind him once again. Monica exhaled a heavy breath and looked at the ceiling, her arm still tied behind her head and her mind full of conflicting thoughts.
Did she really trust Henry? In truth, she barely knew the man. They met a handful of times, had sex once, not counting the head the day before, and now were testing boundaries like they had been together for months. How stupid I am. Monica was too easy to trust. Too easy to get into relationships. What happened the last time she hopped into a relationship? I got caught up in Jackson’s world for almost ten years. A naïve college graduate who wanted to explore the world of BDSM more. I liked the taste I got with my first boyfriend. When Jackson offered her more? On a scale she could have never imagined? Riches beyond human comprehension? Every trick in the book? How could Monica say no back then?
So why wasn’t she saying no right now?
She lay there, for a few minutes, for a half hour, thinking about her lot in this relationship. This was what she thought she wanted. To serve. To submit. To be used once in a while. The idea of a man controlling half her life, taking charge and taking care of her, was all she cared about at the end of the day. She wanted him – whoever him was – to coddle her, to make love to her, to make her feel like the most wanted woman in the world. In return? I’ll make him feel like a king. There were many simple pleasures in life. There were also many extravagant pleasures. Monica wanted a healthy dose of both, and making a well-to-do man feel like that was a good representation. Just get through today.
Sexual pleasure. Flashbacks. Monica shouldn’t push her own boundaries and conflate the two, but here she was, tied up in Henry Warren’s bed waiting for him to do God knew what.
Monica imagined him pushing her down again, using her body for his own whims, and whispering into her ear what a filthy woman she was. Even without him touching her, Monica’s skin tingled at the thought of him spanking her, fingering her, and bringing her down onto his cock with promised relief. Sometimes she imagined him wearing that suit, his buttons undone but that material hugging his form with a hint of the forbidden fruit he carried for a sub like her. “Behave, and I’ll reward you.” Other times he was naked, his strong body steady as he pulled apart her legs and drove his cock into her. “My princess.”
She certainly felt like one. A princess locked away in a king’s tower, ready to be claimed by him. There was no queen in the castle yet, but if Monica pleased His Majesty, she may see a change in her fate yet.
Her hand hovered around her thigh. Without any idea of when Henry would return, Monica pressed her fingers against her slit and moaned into the pillow.
“What a beautiful sight for these sore eyes.” Henry’s voice wafted into Monica’s ear ten minutes later. “Not every man gets to come into his bedroom and see a lovely woman touch herself in anticipation of him.”
Monica said nothing, but she opened her eyes, gazing into Henry’s as he stood above her.
“You look… quite ready.” Henry’s hand hooked beneath her knee and lifted her leg into the air. Monica gasped, her slit open and bare to the cool bedroom air. I think I might be a bit wet. And now with Henry touching her again? His pants straining against a slight bulge