Prince of vice, p.17
Prince of Vice, page 17
My desire for release grows stronger with every touch, every word. Primo seems to sense my need, and he asks, "Do you need to come, Isabella?"
"Yes, Sir," I breathe out, desperate for any relief.
He chuckles darkly. "You should have thought about that yesterday when you defied me."
With that, Primo leaves me aching and wanting as he circles to the front of me and climbs onto the bed. He reclines against the headboard, making himself comfortable. "You look absolutely lovely like this," he tells me, his eyes raking over my exposed body. "Good enough for me to stroke myself to."
As Primo removes his shirt, I'm mesmerized by the rippling muscles I've never seen before. Intricate tattoos adorn his skin, and I yearn to explore them. Leaning back, he begins to stroke his cock, his gaze never leaving mine.
"I'm sure you'd like to help, taste me, touch me," he taunts. "But I won't allow it. You'll remain bent over in punishment, yearning for my touch while I bring myself pleasure. You owe me this orgasm."
The raw honesty of his words sends a shiver down my spine, and I stand there, bent over and vulnerable, as he takes his own satisfaction. All the while, I'm left to ache and wonder when, or if, he'll finally grant me release.
"Look at you, Isabella," Primo murmurs as he continues to stroke himself, his voice a sultry whisper. "Dripping for me like the desperate little slut you are."
I'm acutely aware of the wetness between my legs, the evidence of my desire for him gathering and running down my thighs. My body trembles with need, but I remain bent over, my wrists bound by the leather cuffs, the spreader bar holding my legs apart.
"Such a beautiful sight," he taunts, his breathing growing ragged as he nears completion. "You're lucky I'm even considering giving you relief."
The filthy words only serve to fan the flames of my desire, making me yearn for the moment when he'll finally grant me the release I crave. My heart races as I watch him reach climax, his grip tightening on his cock as he spills into his palm.
"Open your mouth," he commands, moving toward me on the bed. His cum-coated hand hovers above my open lips, and I know what's expected of me.
"Clean it," he tells me, his voice heavy with authority. As I obediently suck his fingers clean, tasting his essence, I feel a sense of pride at the praise he bestows upon me.
"So beautiful,” he purrs, his eyes dark with lust. "Now that you've paid for your mistake, I may consider giving you a release. But you'll have to earn it, Isabella."
My entire being thrums with anticipation, and I find myself completely under his spell, ready and willing to do whatever he asks of me. "Yes, Sir," I breathe, my voice barely audible, yet filled with determination.
"Good girl," he says with a smile that holds equal parts menace and promise. "Let's see if you can truly prove yourself worthy of my touch."
As I stand there, bound and on display for Primo, I know that I will do whatever it takes to earn the pleasure he has the power to bestow upon me. His control over my body and mind is absolute, and I am more than willing to submit to his every desire.
Primo rises, his shirt discarded on the floor, revealing his sculpted chest and intricate tattoos. I ache to trace each line with my fingers, but he commands me with a stern voice. "Eyes forward." The unyielding authority in his tone leaves no room for objection.
"Yes, Sir," I murmur, swallowing my disobedience as I fix my gaze on the wall before me. My legs tremble beneath me, a mixture of desire and exhaustion threatening to give way.
"Your composure is impressive, Isabella," he praises, his strong hand petting my hair tenderly. The contrast between his dominance and gentle touch sends shivers down my spine. "But I sense reluctance. Do you need another lesson in obedience?"
"No, Sir," I breathe out, hoping my voice doesn't betray the longing that has taken root deep within me.
"Good girl." His approval warms me like a sunbeam caressing my skin. He retreats from my side, leaving me momentarily bereft of his presence. But when he returns, something new shrouds his intentions – a blindfold. With practiced hands, he ties it securely over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.
"Still green?" he asks, checking in with our established safeword system.
"Green," I confirm, surrendering my sight to him, trusting him implicitly.
A sudden rush of air announces his movement, and before I can comprehend his intention, I feel his powerful arms lift me effortlessly, draping me over his shoulder. My heart races as I dangle helplessly, completely at his mercy.
"I love the feeling of you this way, Isabella," he confesses, his voice a low growl. "So vulnerable, so helpless. As much as I'd revel in watching your body succumb to exhaustion, I'll grant your muscles respite."
His words send a mixture of relief and anticipation coursing through my veins. The gentle embrace of satin sheets greets me as he lays me on the bed, my body sinking into the luxurious fabric.
"Try to move," he orders, and I hear the unmistakable sound of chains rattling. My heart beats faster, knowing that I am now bound by both ankles and wrists to the bed, completely at his mercy. I squirm, testing the restraints, but they hold me fast.
“So needy,” Primo chuckles affectionately, and I feel a flush spread across my cheeks. "I will enjoy bringing you to climax...on my own terms."
My breath hitches, and in the darkness of my blindfold, I surrender myself to him, ready for whatever comes next.
My body trembles with anticipation as Primo's hands begin to explore my flesh once more, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive places that crave his touch. My entire being screams for release, but I know better than to ask outright.
"Tell me what you want, Isabella," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me hear your desires."
"Please, Sir," I gasp, my voice strained with need. "I'm desperate for release."
"Ah, so you're a pitiful whore who can't think of anything else but coming?" The teasing edge to his question sends a shiver down my spine.
"Yes," I admit, shame mingling with arousal.
"I love it when you're like this." His words fan the flames within me, and I struggle not to beg for more.
Suddenly, I hear the faint hum of vibrations, and I feel something clipped onto each of my nipples. "It's such a shame you can't see how beautiful you are adorned with butterfly vibrators," he tells me, and I bite my lip, trying to suppress a moan.
He tortures me with the varying speed of the vibrations, never allowing my body to find its rhythm, leaving me teetering on the precipice of ecstasy time and time again. Each denied climax only serves to stoke my desire further, until I can no longer keep quiet.
"Speak freely, Isabella," he commands, and I seize the opportunity, spilling forth a torrent of pleas and longing. As my desperation grows, his touch becomes bolder, finally massaging my breasts and grazing my clit.
"I need to taste you again, my filthy little lawyer," he growls, and I whimper in response. The sensation of his tongue on me is so much more intense now that I am blindfolded, my nipples still throbbing under the relentless vibrations. I feel myself teetering on the edge, but just as I am about to tumble into bliss, he slaps my tender flesh, and the stinging shock wrenches me back from the brink.
"Did you not learn your lesson, Isabella?" His voice is stern, but not unkind. "You came without permission yesterday. Are you too much of a dirty whore to contain yourself?"
"Please," I sob, my body wracked with need. "I want -" The words catch in my throat, but he knows, he always knows. "Your cock, Sir?" I offer hesitantly, hoping against hope that he will grant my wish.
"Too bad," he says, his tone almost gentle. "You don't deserve it yet. But you do deserve a release."
I gasp as the cold, unyielding dildo penetrates me, my body clenching around the intrusion. It's not what I want - it's not him - but the disappointment fades quickly when he starts thrusting it in and out of me at a relentless pace. The vibrations from the butterfly clips on my nipples send shivers across my entire body, and I moan with each stroke.
"Can... can I come, Sir?" I whimper, feeling my orgasm building, my muscles tensing in anticipation. I need this release.
"Ah, so you want my permission to come, is that it?" His voice teases, a hint of amusement in his tone. God, how I love his voice.
"Please, Sir," I beg, clutching at the chains that bind me, desperation lacing my voice. "I need to come so badly."
"Good girl," he finally concedes, and the words are like a key unlocking my cage. "You may come for me now."
The orgasm rips through me, making me scream his name as waves of pleasure crash over me. He continues to work the dildo inside me, coaxing every last shudder from my trembling form. When my vision clears and my breath returns, he tells me in a gentle voice, "That was beautiful, Isabella. But we're not done yet."
"Yes, Sir," I reply obediently, my heart soaring at his praise. I've made him proud, and that means everything to me.
He removes my blindfold, and as my eyes adjust to the soft light, I see him straddling me, his throbbing erection just inches from my face. He slaps my cheek gently with his cock, and I wait, eager to please but knowing better than to act without instruction.
"Such a good, patient slut," he murmurs, and I preen under the praise. "You may take me in your mouth now."
I eagerly open my lips and encircle his length with my tongue, savoring his taste as he slides deeper into my throat. He leans back and reaches for the vibrator, pressing it against my clit once more.
"Come again for me, Isabella," he commands, turning the speed up to its highest setting.
My body convulses at the sudden onslaught of sensations, and I moan around his cock as another orgasm builds within me. He fucks my face in a steady rhythm, driving me further and further toward the edge. Just as I feel myself spiraling out of control, he groans and comes down my throat, filling me with his essence.
The taste of him combined with the relentless assault on my senses pushes me over the edge once more, and I shatter into a million pieces, my second orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabella
Breathing heavily, Primo gazes down at me with a dark intensity that makes me shiver, despite the heat still lingering in my flushed skin. "You did such a good job sucking my cock and coming for your Dominant," he praises, his voice a velvety blend of satisfaction and command. I smile, feeling at ease and relaxed, even as I remember the filthy things we just engaged in.
"Thank you, Sir," I whisper, basking in his approval.
With gentle hands, Primo carefully releases me from my cuffs. The contrast between his firm grip during our scene and the tenderness he shows now is astonishing – it makes me feel cared for, protected. I watch him methodically put away all of his tools back into his closet, each item meticulously placed in its designated spot. It's a side of him I've never seen before, and I find it oddly endearing.
“You were amazing," he murmurs, extending a hand to help me up. His touch sends a current through me, coaxing me back to him so that I can relax in his arms. As he holds me close, I breathe in his scent – now a mix of leather, cologne, and sweat – and relish in the warmth of his embrace.
"Come, let me take care of you," Primo suggests, his eyes softening as he guides me toward the bathroom. We step into the bath together, the water hot and soothing against our skin. I sigh in contentment, sinking into the luxurious embrace of the fragrant water.
In the dimly lit room, Primo begins massaging my shoulders, his strong hands working wonders on my tense muscles. I melt under his skilled touch, my body relaxing and opening up to him. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a balm to the aches left behind by our passionate encounter.
"Your touch is incredible," I admit, leaning into him and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through me.
The warm water envelops me, soothing my tired muscles as Primo's strong hands glide across my body in the gentle massage. I close my eyes and let the fragrances of lavender and sandalwood intoxicate me, carrying me away to another plane of existence. A soft sigh escapes my lips, a testament to the tender care Primo is showering upon me.
"Tell me, Isabella," he murmurs in my ear, his breath hot against my skin, "what did you think of our scene tonight?"
I open my eyes, momentarily startled by the intimacy of the question. My heart races as I search for the right words, but honesty prevails. "It was wonderful," I confess, feeling my face flush with both pleasure and embarrassment. "I enjoyed myself very much."
"Is there anything you didn't like or would want to change?" Primo asks, his fingers continuing their sensual exploration of my body.
I shake my head, unable to think of anything that marred our delicious encounter. "Not that I can think of," I reply, then hesitate before adding, "But I do wonder... why didn't you fuck me?"
Primo chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling my ear. "I cannot wait to fuck you," he admits, his voice low and husky. As if to prove his point, his hand slips between my legs, his fingers sliding into my wetness. I gasp at the sudden intrusion, my body arching against his touch.
"Sex during our first scene together can overly complicate things," he explains, his fingers continuing their delicious invasion. But just as I feel myself succumbing to the waves of pleasure building within me, he slows his movements, leaving me wanting more.
"Always wanting and needy for me," he whispers, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "That's how I like you."
My body trembles with desire, my mind whirling at the implications of his words. "Open communication is important," he continues, his fingers still teasing me mercilessly. "We need to be honest about our wants and desires, and where they are or aren't being met."
"Did you have anything you'd like to change?" I ask, my voice breathy and pleading.
"You were marvelous," he replies, his tone sincere as he withdraws his fingers from my aching core. "All I want is to play with you more." His words ignite a fire within me, and despite the relaxation that fills me, I find myself hungering for him once more.
I take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the bath water envelop me as Primo's strong arms support me. The sensation of his fingers still lingers within me, leaving me craving more. He massages my shoulders and I lean into him, seeking comfort and solace.
"Primo," I murmur, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "I'm curious about something else." His hands pause in their ministrations, and he regards me with that intense gaze of his.
"What is it?" he asks, encouraging me to speak my mind.
"During our scene," I begin, my cheeks flushing at the memory, "you called me a brat. What did you mean by that?"
"Ah," Primo chuckles softly, resuming his massage, "a brat is someone in the BDSM world who enjoys teasing and challenging their Dominant, often pushing boundaries to elicit reactions or punishments."
"And what are your thoughts on that?" I inquire, genuinely curious about his preferences.
He sighs thoughtfully, his fingers tracing circles along my spine. "I'm not particularly fond of bratting. I prefer a partner who willingly submits to me, without trying to test my resolve."
His words settle like a warm blanket around me, affirming our compatibility and shared desires. We seem to fit together like puzzle pieces, our edges aligning in ways I never imagined possible.
"Would you like to continue this exploration together?" he asks, his voice gentle yet commanding.
"Absolutely," I reply without hesitation, my heart swelling with excitement and anticipation.
"Good," he purrs, pulling me closer to his chest. "Now, let me tell you more about dynamics and how we can build ours together."
As Primo speaks, I drink in every word, eager to learn from him. He explains that our dynamic will be unlike any typical relationship, as it requires an extreme level of trust between us. While many people are content with surface-level connections, we will delve deeper, trusting each other implicitly during our most vulnerable moments.
"Sub space," he says, "is a state of mind where you feel incredibly relaxed and suggestible. You've likely already experienced it."
I nod in agreement, recalling the heady sensation that washed over me earlier, leaving me pliant and eager to please.
"However," Primo cautions, his voice growing serious, "we must be careful not to fall into the trap of sub frenzy. Honesty, both in and out of the bedroom, is key to maintaining a healthy dynamic."
The flickering candlelight casts shadows on the walls, setting the mood for an honest conversation.
"Primo," I begin hesitantly, feeling my pulse quicken in anticipation, "there's something I haven't been completely honest about."
His strong hands pause on my back, and he looks at me with genuine concern. "What is it?"
I swallow hard, struggling to put my fears into words. "Even though I've always said I'm confident in my strategy and skills for the trial, the truth is... I'm really nervous. I know I'm smarter than the people on the other side, but there's so much at stake, and it terrifies me."
As I confess my deepest insecurities, Primo listens intently, his eyes never leaving mine. When I finish speaking, he smiles softly, his fingers resuming their gentle movements on my body.
"I had a feeling you were holding back self-doubt," he admits, his voice soothing and reassuring. "But that's okay. It's natural to be nervous, especially when so much is on the line. I'm glad you shared your concerns with me, and I want you to know that I have complete faith in you."
His words wash over me, easing the tight knot of anxiety in my chest. As we continue to soak in the bathtub, our thoughts melding together, I realize how important honesty is in our newfound relationship.
Eventually, the water begins to cool, and we reluctantly leave the sanctuary of the bath. I reach for my clothes, eager to cover my nakedness, but Primo stops me with a gentle touch.
