Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 464

Chapter 464: BDSM (R-18)

Her resistance was a forgotten memory. A final, ragged sob was torn from the depths of her.

"YOU!" she cried, the single word a final, total capitulation. "I NEED YOU!"

I looked at her then—at her flushed, tear-streaked face, at her body slick with sweat and straining against its beautiful restraints, at the sacred art I had created on her skin. She was free. Completely and utterly free.

I had unmade her, and in doing so, had set her free. And the sounds she made, the beautiful, desperate music of her surrender, were the most exquisite symphony I had ever heard.

Her desperate cries still echoed in the soundproofed room, the ghost of her surrender clinging to the air. I watched her, a beautiful, trembling thing bound to my frame, her body slick with sweat and the proof of her pleasure. She thought the peak had been reached. She had no idea we were still on the foothills.

I walked to the cabinet once more, my footsteps unhurried. Her head lifted, her eyes, though dazed, trying to follow me through a curtain of tangled hair. She saw what I had in my hands: a strip of black, heavy silk.

"No..." The whimper was thin, reedy. "No more... I can’t..."

"This isn’t about ’more,’ Dominique," I said softly, unfolding the blindfold.

"This is about everything." I approached her, and she flinched, turning her head away in a final, pathetic gesture of denial. I gently but firmly took her chin, turning her back to face me.

"Close your eyes."

I stopped. The silence was heavy. Her ass was a beautiful, uniform shade of crimson, hot to the touch.

I placed my palm gently against her marked flesh. The heat was incredible. She sobbed with relief. I began to knead and massage her sore skin, my touch a stark contrast to the sharp sting of the paddle.

My thumbs dug deep into the muscles of her glutes, and her sobs slowly turned into low, guttural moans of pleasure.

I let her stew in that darkness for a full minute. Let her listen. Let her wait. Her body tensed on the frame, a landmine of anticipation.

Then, I touched her. Not with my hand, but with the softest piece of chinchilla fur. I dragged it lightly across her collarbone. The reaction was instantaneous.

"Oh!" A soft, confused gasp. I traced it over the tops of her breasts, down her quivering stomach. A low, appreciative

"Mmmmm" rumbled in her chest. I let the fur drift lower, down her thigh, then back up, letting its tip just barely brush against the slick, swollen folds of her sex.

"Ah-ah-ah!" A sharp, panicked gasp. Her hips bucked, chasing the soft touch.

I smiled. Trust was being built with pleasure. And trust was the most effective weapon of all.

I withdrew the fur, and the lack of sensation made her whimper in protest. A second later, I put the feather back in my hand. I let its tip tickle the side of her ribs.

"A-AH!" She gasped, her entire body jerking as if she’d been shocked. The playful touch was gone, replaced by this maddening, precise teasing. I drew patterns across her stomach, and she began to squirm, her breath coming in panicked little pants.

"No... non... stop... please..." But her hips were lifting, chasing the sensation even as she begged it to stop.

I pumped them in and out, my thumb pressing against her clit. Her body, already overloaded, responded instantly. Her inner muscles clenched around my fingers. Just as she was about to cum, I stopped, pulling my fingers away.

The teasing was reaching its peak. It was time for a new lesson. I set down the feather and picked up a small bowl, a single cube of ice floating in water. I held it between my fingers, then I touched it to the heated skin of her inner thigh.

"Please! Eros! It’s too cold! Oh god, please!"

"EROS! EROSEEE!" she screamed, her pussy convulsing, a fresh gush of her cum coating my chin and dripping onto the leather.

"Mmmph..." a muffled, humiliated groan vibrated against my fingers as I made her clean them of her own arousal.

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