Chapter 7

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Desperation.

Longing.

Anticipation.

Hunger.

Frustration.

Blindfolded and on her knees, she waits for her Master to touch her, to command her to touch him. To demand she open her mouth. Something. A wicked energy stirs within her as she's left there waiting, her juices tingle along her skin as they settle in her tight leather shorts. Felicity's pussy is clenching in need, but she knows better than to beg or even move. Her Top will punish her by denial, and she knows how it feels to want so desperately. Her mind burns at the idea of being denied; her entire body tingles knowing that her moment of sweet release is close at hand.

Every second feels like hours as he silently stands over her. His powerful presence looming, but no words are spoken, nor actions are taken. The stillness of the scene is like a silent movie, but even they at least had movement. Maybe more like an old fashion photo negative where you can see the figures, but they are lifeless in the blackness of the film.

"You are mine, Felicity. You will be broken by this game if you choose to play. First, that milquetoast photographer, then the other Tops sniffing after you in my club, and the fascination of Tasha. None of them can give you what you really want because they are not me."

Those cruel words tickle her ears like a soft feather. Instead of feeling that anger she knows should be present, she only feels more lust. Forcing herself not to move one muscle until he allows it, Felicity waits.

"Tell me, Kitten, who you belong to? For whom is your body screaming out? I can smell your desire, and you are dripping for me" Came the softly spoken facts. "Tell me." Though spoken softly, his words are a demand. "Speak the truth."

"You," she admits. "I belong to you. I need you. Please, please touch me. I am only yours." 

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