Wicked Games

Friday Fetch (2)

When he got back, her majesty was still sleeping. It was just 11:30 am. The meeting had ended rather early. And he did say noon, so he let her sleep for twenty minutes more. And exact ten minutes to noon, he saw his punctual self waking her up. And for once in her life, she did get up fast. And literally ran to freshen up.

She knew being late was not a good option. Especially when he had gotten things planned.

When she got into the living room, he sat on the sofa, not saying a single word, as she looked left and right, up and down, trying to figure out what he had gotten planned. There was no visible clue really, except the furniture being pushed away that he refused to comment on.

He beckoned her. She walked to him, as gracefully as she could muster. She never knew how unreasonable he could be when he switched to this mode; he could find fault in anything and everything. Last time it was posture. And she hated posture training. He was quite strict, even though what they played were just games of a different nature.

She made a move to kneel down, but then he shook his head at her, and held out his hand.

Perhaps kneeling down would have been better, she thought. It was vexing how he smoothly he could switch between his normal self who was quite gentle and his sadistic, dominant self.

She settled herself into his lap, still confused about what he had planned. He noticed it. He noticed everything.

"Nervous?" He smiled at her, gentle as ever, interlocking their fingers. His eyes however told another story.

"Should I be?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice was shaky. He was amused by her pretence of bravery. "A little", she conceded, and took comfort in holding their hands tighter. "Should I be?" She asked this time. Being comforted a little always felt nice. Not that he'd do anything but tease her.

"Yes." His voice was calm, unapologetic. Her vagina did a mini squeeze at the implications. Oh god, it was probably orgasm denial again. With an inhuman amount of edging. And she'll have to beg, again and again, even though he never seemed satisfied. Just enjoying her struggle and writhe. Until he finally conceded.

She hoped it wasn't that. She hadn't had sex in so many days, she would cry if it was orgasm denial.

"Any guesses?" She knew he was just asking for fun, but she didn't dare answer him for the fear she'd be giving him more fodder to use. Let's not increase one's own suffering had always been her principle.

"Speak up. You won't have a chance for quite some time." His mirth filled words made her eyes widen.

"Floor sex?" She tried to keep it ridiculous, so as to not dig a hole for herself.

He rewarded her with a smarting pinch to her bottom.

"Ow" she exclaimed, wanting to rub it, but he caught both her hands in one of his. It wasn't forceful by any means, just symbolic.

The show of dominance was simply making her horny. She squirmed in his lap.

"Floor sex?" His tone was mocking. "Want me to get the paddle out?" He made it sound like it was no trouble, like he'd be very happy to oblige.

"It's a clear floor. There's nothing" She defended herself. Her buttocks were quite acquainted with the said paddle. It was a love-hate relationship, leaning toward hate. "Gagging?" She tried again.

He was happier with that answer. She sighed in relief. "No gags. Not today. Unless you can't obey."

The implications made her pause.