Richard's Reign (Book 6): Enthrall Novella #3 (Enthrall Sessions) by Vanessa Fewings
Authors: Vanessa Fewings
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now.”
CHAPTER 12
SITTING HIGH ON the throne-like mahogany chair at the end of the long, darkly lit room, I waited.
Andrea was at the other end, near the back table, mulling over which one of the many whips, chains, and toys she should bring me.
I’d spent the last half hour binding her in rope and honoring the art of Shibari. That ancient bondage once reserved for prisoners was now reserved for beloved submissives who deserved the time and effort it took to wrap intricate strands in symmetrical patterns around their naked body.
Andrea looked stunning as she crawled on all fours toward me with that long, thin whip between her teeth - her movements sleek and elegant, her bottom waggling, her expression one of exhilaration.
This was where I was meant to be and this was who I was: A master who knew intuitively what his submissive needed - knew how to guide her into the scene so she felt honored and beautifully feminine, so that she trusted the play and would follow any command.
My cock ached for her.
She was the most exquisite submissive I’d ever had the privilege of playing with; a natural so into the scene that she required minimal training, being a fast learner.
Andrea rose up on her heels to present her gift to me.
It was as though we’d stepped into that black and white film. The room exactly fashioned to mirror this one. Even down to the rope hanging from the ceiling, waiting to be secured to the back of the submissive and used to raise her high.
I’d advised Andrea she must earn that right to suspension.
As she sat at my feet she shuddered with anticipation.
“Good girl,” I said. “You chose this one for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
She trembled with excitement, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes wide.
I rose from the chair and gestured for her to stand and lean forward on the hand rests of the chair with her butt out and ready for her punishment.
I felt a rush of arousal at seeing her so subservient, so tranced-out - proving she was just as turned on by the way her thighs shone with dampness.
Gently tapping her first with the whip, I judged her tolerance to the pain, with each strike gauging the way she reacted, her deep-throated moan as the leather met her butt, the way she shoved her ass out for more, the way her fingers clutched the armrest and quickly relaxed again.
Moving down to her sex, I parted her labia with my left hand and holding the whip with my right, I tapped it against her clit.
She moaned. “I want to be strung up, Master.”
“Soon.” I continued to use the whip, the sound of the strikes echoing, my cock rock hard and feeling the rush of blood, my balls urging me to take her.
I sent her over for another accoutrement, her pretty ass wangling as she crawled back to the table. She’d know I’d see evidence of her arousal shining brightly beneath the lights, her pussy spasms of need.
We continued on with this hypnotic rhythm, her crawling on all fours, heading off to bring me another instrument of torture.
Finally, she could no longer hold off. She crawled back to me with a vibrator between her teeth.
With her now sitting in the chair with her legs splayed on either side, I leaned toward her and said, firmly, “You may regret this choice.”
I ran the vibrating toy over her nipples and watched her squirm, those rippling buds rising even more, pink points firm.
“Is this what you want?” I lowered the vibrator and held it above her pubic bone.
“Lower, Master,” she burst out.
I rested it on her clit and held it there. “Remember, no talking without permission.” I lifted it again. “Do you understand the rules?”
She nodded furiously, her gaze moving from her sex back up to the toy.
“By bringing me this,” I said, “You’re asking for clit play?”
Her head fell back. “Oh, God, yes, clit play, Master.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she’d done.
“Stand.”
She looked exhilarated.
“However,” I said sternly. “Play is
CHAPTER 12
SITTING HIGH ON the throne-like mahogany chair at the end of the long, darkly lit room, I waited.
Andrea was at the other end, near the back table, mulling over which one of the many whips, chains, and toys she should bring me.
I’d spent the last half hour binding her in rope and honoring the art of Shibari. That ancient bondage once reserved for prisoners was now reserved for beloved submissives who deserved the time and effort it took to wrap intricate strands in symmetrical patterns around their naked body.
Andrea looked stunning as she crawled on all fours toward me with that long, thin whip between her teeth - her movements sleek and elegant, her bottom waggling, her expression one of exhilaration.
This was where I was meant to be and this was who I was: A master who knew intuitively what his submissive needed - knew how to guide her into the scene so she felt honored and beautifully feminine, so that she trusted the play and would follow any command.
My cock ached for her.
She was the most exquisite submissive I’d ever had the privilege of playing with; a natural so into the scene that she required minimal training, being a fast learner.
Andrea rose up on her heels to present her gift to me.
It was as though we’d stepped into that black and white film. The room exactly fashioned to mirror this one. Even down to the rope hanging from the ceiling, waiting to be secured to the back of the submissive and used to raise her high.
I’d advised Andrea she must earn that right to suspension.
As she sat at my feet she shuddered with anticipation.
“Good girl,” I said. “You chose this one for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
She trembled with excitement, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes wide.
I rose from the chair and gestured for her to stand and lean forward on the hand rests of the chair with her butt out and ready for her punishment.
I felt a rush of arousal at seeing her so subservient, so tranced-out - proving she was just as turned on by the way her thighs shone with dampness.
Gently tapping her first with the whip, I judged her tolerance to the pain, with each strike gauging the way she reacted, her deep-throated moan as the leather met her butt, the way she shoved her ass out for more, the way her fingers clutched the armrest and quickly relaxed again.
Moving down to her sex, I parted her labia with my left hand and holding the whip with my right, I tapped it against her clit.
She moaned. “I want to be strung up, Master.”
“Soon.” I continued to use the whip, the sound of the strikes echoing, my cock rock hard and feeling the rush of blood, my balls urging me to take her.
I sent her over for another accoutrement, her pretty ass wangling as she crawled back to the table. She’d know I’d see evidence of her arousal shining brightly beneath the lights, her pussy spasms of need.
We continued on with this hypnotic rhythm, her crawling on all fours, heading off to bring me another instrument of torture.
Finally, she could no longer hold off. She crawled back to me with a vibrator between her teeth.
With her now sitting in the chair with her legs splayed on either side, I leaned toward her and said, firmly, “You may regret this choice.”
I ran the vibrating toy over her nipples and watched her squirm, those rippling buds rising even more, pink points firm.
“Is this what you want?” I lowered the vibrator and held it above her pubic bone.
“Lower, Master,” she burst out.
I rested it on her clit and held it there. “Remember, no talking without permission.” I lifted it again. “Do you understand the rules?”
She nodded furiously, her gaze moving from her sex back up to the toy.
“By bringing me this,” I said, “You’re asking for clit play?”
Her head fell back. “Oh, God, yes, clit play, Master.” She slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she’d done.
“Stand.”
She looked exhilarated.
“However,” I said sternly. “Play is
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