just for her. He had some emotions to express on McKenzie’s
ass if only he could lift his bruised and tired arms. Maybe it could wait.
Chapter Eight
Michael stood back and surveyed his handiwork with deep
satisfaction. McKenzie was secured, face down, to all four posts of the bed,
hips elevated on a specially designed pillow allowing him access to her pussy
and ass, preventing her from sneaking an orgasm. He knew her colon was squeaky
clean from the anal douche he’d insisted upon earlier, and that there wasn’t
one stray pubic hair anywhere on McKenzie’s delectable cunt. He had once again
overseen the waxing, denying McKenzie release despite the erotic torture by the
aesthetician and his help with a
little vibe. He’d planned this night for a long time. It wasn’t every day a Dom
got to celebrate his wedding to the sub he loved more than life itself, and she
would wait for her climax.
Drifting his fingertips from the nape of her neck down the ridge of
her spine Michael smiled as McKenzie shivered in response to his touch before
relaxing again in utter trust. Trust. Trust in his promise.
Picking up the specially designed butt plug he’d ordered in time for
the honeymoon, a marvel of size and texture and the option of filling it with
cold or hot water, Michael opted for cold, the better to make his wife shudder.
He drizzled lube over her little rosebud and teased the opening with his
finger, pushing in slowly, in tiny increments until into the second knuckle,
then pulled out and shoved in again hard. McKenzie gave a tiny gasp and
subsided. More lube and two fingers, stretching her. He pulled out and watched
the ring flash pink and close, smiling to himself. The plug was going to sting.
Fitting the end to her back entrance Michael pushed the toy in with
one controlled shove, the interesting ridges and swirls catching and dragging
against all those nerve endings. McKenzie gasped much louder, pushing back as
the plug seated deep inside. He watched as she began to adjust, only to feel
the cold. She moaned, hips jerking. He thought maybe he’d pack the plug with
ice chips the next time. It was damn near big enough for whole cubes, and was
going to make McKenzie’s cunt nearly impossible to fit inside. But he would
manage. After he tormented his sub some more. The scent of her arousal filled
the room like some exotic aphrodisiac and Michael was transported.
Flicking on the remote the butterfly on her clit whined to life.
“You are not to come.”
“Please, Michael.” Her plea didn’t move him, McKenzie hadn’t meant
it to, but the use of his name did. She didn’t call him Master anymore, not
when they scened , not even in the bedroom. He was
Michael. No artificiality. Sometimes Sir Michael, which never failed to make
him laugh. But always he was Michael .
The warmth it elicited washed over him, soothing, all encompassing.
“No. If you do I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” The scented response
from her pussy at his dark threat had him reaching to shove two digits up her,
the passage eased by her copious cream, seeking her Gspot .
She wailed, begging him to stop or let her come. Michael feathered
one last touch over the spongy surface and withdrew, smiling again as she
huffed and squirmed. “You’ll wait.”
That hint he wouldn’t withhold forever settled McKenzie. It was
visible in her body language, so of course he decided to ramp things up,
choosing the paddle, the one with the multitude of holes drilled into it for
optimum sting. He went for the gusto, wielding the implement with abandon,
laying accurate, measured swats on her ass until the velvet skin pinked wildly,
the color deepening into a lovely shade of crimson. She cried and sobbed and
gushed her need until his cock couldn’t be denied. Michael crawled between her
widespread legs and pushed the pillow until she was humped high, sweet ass in
the air, stretched taut at all four corners of the restraints. He notched
himself at
ass if only he could lift his bruised and tired arms. Maybe it could wait.
Chapter Eight
Michael stood back and surveyed his handiwork with deep
satisfaction. McKenzie was secured, face down, to all four posts of the bed,
hips elevated on a specially designed pillow allowing him access to her pussy
and ass, preventing her from sneaking an orgasm. He knew her colon was squeaky
clean from the anal douche he’d insisted upon earlier, and that there wasn’t
one stray pubic hair anywhere on McKenzie’s delectable cunt. He had once again
overseen the waxing, denying McKenzie release despite the erotic torture by the
aesthetician and his help with a
little vibe. He’d planned this night for a long time. It wasn’t every day a Dom
got to celebrate his wedding to the sub he loved more than life itself, and she
would wait for her climax.
Drifting his fingertips from the nape of her neck down the ridge of
her spine Michael smiled as McKenzie shivered in response to his touch before
relaxing again in utter trust. Trust. Trust in his promise.
Picking up the specially designed butt plug he’d ordered in time for
the honeymoon, a marvel of size and texture and the option of filling it with
cold or hot water, Michael opted for cold, the better to make his wife shudder.
He drizzled lube over her little rosebud and teased the opening with his
finger, pushing in slowly, in tiny increments until into the second knuckle,
then pulled out and shoved in again hard. McKenzie gave a tiny gasp and
subsided. More lube and two fingers, stretching her. He pulled out and watched
the ring flash pink and close, smiling to himself. The plug was going to sting.
Fitting the end to her back entrance Michael pushed the toy in with
one controlled shove, the interesting ridges and swirls catching and dragging
against all those nerve endings. McKenzie gasped much louder, pushing back as
the plug seated deep inside. He watched as she began to adjust, only to feel
the cold. She moaned, hips jerking. He thought maybe he’d pack the plug with
ice chips the next time. It was damn near big enough for whole cubes, and was
going to make McKenzie’s cunt nearly impossible to fit inside. But he would
manage. After he tormented his sub some more. The scent of her arousal filled
the room like some exotic aphrodisiac and Michael was transported.
Flicking on the remote the butterfly on her clit whined to life.
“You are not to come.”
“Please, Michael.” Her plea didn’t move him, McKenzie hadn’t meant
it to, but the use of his name did. She didn’t call him Master anymore, not
when they scened , not even in the bedroom. He was
Michael. No artificiality. Sometimes Sir Michael, which never failed to make
him laugh. But always he was Michael .
The warmth it elicited washed over him, soothing, all encompassing.
“No. If you do I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” The scented response
from her pussy at his dark threat had him reaching to shove two digits up her,
the passage eased by her copious cream, seeking her Gspot .
She wailed, begging him to stop or let her come. Michael feathered
one last touch over the spongy surface and withdrew, smiling again as she
huffed and squirmed. “You’ll wait.”
That hint he wouldn’t withhold forever settled McKenzie. It was
visible in her body language, so of course he decided to ramp things up,
choosing the paddle, the one with the multitude of holes drilled into it for
optimum sting. He went for the gusto, wielding the implement with abandon,
laying accurate, measured swats on her ass until the velvet skin pinked wildly,
the color deepening into a lovely shade of crimson. She cried and sobbed and
gushed her need until his cock couldn’t be denied. Michael crawled between her
widespread legs and pushed the pillow until she was humped high, sweet ass in
the air, stretched taut at all four corners of the restraints. He notched
himself at
Similar Books
