15

Lucy
Ravil strips me and ties my wrists together then secures them to the headboard. I lie on my side because back lying is contraindicated now, something Ravil seemed to already know.
If there’s one thing I can’t fault him for, it’s doing his research. I’ll have to do my own now on home and water births.
Slapping him felt good. I’m not the type to slap men. I’ve never done it before, but dammit, he deserves it. And while I’m scared of what he’s capable of, I was almost certain he wouldn’t hurt me.
And he didn’t. He didn’t even get angry.
Probably because he knows he deserved it.
Funny how I can be so angry with him and still crave his touch everywhere. Still want his brand of dominance. It’s like he holds me in a spell. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to surrender, but my body melts like butter any time he lays those wicked fingers on me. That tongue.
And even now while I want to refuse this, I want to tell him to get the hell out, but my raging hormones overrule all reason and just scream yes, please.
More.
He climbs over me, a tube of something in his hand. He pushes my top knee open and rubs a couple drops of whatever is in the tube over my clit. I blink at him, wanting him to go on, to massage that place until I go off, but he doesn’t. He looks down at me, studying my face. “Do you need a blindfold, kitten?”
My first instinct is to snap no. Like he issued a threat not a true question. But it occurs to me that he’s not against me when we’re in bed. This is the man who seems to know my body better than I do. He played me like a fine instrument at Black Light.
So I answer truthfully. “I-I don’t know.”
He nods. “I think you might.” He leaves the bed and returns with one of his ties, which he wraps around my head and secures in the back. I sink my head down on the pillow.
“Comfortable, kitten?”
I nod.
“Good. Because I intend to take my time with you this afternoon.”
“I-I have work to do,” I say. It’s true, I always have work to do. It’s also true that there’s nothing pressing.
“It will wait,” Ravil says.
Whatever he rubbed on my clit starts to send hot and cold sensations through all the sensitive nerve-endings. A tingling spreads through my entire genital area.
Yeah, I’m definitely not going to work right now. Or any time soon.
Ravil slaps my ass.
I jump, surprised at the sensation. Damn. He was right. The blindfold heightens everything. Helps me settle in. I sink into the scene, knowing there’s nothing I can or need to do. Ravil is in charge and-in this scenario-I trust him.
His fingers wrap around my knee, and he lightly trails his lips up my inner thigh again. I shiver at the sensation, pleasure blooming everywhere. He opens my labia and trails his tongue around my inner bits. I moan softly. It feels so good. Every time he touches me, my body comes alive.
It’s like I never even had sex before Ravil. Sure, I did the deed, but it was mechanical. Vaguely satisfying. Nothing at all like this.
This is hedonism-something I’ve never allowed myself. I don’t drink too much. I don’t overeat. I don’t take vacations, even though I know I should.
My parents instilled in me the belief I had to work hard and prove myself at all times. That’s what they did. That’s what my older brother, the NASA engineer did.
And I was told I’d have to work even harder because I’m a pretty woman. I’d have to prove myself over and over again. In college, through law school, at my father’s firm. Especially there-so no one would think I was handed the position through nepotism.
But Ravil doesn’t make me prove my worth. Not when I’m tied up, blindfolded and at his mercy.
Here, I am his to punish. His to pleasure. All I need to do is surrender. Receive. Enjoy.
“Ravil,” I find myself croaking, rolling my hips and needing more than just his tongue.
“Tell me about your orgasms, kitten.” Ravil says, removing his glorious tongue from between my legs. “Are they mostly vaginal?” He tucks a couple digits inside me and strokes my inner wall.
Another moan falls from my lips. It feels so good.
“A-as opposed to what?” I manage to pant.
“Clitoral or cervical. They say there are three kinds of orgasms.” Suddenly he’s up by my head, trailing butterfly kisses along the column of my neck. “Four if you count this region.” He arrives at my jaw and kisses me harder there, then nibbles my ear.
Shivers run through me in all directions-up and down my spine, along the insides of my legs, in the arches of my feet, down my arms.
“Ravil,” I croak again.
He strokes down my cheek-I think with the backs of his fingers. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his accent thicker than usual. “I love it when you say my name like you’re dying to be fucked.”
I lick my lips. “Please.”
It didn’t take me long to get from slapping him to begging.
“Surrender, kitten. You’ll get your pleasure when I decide.”
“I know,” I say faintly.
He chuckles and kisses the bobbing of my throat, then the notch between my clavicles, then the center of my breastbone.
He strums my right nipple lightly with the pad of a finger. There’s a patience with which he approaches my body that intensifies everything. He doesn’t just pinch or lick right away. Just lightly touches until it stiffens and lengthens under his touch.
“Soon these beautiful breasts will provide sustenance to our son. Benjamin.”
My body shivers in response. I plan on breastfeeding. At least a little. Pumping for certain, to leave milk with the nanny when I’m at work. But Ravil speaking of it now while I’m in this receptive state, in touch with my body, makes me almost crave the act. Like my body knows and believes the beauty of it. As perfect and pleasurable as sex. As natural and easy.
And for me, nothing’s ever been natural or easy.
Until Ravil showed up yesterday, I’d been out of sync with my body for the pregnancy. Between the morning sickness in the early months and then the unquenchable horniness, not to mention growing out of all my clothes and my feet swelling, I wanted to step out of my body. Divorce it.
But now I’m fully in it-more than I’ve ever been-and it feels wonderful.
Ravil lightly tickles his fingertips on my inner thigh as he swirls his tongue around my nipple, then comes off and blows it dry.
“Ravil,” I moan. “Please.”
“I know, kitten.” He sucks my nipple into his mouth, taking a long hard pull on it, like he’s a suckling baby, and I feel the answering tug in my core. “I know what you need.”
“How?” I warble. My brain, as ever, refuses to shut off.
He scrapes his teeth over my nipple. “How do I know? I pay attention, kotyonok.”
I shiver. “S-so, what kind of orgasms do I have?”
“Vaginal,” he answers immediately. “But you like stimulation everywhere.”
My body surrenders to him even more. I register it like a wash of relief, a deepening relaxation. Giving up control has never felt so incredible.
“Ravil?” Somehow it’s easier to talk to him with the blindfold on. With my body under his control.
He kisses around the swell of my belly. “Yes, kitten?”
“What will you do with me?”
I mean after the birth. At least, I think that’s what I mean. I want to know his intentions. Why he’s kissing every inch of my body while holding me captive.
I want to know if he’ll keep me.
And I honestly don’t know how I want him to answer.
“This, kitten.” He holds my knee open and rims my anus. I shriek, squeezing and tightening with the pleasure and taboo of the act.
This. I can’t bring myself to ask again. To clarify. Because I’ve realized I don’t want to know the answer.
And then I lose track of my thoughts because the pleasure he wrings is so blissfully intense I don’t even care anymore.