HIS CURVY OBSESSION

Knees

"Get on your knees"

The last time I heard that was nineteen years ago. Close to two decades. Over the legal age. And here I am, hearing it and doing so because I couldn't tame my mouth.

I move slowly, sliding off the chair and onto the hardwood. The floor is cold through my jeans, and within seconds, my knees starts to ache.

Banks doesn't move a muscle. He doesn't look away.

He remain perfectly still, watching me. I expect to feel sham, rage. A desperate need to call bullshit and storm out. But I feel none of that.

Instead, a hum of sheer anticipation buzz through my veins. It's a hunger I can't explain. A desire for his touch, for the next order. I'm terrified I might actually drip onto his floor right then and there.

"Eyes on me." Damn

I snap my gaze to his. The warm ambient light cast a sort of soft mist between us, narrowing my entire universe down to his face.

He have strong, perfectly manicured eyebrows and a very short haircut, But enough to grab. I grind my teeth to suppress a smile. Chiseled jawline and pointed nose. A mild stubble map his lower and upper jaw.

"Done checking me out?" He question, I shake my head and a ghost of a smile brace the corner of his lips.

His eyes are deepened and sharp, but his full lower lip pouts slightly, which makes him look a little less terrifying.

He looks like the owner of an underground fight club or mafia Don than a business man.

My eyes move down to his chest where few hairs peek out from his two unbuttoned buttons of his shirt. There's an arrow tattoo peeking through. It's either new or I missed it yesterday

"Say your rules"

The voice sound distant, like it's coming from underwater. My mind refused to process the words, too busy cataloging the man in front of me.

I blink, looking back at his face.

He said something.

Remember, Eleanor! You cannot break two rules within the hour. Apart from the fact that I'm horny, my knees are starting to throb.

"Rules," he repeats, the echo of command undeniable.

"Do not go out without a symbol of your master," I begin, listing them off one by one, keeping my eyes locked on his. I speak clearly, wanting him to be pleased. Proud of me.

I have an exceptional memory- always have. It’s how I survived biochemistry school. I'm certain none of his other "arrangements" had been able to memorize the protocol this fast.

"No, I was threatened," I conclud, the last rule of the twenty hanging in the air.

My heart drop. His face gave away absolutely nothing. No nod of approval. No tightening of his jaw in annoyance. He just sat there, analyzing.

He inhale deeply, then exhale slowly.

"On my laps."

He say, leaning back into the deep cushions of the sofa, spreading his legs.

I smile. My chest beats rapidly I can't hide my euphoria if I want to.

Using the center table as support, I stand up and go over to him.

I want to wait for confirmation, but I sit anyways when he says nothing.

I look at his face for discomfort. I assure you, I'm not light weight but his face holds no discomfort. He didn't squeeze his eyes. Nor did his eyebrows squint or shoot up. He didn't gulp or wince.

I sit on his laps, then closer, settling half of my weight on him, then he pulls me closer. I fall onto his chest

"When I say sit, I mean sit your full weight on my lap, c**k, face wherever"

I'll combust! No sublimate!

This is the most erotic thing said to me.

And I've been called a c*m hole.

"Yes master"

"You're smart" I bite my lips but I'm sure my cheeks are pink to give me away

"Thank you master"

"Smart people get gifts" my eyes rise up to him. Wide and expectant.

With my weight on him, he stretches forward to pick the yoghurt on the table.

My eyes dart between his face and the yoghurt resting between my breasts and his chest.

He opens it, scoop a spoonful and place it on my lips

"Take" He commands softly.

I've stopped breathing. Hell, I'm in heaven.

I can't remember being fed. I must have lost my memories as a baby but I've none on being spoon fed .

I open my mouth and to my own shock, tears immediately begin to fall. Everywhere is blurry but I feel the cold taste of the yoghurt. Of the man feeding me.

"Chocolate is a calorie bar not meal Anor" I nod, unable to speak, weeping quietly and he feeds me midst the tears. At the third spoonful, my vision becomes blurry by tears I can't see his face.

A warm press settle on my eyes.

And then the soft click of lips pressing on my eyes.

Seconds pass, the tears are dried and I'm staring at Banks.

He kissed my tears. Heavy weight settle on my chest and my throat clogs deep.

"Master" He blinks and continue feeding me in utter silence. By the twelfth spoon, the knots and weight in my stomach and chest were no more. I'm about to refuse the spoonful but he eats it himself.

Like he knows I'm satisfied.

"Chair" he says heavily, with his commanding register. Breaking the tension.

I lift up from him and find my way to the chair. Feeling everything and something.

I need to look for a loophole. Somewhere to paint him as red flag. This 'something' I feel can't establish. It can't gain wings

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know you little minx have gotten your ass spanked. When was the last time you actually went on your knees or crawled?