Chapter Twenty-Five
AudenThe girl at my feet is exquisite. She is artful obscenity.
She is living surrender.
Marks already decorate her t**s and thighs, her hands are bound, her full lips are parted for my c**k, which she takes and takes and takes, until I withdraw, leaving it jutting between us like a sword.
I reach down and untie her hands. “On the bed. On your stomach.”
She is naked, with a thick braid draped over one pale shoulder, and when she nods, the end of it brushes against a stiffened, lovingly abused n****e. “Yes, Sir,” she says, and moves to obey. I can see the pale flash of her soles as she walks through the shadows to our bed, and I think after we’re through tonight, I’ll play with them. Massage them and pet them until she purrs.
But she doesn’t need to purr righ
