Ultra Violet Read Free Page A

pleasure and an aching need that
was hard to ignore. She fidgeted, not really holding her position the way he’d
asked her to, and perhaps part of her hoped that Master would punish her for
it.
    Greg just chuckled and squeezed her butt fondly. “Put your
arms behind your back, little one. I want your wrists now.”
    Emily obeyed, her pulse rising as he gripped her arms
firmly, pulling them back behind her so he held her securely…helplessly. She
closed her eyes as the soft rope engulfed her wrists, smiling quietly to
herself as he cinched it tighter.
    “Very nice,” Greg murmured, his fingers stroking the back of
her arm as he traveled over her flesh with knots and bights, reacquainting
himself with every inch of her.
    Emily let a long, slow breath slide between her lips, trying
to hold firm under his touch. He did this when he bound her—touched and stroked
and woke a fire in every part of her, just with his hands and his voice.
    “Can’t keep my hands off you, little one,” he purred and she
leaned her head back, the weight of her collar a soothing bloom at her throat
as Greg moved her toward the bed.
    She let him bind her, moving and positioning her as he
wished until finally she was lying facedown on his bed, hogtied with her ankles
and wrists together, her elbows pulled in and her whole body arched like a bent
penny. Greg’s sheets smelled of synthetic jasmine fabric softener, and every
inch of her skin tingled from the touch of his hands as he’d bound her, petting
her while he tied her, making every truss and knot a gesture of sweetness.
    Emily wriggled on the pale-blue coverlet, unable to free
herself and, frustratingly, unable to see him. He was behind her, she knew. She
could hear him stripping out of his suit and she wanted to watch that, but he’d
slipped a small ball gag between her lips, so she couldn’t even complain about
her enforced view of his headboard.
    She flexed her wrists against the rope as she heard him
approach the bed, squeezing her buttocks, tensing her thighs…every muscle cried
out to be touched, and Emily gave vent to a loud groan when she finally felt
his fingers close around her ankle.
    Greg chuckled softly. He liked to tease her like this—these
cruelly wanton little touches that lasted for minutes but felt as though they
went on for hours. His fingertips tickled the soles of her feet, skimmed the
length of her calves, her bound arms…toyed along her shoulders and wound
themselves in her hair, pulling it firmly until she was obliged to tilt her
neck back, increasing the bent curve of her body even farther. Her collar
nudged at her throat, not enough to pinch but enough to remind her indisputably
of its presence. The stretch throughout her frame flushed warmth and vigor into
Emily’s limbs and she groaned again around the gag, sinking her teeth into the
rubber ball as her eyes widened.
    She was wet already. She knew that, and knew that Master
knew it.
    Her nipples chafed against the bedclothes, her lips tingling
hungrily as his touch seared her skin, and she would have begged if it hadn’t
been for the gag. The rope, for all its security and its sensuousness, silenced
the language of her body too, no matter how hard she tried to part her thighs,
but her pussy’s pleas were clear. A ragged, choked gasp left Emily’s throat as
Master’s strong fingers pressed into her slit.
    “Let’s see how wet you are for me, little one. My… very wet. Such a sweet, hot pussy. And this pretty little clit.”
    He pressed his thumb down hard on the nub in question and
she tried to buck against him, thwarted by her bonds. Greg chuckled and rubbed
lazily along the length of her slit, never dipping fully between her lips,
content to tease her with the growing weight of her own frustration.
    Emily growled against her gag. He knew what being bound this
way did to her. She got off so hard on being turned-on—wanting his cock,
wanting that uninhibited, wild fucking he could give her, and not