Night(draft)

As the ink dried on the contract, he stood up, a smoldering intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver of anticipation and nervousness down my spine. "Shall we begin?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through me.

I nodded, steeling myself for what was to come. "Lead the way."

He led me through his lavish home, a sprawling estate filled with art and artifacts from around the world. We entered a grand bedroom, decorated in shades of gold and black, with a massive four-poster bed at its center. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I took in the scene. This was happening.

He turned to me, his eyes never leaving mine as he began to undress. His jacket slid off his shoulders, his shirt unbuttoned and discarded, revealing a muscled chest and chiseled abs with a few scars. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel my cheeks flushing as he continued to strip, his pants and boxers joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

His underground boss vibe definitely not helping.

He stood before me, completely naked, his body a testament to the life he led.

And I couldn't help but stare, my eyes drawn to his impressive length, already hard and ready. I swallowed again, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Your turn," he said, his voice a husky whisper.

I hesitated for a moment, then began to undress. I slipped out of my robes giving way to bare skin. I felt ****, exposed, this was the first time I truly prostituted myself for money.

I reminded myself. I set the rules, what’s the worst he could do. I reassured myself.

As I stood before him, naked and defiant, his eyes roamed over my body, taking in every curve, every line. I could see the hunger in his gaze, the raw desire that was making me feel already caught in his trap. But I wasn't about to let him see that, wasn't about to let him know how much he affected me.

"So," I said, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "What now?"

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin that sent a thrill of excitement and fear through me. "Now," he said, "we explore the boundaries of pleasure."

He walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling out a variety of items - feathers, silk scarves, a blindfold, a bowl of ice, and a small, innocuous-looking bottle. I eyed the collection warily, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Remember," he said, turning back to me. "No kisses, no sex toys, no penetration, and no magic. But everything else... is fair game."

He started with the feather, running it lightly over my skin, tracing patterns that sent shivers down my spine. It was a teasing touch, barely there, yet it set my nerves alight, my body responding to the gentle stimulation. I bit my lip, trying to suppress a gasp, but a small sound escaped nonetheless.

He smiled, his eyes never truly leaving mine as he continued his exploration, the feather giving way to the silk scarves. He wrapped them around my wrists, binding them together behind my back. I tested the bonds, finding them secure but not uncomfortable. I was at his mercy now, completely under his control. The thought sent a thrill of fear and excitement through me.

I blamed the estrogen my mind was flooded with ever since I took over as Claire, my sexual orientation having gone through a rollercoaster of sorts as I was confronted with the undeniable and unwanted attraction towards the opposite sex. As much as I wanted to claim I was lesbian it was hard to ignore my bodies reaction when at the mercy of a men.

Blindfolded next, the world went dark, my other senses heightening in response. I could feel his breath on my skin, could smell his cologne, could hear his distinct footsteps as he moved around me. I could sense him, his presence, his power, his desire. It was intoxicating.

The first touch of ice came as a shock, a cold jolt against my heated skin. I gasped, my body arching as he traced the cube over my collarbone, down between my breasts, circling my nipples until they were hard and aching. The cold was intense, almost painful, but it was a pain that edged into pleasure, a new sensation that left me craving more.

He replaced the ice with his mouth, his hot breath a stark contrast to the cold. His breath teasing as his tongue darted out to lick the melted water off my body sending shivers down my spine. I could feel his smile even if I didn’t see it, could feel his satisfaction at my shivering response.

He worked his way down my body, his touch alternating between hot and cold, soft and firm. His tongue way too vivid in the world of darkness and restrained I found myself in.

He never broke the rules, never crossed the boundaries I had set, yet he pushed me to the very edge of them, exploring every inch of my body, every sensitive spot.

When he finally reached between of my thighs, I was already a trembling mess, my body aching with need, my breath coming in ragged gasps. He blew softly on my clit, a cool breeze that sent a jolt of pleasure through me. I moaned, my hips bucking, seeking more contact, more stimulation.

He chuckled, a low, sultry sound that sent vibrations through my core. "Patience," he murmured. "We have all night."

He heard him uncap a bottle, pouring liquid onto his fingers. It felt strangely warm, almost hot, and it tingled against my skin as he rubbed it onto my clit, his touch gentle yet firm. As he applied the mixture with care.

I gasped, the sensation unlike anything I had ever felt. A sudden heat assaulting my senses as if someone had placed a hot stone against my clit. I knew it was a false sensation as only the area with the liquid felt it but it didn’t change that I felt my clit burning in heat.

It was intense, almost overwhelming, a heat that built and built, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

He continued to stroke me, his fingers skilled and sure, his touch driving me crazy. I could feel my orgasm building, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume me. But just as I was about to tumble over the edge, he stopped.

I cried out in frustration, my body trembling with unmet need. "Please," I begged, the word escaping my lips before I could stop it. "Please, don't stop."

He chuckled again, his voice a low rumble. "Ah, ah, ah," he tsked. "Not yet, my dear. Not until you admit it. Not until you admit that you're enjoying this."

I bit my lip, my body screaming for release, my mind a whirl of desire and defiance. I couldn't give in, couldn't admit defeat. Not yet. Not like this.

He continued to tease me, his touch alternating between pleasure and pain, between heat and cold, between softness and firmness. The contrast intensifying each sensation.

He pushed me to the very edge of my limits, to the very boundary of what I could endure, and then he pushed me further.

I lost track of time, lost track of everything but his touch, his voice, his presence. I was a writhing, moaning mess, my body slick with sweat, my mind consumed by pleasure. And still, he didn't let me come. Still, he held me on the edge, waiting, wanting, needing.

It was agonizing, nearly unbearable, being brought so close to the edge over and over again. Each time I thought I had reached my limit, it seemed to stretch further, a maddening game leaving me quivering.

Finally, when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, when I thought I would scream from the intensity of it all, he stopped. He removed the blindfold, untied my wrists, and looked into my eyes, his gaze a storm of desire and demand.

"Admit it," he said, his voice a low growl. "Admit that you're enjoying this. Admit that you want more and maybe just maybe I might let you cum."

I looked into his eyes, my body trembling, my heart pounding, my mind in chaos. I could lie, could deny the truth, could hold onto my defiance, my pride. But in that moment, I couldn’t. I wanted it, wanted this, wanted more.

Even if not now I would certainly break down and give in before long.

"Yes," I whispered, surrendering ."Yes, I'm enjoying it. You won. "

He smiled, a triumphant, hungry smile that sent a thrill of fear and anticipation through me. "Good,"

After my admission, he didn't gloat or tease. Instead, he looked at me with a hunger that matched my own desire, a need that was raw and primal.

He pushed me back onto the bed.

“Show me where you want it!”

I spread my legs apart, exposing the place I was willing to sacrifice as I covered my pussy.

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a grin on his lips.

“Never fucked a nun in her ass I must admit.”

He chuckled, a low, sultry sound that sent a shiver of anticipation and nervousness down my spine. "Well, aren't you full of surprises?" he said as he began to stroke himself, his cock already hard and throbbing.

I watched him, my heart pounding in my chest, as he drew closer.

“Why don’t you show me that lovely tongue of yours again.” It wasn’t a question and I didn’t interpret it as one either, obediently opening my mouth and stretching out my tongue.

The sun having set in the darkened night I submitted to him.

He leaned over me, his eyes locked onto mine, a hungry smirk playing on his lips. "Such a good little girl," he murmured, as he inspected my tongue,his voice a low rumble.

What followed is a passionate trip to poundtown but that’s a story for another day. ( just kidding still working on the next scene. )