Back straight, legs locked, shaking like a motherfucker, but trying valiantly to hide it. He popped the big black velvet box and I waited, throat bared, as if for execution.
It was deceptive. Pretty and silver. Three jointed lengths of sterling silver with a Claddagh attached. The Irish symbol for friendship or love or marriage. It was gorgeous and bold and would go with anything at all.
But, when he held it up, my heart started to race. For, as pretty as it was, it was just as bad as the dog collar he’d dismissed. I could tell by its size that it would grip my throat with a cold clinical pressure that made me antsy. All I wanted to do was turn and run.
‘Now I know how you feel about things on your neck,’ he said. He ran his finger along my bottom lip and my body went haywire, distress and arousal mingling and making me feel floaty and spacey in my own body. ‘But it’s just until the party’s over. To remind you. If you are a good girl, we’ll take it off as soon as we can.’
I nodded and then bit my lip hard enough to taste a coppery kiss of blood. I would not cry. I would obey.
I bowed my head to allow Trevor to put the necklace on. Each section of sterling silver reminded me of a very subtle smiley face. The three were linked and the charm dangled from the centre section. I could tell just by eyeing it that it would be too snug to my flesh. Constricting and cruel.
That alone made my cunt wet. My heart beat fast. My cheeks flushed.
Trevor smiled and shook his head. He tsk-ed at me and I knew I’d made a mistake. ‘Come on now, Winona … is that how you accept a gift?’
He pointed one blunt finger at the generic grey carpet at his feet. ‘Kneel.’
I felt stupid. What had I been thinking? But again that wet curl of arousal in my pussy made it all OK. I moved forwards, dropped to my knees, bared my throat.
He hooked the necklace quickly. With my issues, it felt like a death sentence – the most severe of punishments. But I forced myself to take a shuddery but calming breath and relax some.
His zipper hissed at me and I watched, excited and somewhat ashamed, to see him pull his cock free. He painted my lips slowly with the warm silken skin of his glans. I hummed softly, swaying a little on my knees as if intoxicated.
I parted my lips, let him smear his skin along my pink painted mouth. When he made that sound in the back of his throat that always made me tremble, I moved my head forwards to suck him.
‘This is how you accept a gift, Winona.’ His voice was soft as he pushed deeper into my throat. I swayed along with the lulling sound of his words. He took my head in his hands, cupping me so that the world was muffled and I felt like I could hear the ocean if I tried.
When he touched the back of my throat with his cock, driving deep, I gagged a little. My eyes watered. I sucked in a desperate elated breath through my nose.
He growled, a sound I cherished. ‘Hike up that skirt, Winona. And there’d better be no panties under there.’
My fingers clutched my snug skirt and lifted. Beneath it I wore only thigh-high stockings and a small, well-groomed patch of pubic hair.
He nodded, forcing his cock deeper into my throat. ‘Good’ was all he said. And then, ‘You may touch yourself.’
I was slick and slippery. Warm and eager. My fingers slid along my nether lips, parting, stroking, plucking, pinching. I eased fingers into my cunt as I sucked him a little faster. A little deeper. A little better.
His fingers dug into my loose chignon, pulling just enough to give me that welcome element of pain. All the while the necklace that he gave me kept its greedy metal fingers on my pulse, the swell of my throat, the charm banging the hollow at my clavicle. Mocking me.
He yanked my hair hard when he came and that bright burst of pain pushed me over the edge. I climaxed a second later, shivering fingers buried in my soaking wet pussy, my clit throbbing in time with my heart.
He took my hand and helped me stand after tucking himself back in. Always he treated me as if I were royalty. Some great beauty, some wonderful lady, to be admired and cherished. Until she was used and abused. Spanked and bound and whipped and fucked. Although I knew that was only him cherishing me all the more.
I wiped my lips with a tissue he handed over and then he kissed me. Almost a perfunctory kiss, but not quite. His tongue snaked out at the very last second, sneakily taking a taste of his semen on my lips. It always turned me on when he allowed himself to go there. He’d once whispered, ‘One of these days, I’m going to clean up after myself when I come. And then I’ll fuck you again. What do you think?’
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