Page 45 of The B!tch is Bad

“Aww.” He showed no sign of dysplasia, but x-rays probably disclosed it. “He’s very people oriented.”

“I noticed that. And he plays well with other dogs. Should we bring him in your yard?”

We brought both into the fenced-in garden, taking off the Bernedoodle’s leash. I’d already named him Arrow in my mind, maybe in honor of the adorable song, “Me and My Arrow.”

I hung all over Creed watching the two dogs romp. I hugged him from behind, reveling in the feel of his broad shoulders against my breasts, playing the Little Girl role to the hilt. I nibbled his earlobes, ran my hands over his skull, lifted my foot to twine my leg around his. And of course, I squeezed his luscious ass.

The dogs were naturals together, boxing each other, occasionally snipping to test boundaries. Arrow had grown up around other dogs so he was well socialized. I thought of my Brutus I’d had to leave behind in Oklahoma.

“Does he do things like shake and high five?”

“I know he does shake. Tanner’s really good about training and playing games. Keeping them alert, not bored.”

“Well. He certainly won’t be bored around here.” I meant walks through the vineyards, swims in the freshwater lake decorated with cattails, socializing in the wine cave with patrons. My imagination filled me with awe and warmth.

Creed went to his car and removed a dog bowl and a big plastic container filled with kibble. This was the brand Tanner recommended. I filled Scruffy’s lunch bowl while Creed did Arrow’s, and we fed them together out back. Not wanting them to play on full stomachs, we brought them in the living room to calm down and nap. Arrow was a bit agitated, understandably, but eventually he mellowed out and napped up on a couch.

I didn’t want to stop kissing his head, but Creed murmured “ssh” and took me to my bedroom. I was mortified at the state of dirty laundry on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice as he stripped the blanket and top sheet off the queen bed.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Ssh,” Creed told me again. “This is all for your benefit, little girl.”

Hands gripped together, I bounced just like a kid, too. Nervous and excited at the same time, when he whipped out what looked like four handcuffs coming together in the middle like a spiderweb. Creed shoved it all under the mattress, leaving two Velcro handcuffs on our side, and bringing two out on the other.

“Now,” he said, laying his glasses on the nightstand, “you’re the rope bunny. I’m the rigger.”

“I listen to you,” I presumed.

He flashed a grin. “You’re catching on. This is more DDLG you need to learn.”

Daddy Dom little girl. I liked it.

As he casually slid out of his shirt, he commanded me to undress.

“But . . . “ I didn’t want to admit it, but I had to. “I’m not wearing a bra.”

He shrugged. “All the better.” It looked like he would leave his jeans on as he knelt and removed two coils of colored ropes. He’d somehow snuck in there and hid it under my bed. I should’ve been offended or scared but I wasn’t. I trusted Creed to the utmost.

I knew what Creed wanted next. I lay spread-eagled on my back on the bed. I would’ve felt way more self-conscious if I hadn’t been a model for so many years. Since then, I’d gained some weight, mostly around my rib cage like a life preserver. For the first time in my life, it didn’t bother me. I was free as a gift as I reclined on my back, obediently making like a jumping jack so Creed could bind my wrists.

“You’re being a very good little girl,” he murmured, cinching a wrist tight with Velcro.

“I want to please,” I breathed, “but I also want to show you how strong I can be.”

His grin was mysterious, unreadable. “Oh yeah? We’ll see about that.”

I soon decoded what he meant when he slipped down my legs to bind my ankles. He tickled my calves with his fingertips, shooting daggers directly into my cunt. I swear, it squeezed as though around an invisible penis, and I gasped.

“See?” he teased, walking his fingertips back up my thighs. “You can’t beat me.”

I felt his hot breath before his mouth even touched my clit. My reaction was to rear up and seize, but he’d bound me so rigidly I could only move a fraction of an inch. So I did what anyone would do.

I bucked my hips.

Tarnation, I bucked my hips, the only thing not nailed down, as Creed lightly licked and grazed my pounding clit with his tongue tip.

This only gave him more power, and I felt him smile as he warmed me with his breath and teased me with his light touch.