Page 99 of Bratva Menace

I couldn’t. I was completely restrained from head to fucking toe, and I liked it. I was stretched out completely, my thighs spread wide, my arms extended along the back of the couch, wholeheartedly at her mercy. My cock throbbed at the picture I made. I held in a groan filled with pure pleasure.

I tracked Lyla through the mirror as she circled me, admiring her work. “God, do you have any idea how good you look like this?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but yeah, I kinda do,” I panted, squirming. Pressure was building inside me, and I felt like I needed to release it soon or I would fucking explode.

“It’s so much better than I ever could have imagined. I just want to keep you in here forever, tied down like this, so you can never leave. So I can use you whenever I want.”

A shudder wracked through me. “Can you touch me now? Please. I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

She stopped. “Bad?” she asked, concerned.

“Fucking good,” I groaned. The feeling of the cuffs digging into my wrists and ankles, the tight, unwavering pressure of the collar around my throat, heightened everything. Made everything feel so much more incredible. My senses were going into overload. I needed relief. I needed it immediately.

“Oh, baby.” She chuckled. “We’re only just getting started.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” I whined.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth it.” She retrieved something from the trunk along the far wall and returned to stand in front of me. Silver glinted in the light, and I saw it.

A dagger.

“Red line?” she asked, holding it up so I could see it clearly in the mirror.

“No,” I gasped, shaking my head. The collar restricted my movements, my head only being able to move slightly.

The tip of the blade touched my chest. I sucked in a harsh breath. She trailed it down slowly, so fucking slowly, and my breathing increased in anticipation, my chest rising and falling rapidly. It didn’t feel as sharp as what I had anticipated, and I wondered if Lyla had perhaps dulled it down.

She stopped at the top of pelvis. “Red line?”

Jesus, fuck. What was she going to do? Drag it along my dick? Why was I hoping that was her intention? I really was fucked up.

“No,” I groaned.

“You sure?”

“As long as you don’t cut it off, we’re good.”

A soft chuckle fell from her lips. “This is one of my favorite parts of your body. I would never dream of cutting it off. Except maybe to memorialize it and have it sitting on my mantelpiece.”

“Weird, but I’m kinda into it.”

Another throaty chuckle. I liked that I could make her laugh.

Entranced, I watched as Lyla moved the blade lower and lower. My breath caught in my throat at the sight. She could fucking end me right there and then, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop her.

It turned me on so fucking much.

My cock stood tall, hard as a rock. Slowly and very carefully, she ran the dagger along my shaft. Lyla’s soft, breathy moans, the sensation of the blade touching me in my most vulnerable, intimate parts, and watching her do it all from above was fucking incredible. Indescribable. She was barely fucking touching me, and I felt as though I was going to come.

“Jesus, oh, fuck,” I moaned, my body shaking. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it feels so good.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Her voice was somewhat strained, and I wondered if she was having trouble holding herself back too.

“When you said you wanted to play with me, I had no idea what that entailed.”

“Honestly,” she began, blowing out a rough breath, “I planned to play for a while, but I don’t know if I can wait any longer. Seeing you like this, so pliable and so submissive…I need to fuck you, and I need to fuck you now.”

That sounded both amazing and torturous at the same time. I wanted her to continue. To continue edging me in a way I had never envisioned before. But then I also wanted to be buried so deep in that tight little pussy that I could barely fucking breathe.