Bound to Accept Read Online Free PDF

clitoris, and I flinch in sympathy. The woman
writhes and arches in the chair, but doesn't make a single sound.
He smacks her breasts next, first the left, then the right, before
dropping to his knees.
    Is he going to go down on her? No. Instead,
he inserts the end of the flogger into his mouth, sucking on it
suggestively, letting his tongue play over the tip like he's giving
a blowjob and—
    Oh my God, he's inserting it into her
vagina. I dig my fingers into the sheet. Fingers lightly brush
against my thigh, close to where the woman on screen is getting
violated.
    “ Do you want me to turn it
off?” Tristan asks softly, rubbing my thigh so gently, such
compassion in his voice, that I can't imagine him doing the things
I'm seeing on the TV set.
    He's enjoying it, too, though. I can make
out a telltale bulge in the crotch of his jeans. Or is it my fear
that's making him that way? “No.”
    He presses a light kiss to my cheek. “My
brave girl.”
    “ Does she…” My mouth is
having trouble forming the words. “Does she like that?”
    “ Oh, yes,” he says in a
low voice.
    Even if I decide that this isn't my—what did
he call it?—my scene, I think it might be good to understand. He
was right; this really isn't anything like what my friends write
about in their books. Usually, their books are about some beautiful
woman getting abducted by a foreign millionaire, who has sex with
her while she's imprisoned in the Waldorf Astoria-esque basement of
his mansion in the Hamptons.
    Except for the handcuffs, and the fact that
the sex in those romance novels is usually non-consensual, at least
at first, they're pretty boring and tame.
    This, on the other hand, would make a great
story.
    Tristan hasn't taken his hand from my thigh
and leaves it there as the scene changes. The woman from before is
now spread-eagle on a bed, her gag swapped for a blindfold. The man
in the leather pants is there, and his penis is still out, though
he's not quite fully erect anymore.
    “ Please,” she begs,
“Master, please, may I come?”
    “ Yes,” he says. “Come like
the whore we both know you are.” He removes the nipple clamps, and
the woman gives a full bodied shiver, along with a small
cry.
    “ Thank you, Master,” she
gasps, weeping. Tears trickle down from beneath the leather
blindfold.
    The man wipes the tears
from her face with his thumbs, making the gesture look almost
affectionate. It's the first show of compassion he's given so far,
but he ruins it by snapping a thick leather collar around her
throat.
    A chain runs from her collar, and he draws
it out lengthwise down her body, running his finger along her skin
as he follows the chain's path, until he comes between her legs. He
spreads her labia with his fingers in a V-shape and affixes the
charm—it's another clamp—to her clitoris.
    I wince.
    “ Clit clamps actually make
the skin very sensitive,” says Tristan. “It's a lot easier to
achieve orgasm that way.”
    “ You want my cock as a
reward,” the man on the TV says, and for the first time I notice
his voice is shockingly high. Not at all what I was expecting,
which was a deep baritone, like Tristan's.
    “ Oh, yes, please,
Master.”
    “ Show me, then,” he says.
“Show me how much you want me inside of you. Show me what you'll
look like with my cock buried deep inside your slutty, wicked
cunt.”
    Slutty, wicked cunt? I
choke back a nervous giggle, darting a sideways look at Tristan—and
am shocked into turning my head in a full-on double-take. Because
Tristan's not watching the movie. He's watching me , and the intensity in his eyes
makes my mouth go dry. Slowly, I tilt my head back towards the
screen, but I can feel the weight of his eyes on me.
    The man bends out of sight for a moment, and
then comes up holding what looks like a penis made out of glass. He
lubes it up with his mouth like he did with the flogger in the
other scene (that can't be sanitary) and inserts it into her
vagina, pushing it in and