Princess Games

In 2014 the opening to my story "Princess Games" appeared in Alison Tyler's Never Say Never: Tips, Tricks, and Erotic Inspiration for Lovers, which you can read about here. For Valentine's day I thought it would be fun to revisit that scene from the heroine's point of view. Oh, and in case it needs pointing out, this scene is NOT safe for work.

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Jason showed her the timer on his phone, set to sixty minutes, pushed the start button and set the phone down.

“Oh like I think you'd cheat, Mr. Stickler-for-the rules,” Allie said.

He made that half-smile, half-smirk that hit her right where she lived. “Then you should also know I'm a dotter of i's and crosser of t’s.”

“You do know I'm the queen of edging, right? I can hold off on coming for days. Weeks even. An hour will be a walk in the park.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, Princess?”

“Someone who didn’t know better might wonder if this was a ploy on your part, so you could try submitting to me without having to admit you want it?” She was baiting the Dom big time, but it would be worth whatever price she had to pay later.

He put his finger across her lips, shushing her. “Then it’s a good thing you know better, isn’t it? You’re going down, Princess. Figuratively, and literally.”

She tried to playfully slap him. He grabbed her wrist, held it down, and planted a kiss on her mouth.

She became suddenly aware of the—not quite weight, but the presence—of his body over hers, of the scent of his after-shave, of the grip of his hand on her wrist. Rational thought slipped away, her focus narrowing to right here, right now, this moment. She squirmed.

“Are you wet for me, Princess?”

“Of course.”

“Good girl.”

Jason picked up a length of rope, shook it out, wrapped it around her wrist in a single column tie. He repeated the process with another length and her other wrist. He unzipped her skirt, pulled it down and off, folded it, and set it aside. Why didn’t he just drop it on the floor, for goodness’ sake? Did he have to be so God damn anal about everything? Silly question, she knew.

He tied the remaining lengths of rope to her ankles. Jason was capable of elaborate, Shibari-style bondage, and she’d spent many a pleasurable evening wrapped in the embrace of his rope. This was not that. Tonight he tied her spread-eagled to the bedposts, like a couple of college kids experimenting with bondage for the first time.

He traced his fingertips from her wrists, lightly down her arms, along her sides. He did the same from her ankles, up the inside of her legs and thighs, toward her cunt. Rope space beckoned. She shuddered, and slipped away.

He picked up the blindfold, showed it to her, gently placed it over her eyes. “Say good-bye to being able to see what’s going on, Princess.”

Her sense of sight taken away, her focus narrowed further.

She felt him unhook the front of her corset. His hands worked their way under the steel-boned fabric and gripped her sides. He planted another kiss. Her tongue danced with his.

He moved off her. She heard him fumbling with something, and a crunching sound she assumed was ice cubes.

He traced around her left nipple with his fingertip, eliciting a warm glow. Peppermint oil, she realized. He blew on her nipple, his breath cool on her skin. Bastard had an ice cube in his mouth. He sucked gently on her nipple, confirming her suspicion as the cube came in contact with her sensitive nub.

He twirled the cube around her nipple with his tongue. The combination of peppermint oil and ice brought on a “Too hot! Too cold! Too much!” sensation that made her squirm.

His mouth withdrew, replaced by the bite of the clover clamp. She’d never been able to apply those to herself. It inevitably ended with, “Ouch! Hurt! Bad pain!” But when he used them? After warming her up like this? Exquisite. As if an electric current were flowing from her breast directly to her cunt.

He repeated the procedure on the other side, as she’d expected. Sometimes you’re a bit predictable, darling.

His hand cupped her cunt over her panties, his finger tracing lazily up and down. Her hips rocked. She pushed up against him, wanting more, craving a harder touch. The bastard withdrew, keeping the pressure constant.

“Fucking sadist.” she hissed.

He laughed. “You say the sweetest things, Princess.”

A second finger joined the first. He bore down harder, pressing the gauzy fabric against her opening. Her panties were soaked.

She felt him shift on the bed. His fingers withdrew, replaced by the feel of cold metal on the side of her hip, between the panties and her skin. A shiver ran down her spine. It had to be just scissors. Right? She’d worn panties to taunt him, deliberately picked a pair she wouldn’t mind him cutting off. That had to be what was happening. Whatever it was felt sharp though. Cold. Menacing against her skin. Please, please, please just be scissors.

Snip. Thank fucking Christ.

Another snip on the other side.

“I’m sorry, Princess. Did I make you nervous?”

Oh right, like you didn’t know precisely what you were doing. Fucking bastard. “No, not at all.”

His fingers returned, more firmly this time, pushing the fabric inside her cunt, soaking up her arousal.

“Funny. Your cunt says otherwise.”

He took the panties away, exposing her nether regions, then he shifted on the bed again. She felt his fingertip against her mouth.

“Open, Princess.”

She opened wide, knowing better than to disobey. He stuffed her balled up panties into her mouth. “Now close.”

Oh fuck. She hadn’t anticipated this. The sensation itself wasn’t pleasant. She enjoyed neither the taste of the fabric nor the taste of her own juices, but the fact he was making her do it slammed her hard into subspace.

He slid down her body. She felt his thumb on her hood, retracting it, then three drops of liquid landing directly on her clit. The burning confirmed it was peppermint oil.

More clinking of ice, then the feel of his cool breath against her cunt. If the sensation had been intense on her nipple, it was ten times more so on her clit.

His tongue, cold from the ice, lapped against her lower lips, tracing designs around her clit and probing into her cunt. She trusted him not to push the ice cube inside her, risking frostbite, but he was pushing this indirect ice play for all he could.

“Edge, Master.” With the panties in her mouth it came out as “Ej, Mafteh.”

“Don’t stop on my account. Go right ahead and come, Princess.”

“Mmmphf.”

His tongue resumed its work on her cunt. She tried pulling her legs together to hold the impending orgasm at bay, but the ankle ropes prevented her from doing so. She tried breathing exercises to push the edge away.

Sweat dripped off her body. She was about to fail when, mercifully, he stopped. The edge had slipped away just enough for her to regain control when his open hand smacked against her cunt. Fuck! The rope cut into her ankles as she tried to slam her legs together.

The first smack was followed by four more. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

He slid up her body. The head of his cock pressed against her opening. He impaled her cunt with a single stroke. She pushed back against him, wanting to be fucked.

He pushed her down against the bed with the weight of his body, frustrating her efforts to thrust. His thumb found its way to her clit, tracing small circles. She cried out in frustration. Fuck me, damn it.

He removed the clamp from her right nipple, then the left. The pain washed over her in waves as blood flow returned.

He started to thrust, vigorously, the full length of his cock withdrawing from her, then slamming back in.

“Now, Princess. Come for me. Give me your orgasm.”

Her body obeyed before her mind could intervene. She shattered into tiny pieces.

She floated in the bliss for the longest time. When she came back, she found he’d removed the panties from her mouth and the rope from her wrists and ankles. He lay by her side, cradling her in his arms.

“Still with me, Princess?”

“Oh fuck. That was amazing. Well-fucked is an understatement.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess. I do believe that makes it my game though.” He showed her his phone, with thirty seconds remaining on the timer.

“If that’s an example of what I’m in for, I don’t even care.” An errant though crossed her mind, and her brow furrowed. “You didn’t come though. Was it okay for you?”

He squeezed her tight. “Winning is never a bad thing, Princess. And now I’ve got the rest of the night to use you however I please. In fact, how about you wait here while I go fix us a bite to eat? Then I’ll get you repositioned. I’d really like to use that bratty mouth of yours for dessert.”

“Mmm hmmm, sounds yummy.”

He kissed her on the cheek, then got up from the bed. As he walked away she lay on the bed, watching his fine ass, content with their evening so far, and anticipating what was still to come.

“Hurry back, my prince.”

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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this retelling of the scene from "Princess Games"! The next stop on the hop is Alexis Anne. Be sure to comment on each story to be eligible for the massive giveaway at the end. Thanks for joining us for #ValentinesRewind! ♥