Wanton Wednesday: Crown, F/m, NSFW, Part 1

Cut for NSFW, F/m piece. Part 1 of 2. It’s a shame Wanton Wednesday is finishing in a few weeks time, just as I was planning to start having a go of it! Oh well, let’s make this one and the next count for something. 😉

Wanton Wednesday

The box Larissa brought with her contained black cord, a jar of honey, a silver spoon with a long, spindly handle…and a triple crown cock ring.

Oh hell…

The last item K. picked up with pinched fingers, like he was holding a dead mouse by the tail, and examined held out from him as far as his arm could stretched, eyes glancing at it almost sideways.

Larissa giggled, and he looked at her sharply. “No.”

One explosive word, and she stopped giggling. Larissa’s face became hard and serious, and she pulled her clinging navy sweater over her head.

“Why not?”

As the sweater fell to the floor, she leaned forward, her breasts pushing together, raising the ruffles of her bright blue bra. K. swallowed; Larissa hadn’t worn that one for a while. He never told her, but it was his favourite. His eyes traveled to her legs – clad in dark denim, stretched tight over her glorious full thighs.

His hand started to shake. “For goodness sake,” he muttered. He tossed the triple crown on the coffee table; it clacked on the wood with the weight of a falling sword. K. crossed his arms, feet rooted to the ground, legs apart. For once, just once, he would take a stand. Larissa could push him to the edge, but she wasn’t going to send him falling off it.

Larissa straightened up, her breasts shifting again to ease. He sometimes wondered how she would look with longer hair, if it would spill over her body like water. Yet…she would not be Larissa without the peroxide spikes, the ruby-red nails sharpened to points. With long hair, she would have been a witch to him; instead, she was all power, pride, strength he used to think he possessed, until he met her.

K. never thought he’d enjoy being beaten in a match of physical skill by a woman. But she’d been taking bets in the bar that night for arm wrestles, he’d sat down with cool confidence, sure of his win.

And damn him if her victorious grin, and those hard, diamond-blue eyes hadn’t made his cock so hard so fast he’d had trouble standing up.

Larissa said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

K. looked at her askance. “Yeah?”

Her response was faux demure, a mockery of sweetness. “Not today. That’s a promise.”

“What’s that about then?” He pointed at the triple crown.

“We take it off if it starts to hurt.” She spoke flatly, with a finality that suggested he was an idiot for thinking otherwise. Despite the stance he took, K. flinched, and could only look at her from under his eye lashes, apologetic.

“It’s not about hurting you – it’s about challenging you.” She smirked. “The honey is a reward.”

That made him smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Larissa held up the black cord, twined around her fingers. “I want to see how far you can go.” She plucked at the strand that ran between them as if it were a guitar string, and grinned, her teeth a mere sliver of white between her red lips.

Then she said, her voice frighteningly steady, “Take off your clothes, and pick it up again, my sweet.”

The spot at the base of K’s throat pulsed. Damn, he thought, and blood streaked up his thighs and along his now-hardening cock. Still, though his breath was unsteady, he undressed inch by inch. She snapped the cord a couple of times, the heavy pluck resonating, but he didn’t move any faster. When he was naked, he curled the triple crown into his palm, and knelt, hands folded in front of him, just hovering over his hard-on. Heat rushed down his spine as her nails skimmed the back of his neck.

On to Part 2