Permission To Ruin Him (2)
My mind flashes back to six months ago… the wedding.
My mother was glowing more than usual, finally married to a man with enough money to keep her in silk for a lifetime. I was standing by the bar in a dress that was definitely too short and too tight for a "family" event.
I’ve always been that girl—the one who wears her sensuality like a second skin, unapologetic and bold.
Then I saw Max. He was standing in the corner, a glass of bourbon in his hand, looking like he wanted to burn the whole reception hall down. Our eyes met, and that was it. He saw exactly who I was behind the lace and the smiles.
Three months later, the contract was signed. Three months of these Tuesdays and Thursdays that have become the only time I feel truly alive. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, even though it’s a ticking time bomb.
If Mom or my stepfather ever found out I was spending my evenings being disciplined by uncle Max… and now disciplining him… the scandal would destroy everything.
But the danger only makes the heat between us burn hotter.
I refocus on the present, picking up the paddle and trailing it across his skin.
"You've been so busy being the villain, Uncle," I whisper, circling the bed like a predator. "Let’s see if we can whip the malice right out of you."
I flick my wrist. The leather snaps through the air, making him flinch hard. His blue eyes follow me, blown wide, tracking the whip as if it’s a living thing.
I let it land across his thighs first.
He let out a choked sound, his chest heaving, but I don't stop. I find a rhythm, moving between his stomach and his legs. Each strike leaves a spreading warmth in its wake.
I’m not just hitting him; I’m painting him in shades of red.
Max begins to thrash, his hips bucking against the mattress. He mumbles something through the gag, his eyes darting toward the array of toys on the bed.
I follow his gaze and smile. “You want the cage?”
He nods.
I drop the paddle and reach for it.
"This is what you want?" I ask, my voice dropping to a low, sultry purr. "You want me to lock you away? To take the choice of your own pleasure out of your hands?"
He nods frantically, his muffled grunts turning into a pleading whine. I reach down and pull his boxers off, letting the cool air brush his skin. His scent hits me immediately, thick and sharp.
Leaning over him, I position the device, taking my time before getting it right. And then a thought flashes through my mind.
Why am I doing as he says?
If I am the one in control, I shouldn’t be the one reacting.
His chest rises hard, the restraints creaking as he strains against them. He’s waiting. Not just for my hand but for my obedience.
I do not move.
For the first time since this started, he is the one suspended in uncertainty.
His gaze hardens. The old authority flashes back into his eyes.
For a heartbeat, doubt claws up my spine.
I remember every time he made me obey.
My body wants to fall back into the old pattern.
The risk presses against my chest, making it hard to breathe. One wrong move and he could take control again, and I’d slip back into the role I know too well.
I swallow. Then I lift my chin and straighten.
No. Not tonight.
“Guess what, Uncle,” I purr. “You’re in for a wild ride. And you don’t get to make demands. You want me to punish you, yeah?”
He grunts into the gag, nodding.
“Good,” I murmur, slapping his cheek lightly. “Now, you’ll do as I say.”
I loosen the leather cuffs.
He stays still, waiting. Only when I give the word does he move, careful and controlled, as if he’s afraid of what might come next.
“Take off my underwear,” I command.
His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t question. Not like he can with his mouth gagged.
I watch him drop to his knees, his movements jerky and frantic as he reaches for my panties and pulls them down with a reverence that borders on desperation.
He looks up at me, his blue eyes searching mine, waiting for the next command in this new, shifted reality.
I gently sit on the edge of the bed and invite him with my index and middle fingers. He starts to move towards me instantly.
I look at him, seeing the way his pupils are blown so wide there’s barely any blue left.
“You’ve spent months in my ear, telling me how to move, what to do,” I whisper, my hair falling around us like a curtain.
“Tonight, you’re just a mouth. My mouth.” I lean closer. “I want every breath you take to be about me. Suck my pussy, Max.”
I reach forward and remove the gag. As soon as his tongue brushes my cunt, a jagged electric current bolts through my body. I'm trembling at just how skilled he is.
I’ve never had his mouth on me. Uncle Max is sadistic. He derives pleasure from causing pain…hopefully, only in the bedroom. I always wondered what his mouth on me would feel like, or if I’d ever get to experience it.
He works his tongue with steady, urgent movements, swirling and licking until my toes curl and I clutch his head for support.
"Yes," I hiss, my head falling back. "Just like that."
It feels incredible. It feels like a victory. I watch him through half-lidded eyes, his face buried between my thighs, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You taste… you taste so good.”
His hands tighten on my hips, and I feel the hunger in his eyes deepen.
The man who usually controls my every breath is now working for my pleasure, his pride completely discarded in favor of my satisfaction. I let out a low, guttural moan as the first wave of a climax begins to gather deep in my belly.
The ache in my core is delicious, raw, and unbearable, but I swallow it down, savoring the power I hold over him.
When the peak finally hits, it’s a total eclipse. I shatter above him, my breath hitching as I press myself harder against his mouth, letting him drink every bit of the pleasure he’s giving me.
As the heat slowly fades, I pull back, breathless. Max looks up at me, his lips wet, his chest heaving.
I look down at the cock cage, then back at his face. It’s hindering his erection and looks painfully tight.
"You want to come?"
“You know what I want,” he says, tight-voiced. “You’re just enjoying making me say it.”
"Hmm," I murmur. “Do you want me to go down on you?”
His jaw tightens first. Then his pride breaks.
"Yes."
God, I could take a photo of him like this and have it framed on my wall.
"Well, you won’t be getting that, Max.”
“What?”
“That's the real punishment, isn't it?" I lean over him, my lips brushing his ear. "You don't get to come. You don't even get to stay hard. You’ll stay like that until I decide you’ve earned the key. And considering how much I enjoyed that... it might be a very long time."