Page 85 of Cartel Prince

“You did a lot of shopping, Daddy.”

“I had some time on my way to a meeting yesterday.”

“Did you buy out an entire store?”

“It’s not that much.”

She moves on to the second box where she discovers a swing. Her smile explodes as she rips open the package. However, she stops pulling it out midway.

“This doesn’t come with a stand. It’s meant to be suspended from a hook in a load-bearing beam. We can’t use it yet.”

“Gather what you want to use tonight and go in our bedroom.”

Her brow furrows as I take the swing from her and place it back in the larger shipping box. She scoops up everything she can like she’s in the old game show where people sweep through the supermarket and knock as much stuff off the shelf and into their cart as they can. When she nearly drops half of it, she gives up and tosses things back into the original box. She hoists that and hurries toward our room, looking back over her shoulder. I’m on her heels as I laugh at her excitement.

After the stress this evening put on both of us, it’s nice to see how relaxed she is. I know it’s because we’re alone—and the prospect of kinky ass sex—but at least she isn’t crying. My heart ached for her when she burst into tears the first time. I couldn’t fault her for it. It frustrated me the second time. Not at her but at myself. I can’t fix this and make it right for her as fast as I want.

I’m a man who eats, sleeps, and breathes control. I feel useless and adrift when I don’t have it. It usually means shit’s about to go sideways. It’s one thing when it’s a business deal. That’ll piss me off. But when it’s my girlfriend’s life—I’m ready to go positively apeshit.

We both need some time to explore and play together. We set the boxes on the bed, and I point up near the floor-to-ceiling window. Her mouth drops open, and once again, my mind conjures dirty, dirty things I want to do to that pretty little mouth.

“Keep looking at me like that, and you’ll swallow my cock rather than play with our new toys.”

She licks her lips, and I pounce. I hope she doesn’t like her shirt that much. I grab it where the buttons run down the center and yank it apart. She squeaks as I pull it down her arms. I’m quick to unhook her bra, then I spin her around. I grab a set of handcuffs from the box and snap them on her wrists.

“Face me.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I fish around and find a set of nipple clamps and a light labia weight. I practically shred the packaging in my haste.

“Squeeze your tits together.”

She obeys, pushing them up in offering. I lick her right nipple, then roll it between my thumb and index finger. When it’s nice and hard, I clip the metal prongs around it. These aren’t the ones with the rubber pads. I repeat my actions on the left side.

“Tell me when to stop tightening,chiquita.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I’m slow as I turn the little dial on each. I assess her expression and how her body reacts to the increasing pain. When she flinches, I stop. It’s just as she speaks.

“That’s enough,Papí.”

“Good girl.”

I unzip the skirt she’s wearing and push it to the floor. I reach behind me and pull out the crop she stood up in the box. She watches me with curiosity and then a smidge of trepidation. She widens her feet as I run the leather flapper up the inside of herthighs. I flick my wrist to I swat the flesh on both sides. She sucks in a breath, but it whooshes from her when I slap her clit.

“I was going to hang the swing for us,chiquita. But you distracted me with that generous offer. On your knees.”

She obeys as I let the crop trail up her body as she lowers herself. I attach the weight to the chain between her tits. She whimpers.

“Chiquita, what’s your safe word?”

“Rios, Papí.”

“Say it if you need it.”

“I will. I promise. You haven’t done anything I don’t like. That was an ‘I want more,’ not an ‘I want less,’ sound.”