Page 109 of Carved Obsession

“Yes,” she whimpers.

“Yes?”

“Sir.”

Good fucking girl.

“Curtains open or closed?” I ask.

“Whatever you wish.”

I walk to the window and stop. “Do you want to see yourself, or them?”

“Whatever you wish,” she repeats. How annoying.

Out of spite, I open the curtains as they are, mirror deactivated. The crowd hasn’t left. More have joined, and they stare at Scarlet like she’s fucking dessert, even though their evening is just starting.

I walk around, stopping behind her, close enough to hear her ragged breaths. This is definitely not BDSM. If it was, we would thrive on comfort, even if discomfort was the sub’s request. We would thrive on rules, prior approvals, and mountains of consent. Normally, I would ask her if she was ready.

Not now.

I pull on the small ribbon behind her neck, watching the crowd as the dress falls and gathers on her hips. I enjoy their approving gazes as Scarlet’s breath hitches. Then I walk to the wall and table that hold the myriad toys, turning to admire her in the teddy I got her. My mouth fucking waters, but I pause when my gaze falls on the small, thin bandage on the side of her abdomen. I didn’t forget, but with the brutal requests she’s making, it feels like she has.

She said she’s fine, but I have to keep an even closer eye on her.

“Have I told you I have a thing for stretching?” It’s a rhetorical question. I know I haven’t.

I pick up the inflatable dildo to see if she squirms. She doesn’t. Maybe the pastel-colored tentacle toy? She tenses but looks more intrigued than apprehensive. Putting it down, I go for what I wanted in the first place—the thigh-strapped pussy spreader. She attempts to close her legs, and I know I have a winner.

The next thing I grab is the metal cat-claw scratcher I thoroughly enjoy. I slide it over my middle finger, testing it on my palm to ensure it’s the right sharpness without cutting through.

I show her the spreader, giving her one more opportunity to think twice about this. She doesn’t say a thing, and I’m both disappointed and excited all at once. I pull gently on her dress, watching it pool on the floor at her feet.

She’s fucking gorgeous, and seeing those pussy lips peeking through the crotchless panties makes me fucking hard. I grab the dress, take it to the leather bench, then walk back, circling her like she’s prey. Beautifully exposed without being fully naked, she makes the lace teddy look stunning.

In the past, the women I brought here stripped completely, but I couldn’t bring myself to request this of Scarlet. I’m telling myself that it’s for her comfort, but...it might be for mine.

I adjust the room’s color temperature to a warm, comforting glow, then turn on music using the tablet on the table. A sultry song starts, and I watch in delight as Scarlet squirms in her bindings.

“I think it’s time, kitten,” I say as I swipe my metal-clawed finger down her cleavage, leaving a pink weal down her chest.

The first of many.

I drop down on one knee, face to face with her sweet, beautiful cunt. I allow myself one extra second before I strap her ankles to the spreader bar. A grin threatens to pull at my cheeks; she can’t fucking move—can barely protest. She’s fully at my mercy.

With each of my movements, her breathing becomes more labored, her gaze filled with nervous, impatient energy. She licks her lips like all the water in her body pools in one specific spot, draining her. Her pretty cunt is already wet. I can fucking see it.

With her eyes trained on me, I suck two fingers between my lips, then glide them through the slick seam of her pussy, enjoying her muted gasp. Once more, I tease her, dragging those digits over her entrance but never entering her, even as she squirms for it.

Perfect.

I pluck from my pocket one of the leather-strapped spreader clamp sets, and her lips part in slight shock when I gently pinch the top side of her right labia and fit one of the clamps on it. I check the tightness and gently adjust before I circle the strap around her thigh and repeat the action further down. I adjust the strap until one side of her core is beautifully spread, then grab the other clamp set, fit it on her left labia and around her thigh, and spread her core until she’s fully open.

I exhale slowly, blowing all that air over her opening, watching how it pulses and begs to be filled. She moans something filthy under her breath, and I bring that metal-clawed middle finger to her pussy. I scratch the sharp end on the inside of her labia, marveling at the goosebumps that bloom over her thighs and belly.

Her gaze flickers to the crowd gathered by the window as I continue the sharp exploration on her sensitive inner thigh. Holding her gaze, I press the tip deeper as I bear down on that sensitive bundle of nerves with two fingers. She cries out and the thinnest trace of blood appears from the scratch, but she doesn’t protest one bit.

I repeat the motions on the other thigh, scraping the claw gently in a spiral motion before I press it harder, applying more pressure on her clit at the same time.