Page 51 of The Intimacy of Control

Like this one.

I gripped the sheets beneath me, anxiously waiting as he walked back into the bedroom. He was holding something in his hands. Something black. “I noticed something on your list, Jackson.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t like bondage, but you seem to like sensory restriction. Is that right?”

I looked back at what he was holding. It was a blindfold. I swallowed, tilting my head. “Yeah. I don’t want my hands or body bound. But I like not being able to see sometimes. It feels like it heightens everything.”

“Because it does. It makes everything ten times better. I want you to stand and undress for me. I’m going to blind you, and then I’m going to dress you in your gift. Does that sound okay?”

Dress me in my gift? This was why he needed my sizes. “Yes. Yes, that sounds fine.” I stood up, taking everything off one by one. He was watching me. Waiting. Staring at me like he couldn’t get enough of me.

Once I had everything off, he stepped closer, stopping right in front of me. “I’m going to take your sight, Jackson. I’m going to control your body, and you’re going to love it. But you remember your safe word, right?”

“Yes. Red.”

“Good boy.”

Slowly, he placed the blindfold over my eyes, making sure it sat flush against the back of my head. He adjusted it a couple of times until I was shrouded in nothing but darkness and the vague idea of light around me.

I tried to listen to his movements. Every rustle of his sweatpants or tank top as he moved around me. I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t feel him. But I knew he was there. He had me.

“Stay still, sweetie.” I heard him get closer before he touched my leg. “Up.” I moved my foot up, letting him slide something on me. I did the same for the other foot.

It felt like…lace. Lace and straps. Oh, my god.

I gasped as he ran his fingers under the straps that sat along my ass cheeks. “Holy fuck. Lingerie?”

“Lingerie, baby,” he whispered. He was a lot closer to me now. Right by my ear.

Something went over my neck. Some sort of fabric with something dangling. I wasn’t sure what it was, and I was about to ask when Forrest tugged on it, pulling me toward him. I whimpered into the air as I realized it was a collar and leash of some sort. Only enough pressure on my throat to remind me who controlled me, yet not enough to constrict me in any real way.

Every touch of his skin on mine felt like little shocks. I leaned into him as he raked his hands all over me. My arms. My stomach. My chest. My upper thighs. He was touching me like he was memorizing me. Like I was invaluable. Precious.

“Tonight”—he whispered against my ear, pressing his lips against my skin—“is all about you, Jackson. Your pleasure, and my control over it.”

I swallowed, feeling a tremble begin in my body.

“I’m going to make you come in your brand new lace panties.”

Oh, God.

“And then I’ll make you come again. But I won’t stop there. No, Jackson.” He licked a stripe up the side of my neck and used his other hand to tug on the collar around my throat. “You look far too sexy for me to stop there. I’m going to play with you. I’m going to use you. Own you.”

I was already aching, and we hadn’t even started. “Please,” I whimpered. “I want it. I want you.”

“You’ll get me.” He cupped my cock over the lace, squeezing with exactly enough pressure to drive me wild. “God, you’re so beautiful. Stay right where you are.”

It was hard to stay still. Really fucking hard when I knew he was right there, taking me in like he was. It was even harder when I heard a thunk and could suddenly feel his breath on my crotch.

“Fuck. So gorgeous.” His words were breathy moans as he sucked on my clothed cock. He was licking me. Nuzzling me with his nose. Circling his tongue over the fabric, mixing his spit with the precum I’d already leaked.

Torture. That’s what it was. Absolute torture as he laved over me, gripping my thighs periodically. I wanted to see him. Watch him tear me apart. But I couldn’t, and that somehow made it even better.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, needing something to hold on to. It made him stop, pulling away even as I whined about it. “Hold on, sweetheart. Let me grab something.”

I didn’t want him to grab something. I wanted him to take me out of my misery. Make me come like he’d said he would.