The Lion's Den

I slip into the kitchen and pour myself a coffee. One hip leans against the counter and I sip the nectar of the busy-as-fuck. I mentally run through my day, thinking about my grandmother, who raised me. Gran was amazing, but not always the most reliable, and I miss her horribly.

“Clara?” I cringed at the whining worry in her voice. “Are you going out?” Hand on the doorknob, I let out a breath. Slow. Steady. “Stay in with me. We can play checkers.” My entire body tensed. Ah, hell no. “You always liked checkers.” Not anymore, I don’t. The door clicked closed behind me.

Above my head, silk scarves bind my wrists together and to the headboard. Two more tie each ankle to the footboard. Head turns to my left as a door opens, then closes, and footsteps click across the hardwood floor. Mattress dips down. A weight moves over me. My breathing quickens. Shallow. Rough. Apprehension wrestles with the excitement coursing through me.

Soft whimpers fill my mouth. Leak from beneath the leather strapping holding the ball gag in my mouth. I swallow saliva as it pools along my tongue. My back arches, pushing my tits into the palms rubbing over them, the nipples pebbled and aching.

Lips wrap around a nipple. A hand slaps the other. Two fingers pinch it. Teeth clamp down on the other, lips kissing it better.

Lust and ecstasy explode through me. Mind fills with pleasure. I want to cry out. Tell my...