Jill scoots to the edge of the bed. It's a nice view from this angle, and she bends down to kiss him, tongue shamelessly passing over his chin. She's helping.
He wants to reach up and cup her face and kiss her with gusto, but orders are orders, and he sets about unbuttoning the half of his shirt he’d bothered to do up this morning. She’s pretty, especially above him.
“Yes, my lady,” he murmurs, nose to nose with her, as he shrugs out of the shoulders.
He tosses the shirt aside, his broad shoulders rolling as he comes back to her for her next order.
“Enough to be seen in public with a beauty like you,” he says, mildly teasing — he’ll take the compliment, even if it doesn’t feel particularly true. He lifts his chin, almost coming close to a kiss, and then starts on his belt buckle.
He says what he thinks she wants to hear. She watches him with a patient smile despite the bitter thought that if he truly believed it, they would be together. Not just like this, when lonely or longing for one another, but always.
He nods and pulls away from her to get to his feet. Undressing is an affair undertaken with a sober efficiency far more suited to a military barrack than a strip club, but he trusts she knows what she wants out of it: the sight of him dropping his jeans to reveal the deep creases of his cum gutters, the root of his cock in a thatch of dark hair, the muscled tops of his thighs. He steps out of the jeans and tosses them aside with one foot. At full height, he looms over her, over six feet of muscle and scarred skin, his expression marking his eagerness to be following orders like these. His cock is at half-mast, bobbing.
He's gorgeous. Jill openly admires him, eyes slowly moving down his body. A body born from a difficult life, but one she has the honor of pleasuring. Even now.
The socks can stay on. Jill stays seated, and looks back up at Clive's face with an amused smile.
He slowly sinks to one knee, his eyes trained on her even as he bends and reaches for the discarded belt on the floor. When he picks it up, he coils it between his hands, rendering it more presentable, befitting an offering.
“Yes, my lady.”
When he places it in her hand, it’s with a head bowed low.
She will. She does, lips pressed into a thin line as she wraps the belt around his wrists, securing them together. She gives a little tug to be sure she's done enough, but if he truly wished to slip out, he could probably manage. There's no need to cut off his circulation.
She doesn't particularly love this for a number of reasons, but he wants it. So she does, too. She looks up at him. Checking in.
He meets her gaze with tempered excitement. Last time they’d flirted with this, she’d balked at this part, and he’d feared scaring her off. She doesn’t look particularly enthused now, to his eyes, but she’s game. That’s a start. His heart hammers.
"Isn't that for me to know and you to find out?" That he wants this so badly spurs her on. Jill smiles a little easier as she steps behind him, and slips her arms around his middle. A sweet little hug, a squeeze of affection, becomes far less innocent as she lets her hands blindly roam his abdomen, cheek pressed to his back.
Her fingers trace down his cum gutters until one hand finds his cock, and she hums as she takes him in hand.
His back swells under her cheek as he breathes in, head falling forward as he looks down at the belt wound around his wrists. He has to extend his hands further ahead of him to see beyond them, to see the dainty crux of her thumb and her fingers coiled around his shaft.
Don't think of a chocobo, and what comes to mind first? He blinks it off –– her hand is here, her grip strong, and her breath is warm on his back. He relaxes against her embrace, elbows tucking in as he tries and fails to reach for her. He's still bound.
Very obedient. Jill feels his urge to reach for her, and that makes this sweeter. He wants to touch her so quickly.
Jill lets go of his cock to pull away, and as she steps back, she can't resist the urge to give his ass a smack. It hardly stings, just enough to make a noise, and she breaks character immediately with a laugh because it's that unlike her. Grabs? Sure. Smacks? A little more crude.
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"Take off your clothes." Now it's an order.
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“Yes, my lady,” he murmurs, nose to nose with her, as he shrugs out of the shoulders.
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"You grow more handsome with the years." Long gone are the soft curves of boyhood.
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“Enough to be seen in public with a beauty like you,” he says, mildly teasing — he’ll take the compliment, even if it doesn’t feel particularly true. He lifts his chin, almost coming close to a kiss, and then starts on his belt buckle.
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"You've always been the most attractive man no matter where we are."
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"I have him," she agrees quietly.
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“And what would you have him do next?”
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She can't help but return the smile. He's most handsome when he smiles.
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He still has his socks on.
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The socks can stay on. Jill stays seated, and looks back up at Clive's face with an amused smile.
"Very good. Now, your belt."
She holds out a hand expectantly.
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on the floor. When he picks it up, he coils it between his hands, rendering it more presentable, befitting an offering.
“Yes, my lady.”
When he places it in her hand, it’s with a head bowed low.
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She moves to stand, too.
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"Give me your wrists."
He didn't specify how he wished to be tied up, so she's doing what she wants.
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She doesn't particularly love this for a number of reasons, but he wants it. So she does, too. She looks up at him. Checking in.
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“What next?” he murmurs.
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Her fingers trace down his cum gutters until one hand finds his cock, and she hums as she takes him in hand.
"I have you at my mercy."
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“You can do whatever you wish to me,” he murmurs.
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"I want you to only think of me."
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"You're the only one," he says.
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Jill lets go of his cock to pull away, and as she steps back, she can't resist the urge to give his ass a smack. It hardly stings, just enough to make a noise, and she breaks character immediately with a laugh because it's that unlike her. Grabs? Sure. Smacks? A little more crude.
"Sorry," she says, amused. "On the bed with you."
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