Olivia’s POV
Louis’s thumb lingered at my jaw for a mont before he stepped back, his presence pulling away just enough to make my body ache for it. His eyes swept over , sharp and assessing, like he was reading not just my body but my soul.
"Stay where you are," he ordered, his voice calm but authoritative.
I froze, every nerve on edge. My wolf didn’t fight him—she stilled, waiting, obeying. Louis moved past toward the sleek cabinet against the wall. He opened it with a key, the quiet click of the lock echoing in the dim room. When the doors swung open, my breath hitched.
Inside, neatly arranged and gleaming under the soft light, lay his tools. Cuffs of leather, polished steel restraints, coils of rope, a spread of floggers and paddles in varying shades and textures—all organized with precision. Each one whispered of a world I’d never stepped into, but one he clearly lived in with intention. Louis’s hand hovered before selecting a single item: a pair of soft black leather cuffs lined with velvet. He shut the cabinet, turned, and walked back to with that sa unshakable calmness.
My heart hamred, my body trembling, but I didn’t move.
"Hands," he said firmly.
I lifted them slowly, palms up, and he took them into his much larger hands. His touch was warm, grounding, almost tender as he buckled the cuffs around my wrists. He was precise, adjusting them until they fit snug but not tight. When he finished, he threaded his fingers lightly over the leather, checking, testing, ensuring I felt no discomfort.
"Too tight?" he asked.
I shook my head quickly. "No... it feels..." My voice caught, my cheeks heating. "It feels good."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth, though his eyes stayed serious. "If that changes, you tell . Say red, and everything stops. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I whispered.
Louis leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear, his tone darker now. "It’s yes Master... Olivia... the next ti you say just yes, you will be punished."
A shiver raked down my spine, heat flooding my core at his words. He guided slowly toward the padded bench in the center of the room.
"Lean forward," he instructed, his tone steady and authoritative.
I obeyed, my chest tightening as I bent slightly at the waist, pressing my hips and stomach against the cool padded leather. The position forced my back to arch, my breasts pushing forward, my lace-covered nipples aching as they brushed the air. My legs stayed planted firmly on the ground, though they trembled under , the anticipation winding tighter with every heartbeat.
Louis raised my cuffed wrists and secured them to the straps fixed above the bench, holding in place. I tested the restraint instinctively, but there was no escape—it was snug, firm, yet not painful. Just enough to remind that I was his to command.
The vulnerability of it made heat curl through , low and insistent. I could feel how wet I already was, my thighs pressing together in vain.
Louis stepped back, studying with a gaze that was equal parts hunger and control.
"You’re beautiful like this," he said, his voice roughened now. His fingers trailed down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, slow and deliberate, making gasp. Then he picked up sothing from the bench’s side—a soft flogger, its strands thin, supple, and harmless-looking in his grip.
He held it where I could see, his eyes locking on mine. "I’ll start gentle," he promised, though his voice carried the weight of command. "And you will tell everything you feel."
My lips parted, a shiver of nerves and arousal rushing through . "Yes, Louis," I whispered, breathless.
Shit! A mistake.
He lifted the flogger, and the first whisper-soft stroke landed across my ass, light as a feather. The sensation jolted , a shudder rolling through my body. My nipples hardened painfully, my pussy throbbing with desperate desire.
Louis’s mouth curved in the faintest, satisfied smile. "It’s Master, Liv," he murmured, his tone both annoyed and possessive. "Now, let’s see how much of you’re ready to take."
The second stroke of the flogger landed on my ass, firr this ti, a sting rippling across my skin. I gasped, my breath hitching as my body arched against the padded bench.
Louis’s hand moved suddenly, tugging the lace of my panties aside. The cool air hit , and before I could process it, his fingertip brushed against my slick pussy. My whole body jolted.
"You’re soaked," he murmured, his voice a deep growl that slid down my spine. His finger lingered at my entrance, circling, teasing, never quite giving what I craved. "So wet... from just a few strokes. My greedy little wolf."
A moan broke from my lips before I could stop it. The sound filled the room, needy and raw.
The flogger struck again, sharper this ti, making cry out. Louis leaned close, his mouth brushing my ear, his voice low and rciless. "I didn’t give you permission to make that sound."
My thighs trembled. "I—I’m sorry, Master—"
Another strike, quick, controlled, pulling a whimper from . His finger returned, sliding lightly inside , drawing a fresh wave of wetness he knew I couldn’t hide.
"You’ll hold it in until I say otherwise," he commanded, each word firm, absolute. "No moaning. No begging. You only give what I allow."
The flogger hit across my skin again, a sting followed by the maddening caress of his finger. My chest heaved, my lips parted, desperate to cry out, but I bit down hard, swallowing the sound. The battle burned through —obedience versus desire, restraint versus release.
Louis’s chuckle rumbled low, darkly pleased. "Good girl," he praised, his hand pressing against my lower back to keep steady. "Now let’s see how long you last."
The flogger bit into my skin again, followed by the tornt of his fingers circling inside my pussy, stroking just enough to make burn with need. My body writhed against the bench, my wrists tugging at the restraints, my breath ragged as tears slipped hot and unbidden down my cheeks.
"Still," Louis ordered, his hand pressing firmly against my back. His voice carried no room for defiance.
"Yes, Master," I whispered, trembling.
He withdrew his hand and stepped away, the absence of his touch almost worse than the flogger’s sting. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
I heard him move, the soft thud of a drawer sliding open. My throat tightened when he returned, sothing smooth brushing over my temple. A strip of fabric.
A blindfold.
Louis slipped it over my eyes, tying it firmly behind my head. Darkness swallowed instantly, and my body went rigid. The world shrank to sound, scent, and the ghost of his presence.
"Trust ," he murmured, low and commanding.
"Yes, Master," I breathed.
The flogger struck suddenly, sharper now, my body jolting against the cuffs. I bit my lip, swallowing the cry that rose in my throat. Then... silence. Long, heavy silence.
My chest rose and fell fast, straining for any clue. Footsteps? A whisper? Nothing. The stillness drove mad. I strained my ears, desperate to know where he was, what he was doing. Every second stretched, my breath ragged, my body trembling in the dark.
Then sothing else touched —unexpected, startling.
A drop of liquid heat spilled onto my back. I gasped, the sensation burning for an instant before softening into a deep, strange ache. Another drop followed, sliding down the curve of my shoulder blade, hotter, heavier, making jolt against the cuffs and gasp aloud.
Candle wax.
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