Page 62 of His Dark Pact

Her toes curled as her lips parted, awareness that she was actively participating in her disgrace compounding her feelings as he steered the ring toward her mouth.

“Now, close your mouth around it,” he instructed as he walked behind her.

She tried to obey, settling her lips over the edge of the rubber as he tugged the straps and fastened them behind her head. It was the strangest sensation. The ring held her mouth open, and although her tongue was free to roam around its interior, she was no longer able to close her lips or, she assumed, speak properly.

“Turn around.” A smug grin lit up his face as she did as he asked. The moment she was compelled to meet his gaze again was agonizing, his delay in speaking only lengthening her ordeal. “You look gorgeous.”

She doubted that very much.

“So fucking tempting.” He reached for her breasts and clasped them in his hands. “If I didn’t need a cleaner so much, I’d have you over that couch again in a heartbeat.”

A desperate mewl escaped her throat at his teasing proposition. She hankered for that, longed to feel the strength of his body behind her when he took what he wanted.

“Later.” He threw her a wink as his fingers and thumbs pinched her needy nipples. “First, there’s work to be done.”

She watched as he stalked back to the chair, vaguely conscious that she should resume her task, yet unable to persuade her feet to move. She shifted just as he relaxed back in his chair, grabbing the dusting cloth and the glass figurine she’d been cleaning before her alleged error.

Standing there in his drawing room, with her breasts and tender ass exposed and her mouth gagged, a surge of rapture rose from within.

She was being humiliated past anything she’d believed was possible, but even as he pushed her to the depths, her body responded, and she could feel herself coming to life. It was as though the lower she went, the higher she flew, and the throbbing at her clit assured her she would fly—just as soon as there was an opportunity.

Her jaw ached as the time passed, the ring forced into her mouth applying equal pressure to both her chin and her clitoris. For every inch of her that loathed its terrible effect, there was another part that reveled in her belittlement. It was a side of her she’d never acknowledged until Kyle had bowled into her life.

Not being able to speak was new territory for her, though, and as frustrating as it was, there was something terrifically arousing about his ability to control her. Sure, she could have tackled the clasp and removed it herself, but she found she had no desire to. She wanted to endure it for him, wanted to know how much of the ache she could take and, critically, what recompense he would offer in exchange for her obedience.

Amy’s head fogged with the quandary as she glided the cloth over each intricate figurine. She had no idea how long she stood there, her legs trembling as she polished one piece after the next. Glancing up, she realized she’d completed the vast majority of his ornaments and had dusted the shelves they sat upon. The version of the dresser in front of her now was unrecognizable to the one she’d found when she walked into the room. It was a fitting analogy for her own transformation.

“What a tremendous job you’ve done.”

She hadn’t even heard him moving, but by the time she’d turned her head, he was right there with her, assessing her work.

“Well done, Amy.”

Her chest heaved as she absorbed his approval. It was what she burned for, of course—to be in his favor—yet after so long, the passion inside of her was so great, it was difficult to think of anything except her arousal.

“Here.” He walked behind her, tugging at the straps until they hung free from the sides of her mouth. She waited like a well-trained animal for him to give the order before she dropped the callous ring onto his unfolded hand, along with a mortifying amount of her own drool. “How was it?”

“Horrible,” she murmured.

“And?” His tone was as knowing as normal.

“And ridiculously hot, sir.”

Where there might once have been shame at the confession, she felt only liberation. She had found the gag arousing, and there was no point attempting to deceive him. He already knew how horny she was, and she was more than happy to illustrate the point for him.

“There’s my good girl.” The sparkle in his eyes conveyed how happy he was, her pride swelling at the perplexing thought.

That she should care what he thought of her work was natural, she supposed—he was paying her for it—but that she should have come to crave his approval was something else completely. She’d never known such a complicated connection.

“You’ve definitely merited your reward.”

“Sir?”

She was breathless as his hand rose and slid into the back of her hair. By the time she’d adjusted to the tug at her scalp, he’d already swooped, his mouth colliding with hers for a punishing kiss.