What keeps the world moving? Love? Certainly not. Hope? Not really. Money? Absolutely, and no one knows it better than the rich upper class elites of India. But money is not the only thing you can earn. In fact, these elites will tell you there is o...
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"We'll see about that. Remember your safe word? You're going to need it, sweetheart." Vihaan's voice is low, teasing, dripping with a confidence that sends a shiver down my spine. Before I can come up with a retort, I hear the unmistakable thawp of his belt being undone. The noise echoes in between my legs, and I'm sure my panties must be dripping with arousal. My breath hitches, my body betraying me in a way I hadn't anticipated.
Fuck, I knew I was attracted to Vihaan, I just didn't know how much until now. I've never entertained the idea of giving up control, of surrendering myself to someone else. The thought of BDSM had always seemed... unnecessary, not something I needed or wanted. But with Vihaan, the idea doesn't just appeal to me—it consumes me.
Vihaan grips both of my wrists with one hand, his touch firm yet not painful. My heart races, not from fear, but from the overwhelming mix of emotions that swirl within me—excitement, anticipation, a hint of vulnerability I hadn't expected. His gaze locks onto mine, his eyes searching, intense, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of us.
"Do you trust me?" he whispers, the question hanging in the air between us. It's a stark contrast to the confident, almost cocky tone he had used just moments before. Now, there's something softer, more vulnerable in his voice.
The weight of his question presses down on me, forcing me to confront the reality of what's happening. Trust. It's a word I've never taken lightly, something I've guarded fiercely. And yet, here I am, contemplating surrendering it to him. The thought terrifies me, not because I doubt him, but because I don't doubt him. I trust him more than I ever thought I could trust anyone, and that's what scares me the most. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, and nod slowly.
"Say it, Samiksha." He says almost impatiently, and I can not decide which I like better- hearing him say my first or last name. Samiksha carries a sense of intimacy, like he's speaking to the person I am when the walls are down. But Mrs. Randhawa... that title holds a different kind of power, a reminder of who I am to him, and how far we've come. Both versions of me are intertwined in his voice, and I can't help but want to hear both, over and over again.
"Yes," I finally breathe out, my voice barely a whisper, but the conviction behind it is undeniable.
Vihaan's grip on my wrists tightens ever so slightly, and I can see the tension in his shoulders ease, the concern in his eyes giving way to something darker, something that ignites a fire deep within me. Without wasting any more time, he slaps my thigh with one hand and I wrap it around his waist. He takes a few steps to the wooden partition between the living room and the kitchen, and pushes both my hands above my head and ties them to a wooden beam with his belt. My bra gets lost somewhere between the journey from the window to the wooden panel, the cool air touching my bare breasts.
The leather digs into my skin when I move my hands even a tiny bit. My eyes never leaves Vihaan's face and after he's done, he meets it with his own. The muscle in his jaw twitches, as if he's mad at me or at himself. After a second's worth of hesitation, he tugs at the knot of his tie, pulling it free before using it as a blindfold. I open my mouth to protest, but think better of it and close it again. I am a little confused by this act because Vihaan has always demanded that I look him in his eyes when he's fingering me, fucking me or eating me out.
