Russian Boss’s Secret Baby by Bella King

Ch 33

MIA

It’s been a few days since Slate brought me home from the mines. I’ve had some time to rest, and being able to just stay in bed for four days while I recovered was amazing. He made sure I had everything I could possibly want. He barely left my side unless he absolutely had to. At one point, I woke up in the middle of the night to him holding me so close I felt a little bit trapped. He does that now when he sleeps with me. It’s automatic.

In my compromised state, Slate wouldn’t even touch me until he was absolutely certain I wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces. I’ve tried here and there to get him into bed with me after I’ve showered, but he’s been so afraid of hurting me.

Today, though, I’m going to make sure that changes.

The bruises and ligatures on my body are healing well, and I no longer look like I’ve escaped a war-torn country. This morning, I chose to put on makeup for the first time since the day I found out I was pregnant.

Seeing myself with makeup on after a few days of not wearing it always feels really good for me. I love how elevated my whole appearance is, like my eyes are actually big and pretty and open, or that my skin is dewy and clear.

I know Slate notices too, because he asked if I was feeling much better today because I “look really healthy”, which I know is code for “you’re wearing makeup and I can’t tell”.

The contrast of my fatigued, bare face to my more intentional, pretty face has made a difference in my confidence as well. I ordered some new lingerie that I had been scared to try on, but now that I’ve been up and moving around more, I can’t wait for Slate to see me in it.

The lingerie reminds me of the dungeon, with straps and buckles instead of delicate lace like everything else I own. It crosses over my chest in black ribbons that almost form a harness around my ribcage. The panties and garter belt match, with hardly any skin actually being concealed beneath the fabric.

I’ve decided to let him find me in the dungeon like he did last time, except this time I won’t be afraid. I’ve climbed onto the main restraint bed, wrapping the cuffs around my ankles for him to find me here half-bound and ready for him.

I send him a text: “Hey, come up to the dungeon.”

I can see that he’s typing a response.

“Why?”

I sigh, my fingers flying over the keyboard again. “Just trust me.”

After about ten minutes of silence, I can hear him approaching the first door to the office that conceals the dungeon. I can feel myself getting a bit nervous as we haven’t had sex since the baby was conceived and I haven’t been in restraints enough to know if I’ll freak out.

Slate walks in and sees me, taking a cautious step back. “Mia, are you sure about this?” he asks, trying to conceal playful curiosity.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I say resolutely, still nervous about how I’ll react to being restrained. I want to learn how to turn him on the most, what makes him tick. If that’s having me restrained, I can do it.

He approaches me slowly, adding to the anticipation and increasing my heart rate. Without a word, he takes one wrist at a time and cuffs them to the bed, laying me down as he secures the second one. I pull on the restraints a bit to test that they’re secure, and immediately I feel a rush of anxiety as I have flashbacks of the mines where Katya had be restrained to a chair.

My breathing increases quickly and my face flushes. I try to focus on the ceiling for a moment to calm my nerves, but I’m unable to slow my breathing.

Slate notices immediately and stops touching me. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

I’m about to reply before I have to hold back tears.

“Is it the restraints? You don’t need to wear them, Mia. That doesn’t need to be a part of this if it makes you uncomfortable,” he says as he starts to take them off.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. After the trauma, not everything is as easy as it once was.

“Actually, do you want to restrain me?” he asks, and my anxiety abates and is replaced with curiosity and confusion.

“Have you ever done that before? With anyone?” I ask.

He pauses for a moment. “No, I haven’t, but I’ve always wanted to. You can do whatever you want to me, maybe that’ll help you ease into it a little.”

I stop to consider what he’s asking me to do. What would I do with a man who’s restrained? It’s always been me in the submissive role, not that I feel like Slate would even appear the slightest bit submissive even when retrained.

Somehow, he’d still be the one in power, if not just psychologically.

The idea does excite me though. It’s not something I’ve ever thought to explore, but the possibility of doing it now is almost overwhelmingly enticing.

“Okay, we can do that,” I reply, and we trade roles, him on the bed, and me tightening the leather straps around his wrists and ankles.

He looks at me cautiously at first, maybe he’s just now realizing how scary it is to be bound like that. “Be gentle with me,” he says jokingly.

He’s wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, so his body is easy for me to feel as I explore him. There’s enough space on the restraint bed for me to climb on top of him and straddle him.

At first, though, I don’t. I climb up and choose to keep my weight on my hands and knees as I line my body up with his and kiss his neck slowly and deeply. He smells so fucking good that I’m tempted to ride him to death then and there, but I know I need to take my time with this.

I continue kissing him, and I can feel him starting to squirm a bit. His body tenses as he pulls at the restraints automatically, and the feeling of him becoming overwhelmed and trying to escape my kisses arouses me like nothing ever has.

As I continue, I work my way down, pulling at the collar of his shirt for access to his shoulders and collar bones. Gentle moans escape him, and I press my hips into his as a tease, feeling his cock throb in his sweatpants.

We’ve hardly started and I’m already loving this. I grind myself on him just a bit as I lift his shirt, tracing my fingers down the sides of his body as his eyes beg me to go further, to do more. I know that the game isn’t fun without just a little bit of torture.

When I reach his hips, I lean down and kiss his hip bones, leaving marks as I bite and suck his skin. It feels almost like I’m branding him, leaving my own unique mark all over his body. It’s amazing to think that men almost always get to experience this power dynamic, like they get to own every woman they ever fuck.

I pull his sweatpants down and trace along the length of his cock with the back of my middle finger, feeling it pulse and resist me the more I touch it. I slide downward, giving myself more space as I lean down and start to tease him with my mouth, licking just around his cock without touching it.

Then, I pause for a moment, letting the desire become more and more unbearable before I run my tongue along the entire length of his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans as I slow down at the tip and take the whole head into my mouth, sucking lightly as I swirl my tongue over it. I wrap my hand around the base for stability, and I can feel him getting harder and harder as I continue.

Flattening my tongue along his cock, I press it into the underside as I reach the top again, causing him to moan again, louder this time. I repeat this three or four times, slowly pressing into him until I decide to focus just on the underside of the tip. That’s where every man loves being touched the most, and I intend to abuse this knowledge.

I curl my tongue to a point and slide it right beneath the tip, focusing as much attention as I can on such a small portion of his body that he becomes restless. “Fuck I think you’re could get me off if you kept doing that,” he says, just above a whisper.

“Oh, so that means I’m going to stop then?” I reply.

No response.

“Have I gotten you close already?” I continue, an impish grin crossing my face.

He doesn’t respond, which is enough for me to know that whatever I’m doing is absolutely killing him in the best way possible. I don’t want to stop. I want to see just how close to the edge I can get him before he explodes.

But first, I want something.

I sit up straight and grab one of the posts of the bed for stability as I slide my panties off from under my t-shirt dress. Crawling up closer to his face, I stop just short, holding myself just at chest level. “You’re going to eat my pussy, Slate,” I demand in my sweetest voice, just thinly masking the power trip I’m experiencing, telling a restrained man that he needs to get me off. “You don’t get off until I do, so I suggest you do your best.”

Climbing up closer to his face, I give him just enough of myself to kiss and taste, enough to drive him wild without the release. I try to compose myself as I feel his tongue trace along my slit, keeping myself from trembling as it flicks my clit.

I give just a little more of myself to him, enabling him to feel my whole pussy in his mouth as he plays with my flesh. Pregnancy has made me insatiably horny and having his tongue on me has me skipping steps through my usual arousal process. It’s so intense that I could orgasm within a minute if I allowed myself, but what fun would that be?

He moans as he licks and kisses my pussy, practically worshipping me as he does. Waves of pleasure and heat over come me, and it takes everything in me to just enjoy the sensations instead of throwing myself into the abyss of an orgasm. I want to feel everything until my body betrays me.

Slate can sense my restlessness, because he switches from light kisses and licking to sucking my clit directly, sending an electric shockwave up my spine and straight to my brain as it begs to send a deluge of oxytocin into my bloodstream. I fight still, because this is my place in this little battle between us; it’s my turn to hold off, to outlast him.

My legs are starting to shake now, and I attempt to lift myself up a bit to prevent myself from collapsing into his face from exhaustion and pleasure. Part of me is almost sad that his hands are tied down; I know they’d be all over my body right now if he were free.

Minutes feel like hours in the best of ways as I climb towards one false orgasm after another until I’m not able to hold back anymore. My vision greys and I grasp the posts of the bed for support as I come in Slate’s mouth. I can hardly hold back as I moan out loud, squeezing my thighs around his head as he continues to suck my clit through the orgasm.

At first, I can hardly remember my name, much less a detailed plan of agonizing teasing.

I’m insatiable now.

“You want to feel my pussy wrapped around you?” I ask him breathlessly, gasping for air like I’ve almost drowned.

“Yes, fucking yes, please,” he replies desperately.

I can hardly keep my composure as I move myself down, taking time to kiss his body just as I had at first. When my hips meet his, I’m careful to slide my pussy along the length of his cock to tease him with my warmth.

“You’re going to pay for it later if you keep teasing me like that,” he says, his voice turning from a desperate whisper into a low growl.

I can’t keep myself on edge much longer either. I angle my body downward, our chests touching as I slide him inside of me. At first I just grind on him, slowly easing myself up and down as our breaths quicken together. At this point I can hardly take it anymore, and I sit up straight, feeling him deep inside me to the point that it almost hurts.

But I don’t care.

I ride him faster, moving my hips in waves as I crawl closer and closer to coming again. Watching Slate’s face as he lies there helpless is almost too much for me to bear, and I grind him faster and faster until we’re both at the mercy of our instinct.

We come together, colliding like a universe being born.