Sarani walked through the door, stress and fatigue showing in every line of her body. She gave me a weary smile as she set down her briefcase and purse, and one step brought her into my arms. I held her tightly, and she clung to me. With a sigh, she said, "Coming home to you makes everything bearable, Robert," as she sank into the embrace. My hand stroked up her back, feeling the knots of tension under her suit jacket and blouse melt under my touch. I knew exactly what my bride needed. My hand came up her back, to the back of her neck under her silky chestnut curls, and around to the front, where I snapped the leash I'd palmed to the special ring on her day collar.
It took Sarani a moment to come out of her stupor and realize what I'd done, and when realization hit, anger flared in her eyes, lighting the amber orbs from within. "Come," I demanded.
"What? Wait! Seriously? Can't I even get my shoes off?" I looked down at the shoes in question, black with four-inch heels and a strap that wrapped around her ankle. Gods, just looking at those shoes turned me on, even more than I already was! They were the sexiest pair she owned, in my opinion.
Leveling a look and cocking my eyebrow at her, I simply said, "No," and proceeded to lead my reluctant slave down the hallway to our room.
Once inside, I yanked her to me by the leash for a hard, brief kiss, then pushed her backwards onto the bed. Sarani was fairly vibrating with anger at being manhandled after the long day she'd had, and she pushed herself up and started off the bed. Leaning over her, I grabbed one of her arms, manacling her wrist with the leather cuff chained to the headboard. She was a hellcat, scratching, clawing, biting, and trying to unbuckle the cuff to get free, her hips bucking to knock me off and trying to get leverage to do some damage with her heels. Lying across her, I grabbed her other wrist and bound that to the other post of the bed. Her flushed skin and snapping eyes, both so reminiscent of how she looks at the peak of her pleasure, excited me further, and there was no way she couldn't know about the raging hard-on behind my fly.
"You. Fucking. ASSHOLE!" Sarani hissed in a low, lethal tone. Oh shit. She'd gone beyond rage into venomous, and it was a good thing for my sake she was restrained. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Untie me right this mother fucking minute, or you will pay dearly, and you can't afford what I'll demand." This last she said with a very pointed look at my package. Fuck, was she pissed.
Her suit jacket hung open, and I could see the flush against the plunging vee of her blouse. So prim and proper she looked, except for the leather cuffs around her wrists and the fact her skirt had hiked up to her hips. Calmly, forcing myself to be slow and methodical, I unbuttoned her blouse, taking my time, knowing I'd be throwing her off by not responding with the same ferocity she was feeling. I opened her shirt, letting my hands rest over her full breasts, pinching her nipples through the virginal white lace covering them. Her chest continued to heave with her anger, and Sarani continued to hurtle expletives at me, damning me to hell and calling into question the legitimacy of my birth. "Tsk tsk," I chided when she paused to catch her breath and regroup. "Do you talk this way to your employees, too? It would serve you well to be silent, my dear."
Still she spewed her furious tirade. Reaching between her legs, I ripped the fragile lace panties off her hips, the sound of fabric rending cutting through her curses. She opened her mouth to take a breath, and I quickly shoved the panties in her mouth, muffling her noises. The scent of her arousal tickled my nose; as angry as Sarani was, I knew that she was excited, too. A fissure of fear had darted into her eyes when I gagged her; never had I done that before, and I almost took the panties back out. But, no.
