“May I call you by that title?” Amelia said breathily. “I’m under your command too.”

Byron closed her eyes and groaned. This woman couldn’t be any more perfect for her. She was everything. “Yes, you may.” Byron was done waiting. She needed to come now, or she was going to have to take blood.

She pushed her strap-on fully inside Amelia and got a ripple of pleasure at the noises her lover was making.

“Ask me nicely, Miss Honey.”

“Fuck me, Principe.”

Restraint was over. Byron thrust into Amelia in long strokes, enjoying every little sound she made and the rush of blood inside her that only Byron could hear.

“Oh, Principe…” Amelia tested her bonds, as she always enjoyed to do, and reminded herself that she was under control. It was such a turn -n, and even more so in this position. She felt so bad, so naughty. Byron had caught her by surprise with the depths of her passion at the start, but as always when Byron touched her, she was soon ready to beg for whatever Byron wanted to give her. She’d taken a chance and called her Principe to test her reaction. She seemed taken aback at first, but then it appeared to arouse her.

Byron’s thrusts were getting faster, and her sex was nearly ready to explode. She loved Byron’s strap-on inside her. It was part of who Byron was, and gave Amelia such satisfaction to nurture that, to be what Byron needed, and to give her the pleasure she craved.

This dynamic that they shared was what she secretly longed for. Amelia had always known she wasn’t straight, but she couldn’t quite sort her sexuality out in her head. That was until she moved to London and a friend took her out to a gay bar. There she saw a butch swagger towards her, and the scales fell from her eyes. This was the kind of woman she longed for, but no other butch could have prepared her for Byron Debrek.

Byron’s cock thrust fast and hard inside her, and her orgasm was seconds from exploding. “Principe, I’m going to come!”

Byron leaned over her, holding the back of her neck, and said in a desperate, breathy voice, “Come now—with me.”

Even though she had permission, she tried to hold on a few more seconds so she could hear Byron gasp and shout out her release. Then something different happened. Byron called out, “Fuck, fuck, your blood. Can’t stop.” She ripped the top of Amelia’s dress and nipped the same place on her neck as she had before. The shock of the little nip set off Amelia’s own orgasm, the waves of hot pleasure rippled right down to the tips of her toes.

“Byron,” she groaned.

As soon as the last of Amelia’s orgasm had left her with a feeling of love and warmth throughout her body, she became aware of Byron rambling, as if speaking to herself.

“It’s okay, It’s okay. I didn’t—I stopped, I stopped.” Byron gasped.