He’d fucking made it. With his own hands, sweat, balls, gut and brains.

He’d made it and he’d earned it and there he was…

Living it.

His perfect world.

* * * * *

The Next Day

He didn’t gag her. He wouldn’t ever gag her. He liked the noises she made too much.

But he did blindfold her.

And he strung her up.

She took it all, his Livvie. Even if he’d intended to break her in slowly, she writhed against the leather straps around her wrists hung from the hook on the wall, her naked body arching, seeking, inviting, the noises she made telling him where she was.

That being that she wanted more.

And more.

And more.

He gave it to her, his cock pulsing with each fall of the crop, his balls tightening with each red welt that rose against the beautiful skin of her ass and thighs.

She even rode the handle of the crop like he ordered.

His princess at his command.

He watched her work the crop in and out of her wet cunt, her teeth sunk into her lower lip, her tits bouncing, the nipples he’d worked first, taking his time doing it, hard and straining.

So fucking pretty.

She gave him that, he gave her what she’d needed and never been able to have, he’d give it to her again.

Now, enough was enough.

So he pulled the crop out of her, tossed it aside, wrapped an arm around her belly, cupping her pubis with his other hand to tip her back for him, and he drove his cock home.

Her held fell back against his shoulder, her lips whimpering, “Nicky,” she came for him the instant he filled her.

He fucked her strung up, holding her tight to take it, after she came down going after her clit to make her come for him again.

She did.

Then he did.

He didn’t move, stayed buried, his arms wrapped around her as she hung for him, filled with him, her head still back, turned, her forehead in the side of his neck.

“You good?” he murmured.

“Yes, Nicky,” she murmured back.

“Good they had a decent hook at the hardware store,” he teased.

He felt her smile against his skin but she only replied, “Mmm.”

He slid a hand up to her breast and cupped it.

“Who do you belong to, Livvie?” he asked.

“You, Nicky,” she whispered, pressing her forehead in harder.

“Who do you love?” he asked.

More of her whisper, “You, sweetheart.”

“Whose heart do you own?”

She shifted her head back and he tipped his chin down, lifting his hand from her breast to pull the blindfold away so he could catch her eyes.

Her beautiful voice wrapped sweet around the word, “Yours.”

That was when he kissed her, slow and wet.

He’d barely broken their kiss, his lips still to hers, when she murmured, “You forgot my plug, master.”