Our penthouse perched high in Montmartre, windows framing the Sacré-Cœur’s glow. Velvet curtains parted to Paris’s twinkling sprawl. Nearly a year in, Daniel and I fused as one. Chaotic start faded; now, every night sealed our bond. I prepped the canopy bed: silk scarves draped like whispers, candles flickering gold on marble nightstands, lube glistening beside crystal flutes of untouched champagne—crisp, forbidden bubbles waiting. Heart raced. He returned from his photo shoot, camera slung low. Door clicked. I pounced. Lips crashed. His breath hitched, tasting of espresso and city air.
“Now?” he rasped, hands gripping my waist.
The Privilege
“Now,” I purred, dragging him to our sanctuary. The bed’s carved posts loomed, promising captivity. He commanded: “Strip. Slow.” Fingers fumbled buttons, teasing fabric over skin. I swayed, ass brushing his hardening bulge through wool trousers. His chartreuse eyes stripped me bare. Naked, cock throbbing, I trembled. He pressed my shoulders down. Silk scarf—cool, luxurious—filled my mouth. Jaw ached sweetly against its weave. “No teeth. Or punishment,” he growled, stroking my hair. Eternity in his grip. Then, wrists bound overhead to iron bars, skin chafing velvet-soft. His palms massaged my neck, pulse hammering under full lips. Goosebumps rippled. I craved bites; he gifted kisses, trailing fire down my spine.
He stripped fast. Muscles gleamed in candlelight, cock springing free—thick, veined perfection. Straddling me, knees pinning hips, he nuzzled my chest. Tongue flicked nipples, sucking pink peaks like ripe fruit. Downward: navel, treasure trail. Nose dragged my shaft base to tip. Gulp. Gland vanished into wet heat. Groan muffled, eyes squeezed shut. Balls tightened. He deep-throated, gagging slightly, relentless. Fingers—slick, probing—invaded my hole. One, then two, scissoring. Balls sucked next; I arched, his weakness-spot conquered. Wet squelches filled the air, city lights blurring beyond glass walls.
The Excess
The city elite slumbered below, oblivious to our rite. Champagne chilled nearby, beads of condensation mirroring my sweat. He teased: “Want free already?” I nodded frantically. “Not yet.” Face hovered, breath hot. Kissed eyelids, whispered filth. “Good boy. Mine to ravage.”
Knees hoisted my shoulders, his cock nudged my entrance. Bare now—tests clean, fidelity sworn. First raw breach: tears welled. Filled. Owned. He groaned, “So tight.” Thrust. Deep. I clenched spitefully; he smirked. “Naughty.” Pace brutalized—hips slamming, headboard thumping. Sweat-slick, I neared edge. He halted. Malice gleamed. “Leave you begging? Jerk off over you, paint your skin? Watch, untouched.” Whimper escaped gag; tear tracked cheek. Sigh. Mercy. Tender now, eyes locked, gag yanked for tongue invasion—champagne-sweet, musky. Fist pumped my cock frantic.
“Fuck me hard,” I gasped. He obliged. Pounds shattered me. Climax ripped—ropes of cum splattering us, cock pulsing agony-ecstasy. His seed flooded hot, deep. He shuddered, spent. Untied me gentle, lips on raw wrists. I clung, nails digging his back. “I’m here. Yours,” he soothed. Dawn found me anchored to him, penthouse hush guarding our secret. Glass walls sealed the privilege: elite surrender, raw and redeemed.
