Prisoner of Love

It took a while before she gritted out her response.

"You fucker."

It took longer for my laugh to fade, and longer still before our romp winded down.

Sitting, collapsed on the cold tiles, soaked, mostly by sweat, my gaze turns to the black egg she placed beside the chair she had me tied to half an hour earlier.

" So, what's that?"

"That's how pleasure is going to grant me victory next time" is her response as she undoes the shackles keeping my legs bound.

"So, you admit I won this one?"

With a glance at my still hard erection, she can't help but laugh during her response: "You can call it a draw, or a sweeping victory for me. I'm sure you'll realize you haven't won once you'll try to sleep with that thing keeping you awake."

She was right. Getting to sleep that night wasn't easy.

But wrapping her in my arms, my erection nestled between her cheeks, and whispering "I love you more" in her ear as she dreamt. Life could be a lot worse.