A massage

Despite the fear that she felt, Amber couldn't deny the effect his touch was having on her. It was like a drug, flooding her body with sensations she'd never felt before. She could feel her chest growing warm and tight, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. But she knew that she couldn't give in, she had to keep her wits about her and not let him have her, not until she was ready.

She tried to protest, but her voice shook and trembled, the words coming out in a pitiful whisper. "Please... I don't want this," she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at him. "Please don't do this, please let me go." She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was firm and unyielding.

He looked down at her, relishing the way her eyes filled with tears. He watched the tears slowly fall down her cheeks, her eyes wide and pleading. He could feel the way she trembled against him, the fear and helplessness in her body making him feel powerful and in control. He loosened his grip on her hips, giving her a small reprieve, but still not letting her go completely.

He looked at her for a moment, his expression hard to read. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way she was trying to hold back her tears, but he also saw something else there, something that he couldn't quite name. It was a mixture of helplessness and defiance, fear and determination, and it made him want her even more.

Amber could feel his eyes on her, watching her every movement, her every reaction. She could feel the heat of his breath against her skin, could smell the musky scent of his cologne. She felt completely helpless, trapped in his grip, and she didn't know what to do. She tried to hold back her tears, to keep some semblance of control over herself, but it was useless. She was terrified, and she knew that there was nowhere to escape.

She managed to gasp out a choked "thank you," her words coming out in a sob as she tried to control her emotions. Her voice trembled and shook as she spoke, the fear and helplessness in her voice evident. A part of her was thankful that he had finally let go of her hips, but another part of her was even more terrified, knowing that she was completely at his mercy.

He chuckled at her soft thanks, amused by the way she was still trying to maintain some level of dignity in her voice. He leaned closer, his mouth near her ear, and spoke in a deep, dark tone that sent chills down her spine.

"Don't thank me just yet, pet. We're just getting started."

He pulled back, his voice still low and dark as he spoke. "I won't have you tonight... but you have to do something in return for my kindness." He ran his fingers through her hair, his touch soft and almost gentle. He knew he had her completely at his mercy, and he loved the feeling of having this power over her.

Her voice was still shaky and trembling, but she answered him with a simple "yes." He could sense the fear and helplessness in her tone, and he reveled in it. He wanted to see how far he could push her, how far she would go to please him.

He looked at her with a smug smile as he issued his command. "Give me a massage," he demanded, his voice low and authoritative. She looked at him in shock, her eyes widening at his request.

She couldn't believe what he was asking her to do. A massage? It was such a mundane, yet intimate request, especially given the circumstances. But she had no choice. She couldn't refuse him, and she knew it. She swallowed hard and nodded her head, swallowing her pride and submitting to his will.

She slid off his lap, her body feeling stiff and sore from being held in the same position for so long. She stood before him, her eyes downcast, trying to keep her emotions under control. She felt vulnerable and exposed, knowing that he would be watching her every move.

He removed his shirt, baring his muscular chest to her. She caught a glimpse of his sculpted torso out of the corner of her eye and turned her head away, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. He chuckled at her reaction, enjoying the effect he was having on her.

He laid down on his front, revealing his tattooed back to her. The ink spread across his broad shoulders and down his back, the intricate designs a stark contrast against his bronzed skin. She could see the muscles in his back ripple as he settled into position, his body taut and strong even at rest.

He spoke without looking at her, his voice low and commanding. "Massage my back," he commanded, gesturing to his prone form. She swallowed hard and nodded, her hands shaking as she tentatively reached out to touch his skin. She began to rub his back, her fingers working the muscles, trying to find a rhythm and a pressure that would please him.

He gave her another order, his voice low and authoritative. "Sit on my back," he commanded. She understood what he meant and quickly removed her heels, lifting her dress a few inches higher. As she gingerly perched herself on his back, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, the muscles in his back tight and taut under her weight.

She tried to find a comfortable position, shifting her weight slightly as she settled onto his back. She could feel his muscles flexing under her thighs as he adjusted his body to support her weight. It was an intimate and vulnerable position to be in, her body pressed against his, her legs straddling him.

She started to massage his back again, her hands working their way over his broad shoulders and down his spine. The muscles were tight and strained, no doubt from the stress of long days and the burdens he carried. She tried to focus on her task, her hands moving in a steady rhythm, her mind struggling to ignore the feel of his skin under her touch.