Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Fuck, he was a lot of man. Chiseled, powerful, perceptive, and his attention remained resolutely fixed on her. She gathered the chain and rose to stand beside him. He’d said she needed control, but he’d initiated this, and he held the power to end it. The moment he said No she would stop.
There were a few things she could regulate, however, and she would use her mastery of dominance to help him find his boundaries. Her ratty, thigh-length t-shirt didn’t exactly exude an authoritative air, but she didn’t need a costume or mask. Not with him. “You want me to have control? I’m taking it. Now.” A stillness swept over her, measuring her breaths, loosening her shoulders. “I decide the how, the intensity, the purpose, all for my pleasure.”
The depressions outlining his shoulder blades twitched. His hands flattened on the mattress. “Yes, Mistress.”
The appellation was shockingly arousing, fluttering through her belly with nipping tingles. The title had never stirred a response in her. But now, it was given willingly, on his terms. For her and no one else.
At the center of the room, she connected the chain to the latch in the ceiling. “Stand here with your back to me.”
She didn’t wait for him to obey. She returned the flogger to the cabinet and gathered a pair of cuffs and three things he would’ve never chosen.
He stood where she’d directed, arms crossed above his head. The vertical indentation down the length of his back led erotically to the rise of his firm ass peeking above the towel. His torso, wide on top, narrowed to a slim waist, its appeal punctuated with two dimples where his back met his hips. The sight alone rolled the heat between her legs into a pulsating clench.
She wanted to just stand there, relish the burgeoning rise of desire, and stare at him. So she did, taking in the carved angles of his body. The backs of his ears twitched, probably from a flexing jaw. Oh, she knew he was squirming with impatience, but he remained where she’d told him with his back to her. Still and silent, awaiting her next order.
After another long, taunting moment, she crossed the distance and stood behind him. Not touching but close enough to let him feel the heat of her body. “Are you hard?”
“Yes, Mistress.” A rasp.
Her heart thumped. It didn’t matter how rare his innocence was, how fast he ran a football, or how respectable he behaved among his parishioners. It was the sexy, honest pain slut under it all that enthralled her now.
She placed the toys on the floor and strapped the cuffs on his wrists. Once his arms were restrained to the dangling chains, she grabbed the blindfold from the pile. “I’m going to open your eyes.” She tied it around his head and smiled, certain his imagination was running rampant. What kind of dirty thoughts were spinning through his mind?
A tremble skated down his back. She chased it with a fingertip, sliding through beads of sweat, memorizing each dip and peak of muscle. “You won’t come without permission.”
He tensed, relaxed. “Yes, Mistress.”
Feeling his skin creep beneath her touch and controlling him with just her voice and the pad of her finger was intoxicating. She ran her hands down his sides, caught the towel, and dropped it to the floor. Circling him, she trailed her fingers over his warm flesh, touching him everywhere. Everywhere except the very swollen erection jutting from between his legs. She caressed his thighs, the indentions in his hips and abs, savoring his shallow gasps.
She returned to the items on the floor and raised the rattan cane, the most advanced tool in her cabinet. It took her years to learn how to use it without splitting the skin and leaving a scar.
It whistled through the air as she swung it back.
Thwack.
The single strike of the cane’s rigid width formed two side-by-side welts on his ass with a narrow depression of skin in between. The nerve endings in that depression would be stinging like a son-of-a-bitch.
He drew gulps of air, his fingers curling around the chain above him. He was likely feeling a fire of pain spreading outward from the impact site, blazing through his legs and back.
She whacked him again, an inch above the first marks. He breathed, clutched the chain tighter. Three more thwacks. Ten red lines striped his ass. His head dropped forward, his body shivering.
Shit, did he not know he could end this at anytime? What was the protocol for consensual beatings? “Tell me No, and we’re done.” She rubbed her eyes, nauseous with guilt. She should’ve talked this out with him before they started.
He stood taller, raised his chin. “Don’t stop.” His voice was thick with arousal.
She walked around him to see his face. The blindfold hid his eyes, but his lips were parted, his jaw slack. Between his legs was the hardest, longest cock she’d ever seen. She squeezed her thighs together and returned to his backside.