Salvation Read Online Jane Henry (NYC Doms #4)

Categories Genre: Angst, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: NYC Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
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Shit. Ok well I trust him, so… “Green.”

He nods slowly. “Violet wand? Electric stimulation,” he explains.

Oh. Wow. Okay. “Green.”

“Wax play.”

Fuck yes. “Green. So much green.”

He releases a low, dark chuckle. “Rope play? Bondage?”

I lick my lips. “Green.” My panties are soaked. My thighs rub together, and I want to feel his pressure there. Something. Anything.

“Knife play.”

I swallow and shiver and think before I reply. “Green.”

Leaning down, he draws his thumb down the side of my cheek and cups my chin in his warm hand. “You’re doing very well, Chandra. You’re holding position and answering me promptly. Good girl. You’ll be rewarded for that.” My heart sings. He holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger, my gaze locked on his. “But from now on, you remember to say sir after any response.”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

Oh, God, it feels good to call him sir, and I don’t understand why. But my vision blurs with unshed tears and I want to feel his gentle hand once more.

He walks away from me and retrieves a long, thin black implement from a nearby shelf. There’s a small square of leather at the end. A riding crop. Tamer on the spectrum of BDSM toys, but capable of packing a good, solid sting.

He flicks it against his hands as if testing it, then walks behind me. He doesn’t move at first. “Keep position, Chandra,” he says. “Rate it,” he instructs. “Scale of one to ten, tell me how much this hurts.” I nod, then immediately feel the sharp sting of the crop to the upper part of my ass, just where my heels hit my bottom. I flinch, but the sting quickly fades to warmth, sending a tingling sensation between my thighs.

“Three?” I ask.

He gives me a harder whack with the crop. “Seven!” I pant.

“Only seven?” he says, which surprises me, right before the third smack falls, the most painful one of all, a flare of pain that takes my breath away.

“Eight,” I croak out. It isn’t a ten. I know there are things here that will be far beyond that ten.

“Chandra,” he chides, warning in his voice. “What did I tell you comes after every response?”

“Sir,” I say. My body is molten, my ass stinging, and my feet are beginning to fall asleep.

“Good,” he says.

“Sir?”

“Yes, baby,” he says, running a hand along the back of my head.

“My feet are beginning to fall asleep.”

“Up you go, then. We’ll continue this over the spanking bench.”

Oh my God. I’ve been dying to try one of those ever since I saw them the night before.

Taking my hand, he lifts me to my feet and walks me over to a spanking bench in the shadows. It’s padded where my belly lies, and there are cuffs at my wrists and ankles.

“I’d prefer to have you in a submissive position when we go through our limits,” he says. “It’ll get you more readily into the proper headspace.”

“No argument from me,” I say. I mean, I’m practically leaping out of my skin with excitement. It shocks me when the crop whistles through the air then lands on the fullest part of my ass in a punishing swat.

“Correct response.”

“Yes, sir,” I amend. “This will take a while for me to remember.”

“It won’t,” he says. “Because if you forget again, I’m giving you a proper spanking.”

Ahhhh, my head says, incapable of thinking much beyond that because he’s already positioning me over this bench.

“Sir?” I ask. “May I ask you questions?”

“For now, you may,” he says.

“Well, who invented this thing? I mean a lot of things have more than one purpose, right? Cuffs are for prisoners. Crops are for horses, too, and things like… stocks, or a whipping post, or even an exam table has another purpose. But a spanking bench? I mean, it’s like a fork. There’s only one purpose.”

He’s fastening the leather cuffs around my wrists, first the left, then the right, then my ankles are bound below me. I push and pull against the restraints because I need to feel them. I’m not sure why, but I like not being able to move freely with him standing over me.

“That I don’t know,” he says. “But I know it’s one of the oldest tools we have and was likely borne of a good need.

“It’s a little crazy,” I whisper.

“You’re a little crazy,” he counters.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

I shiver when I feel his touch start at my shoulders then work all the way down my back, to my backside, then to the tops of my thighs. He’s holding the crop over me to make sure I respond correctly.

“Breath play,” he asks.

I know what that is, and it scares me, but I’m not going to back down. “Green, sir,” I tell him.

He leans down and whispers in my ear. “Chandra, you don’t have to try everything. It’s okay if you want to say red.”


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