Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
There are couples playing here, and he takes me to watch a few, instructing me how to properly and politely watch. “You never interfere in a scene,” he says. “Watch politely and learn when you can, but don’t interrupt or ask questions. Privacy and respect are of the utmost importance here. Understood?”
I nod. “Yes,” I say, which earns me a frown and a reminder smack to the ass. I blink. “Yes, daddy,” I amend. His smile warms me through and through.
I’ve asked for this. He’s reading what I’ve been sending him now, and knows I want to experience the pain and pleasure firsthand.
“Your turn, Giada,” he says, pointing to a vacant spanking bench near an array of implements on the wall. I’m shaking as I nod. The tools he has at his disposal range from sexy to intimidating.
“Don’t use the whip,” I manage to choke out as he positions me over the bench. I’m belly down as he stretches me out and secures me.
“Excuse me?”
“No whip.”
He leans in and speaks into my ear. “You had a chance to discuss hard limits. You chose a safeword. Now is the time you trust me. I don’t allow anyone I’m topping to command the way a scene goes once we’re in here.” He gives my ass a punishing smack.
Shit. What did I get into?
A sharp tug of my hair makes me yelp. “Yes, daddy,” I say. Damn, he’s right. If I don’t like something, I safeword. It isn’t the time or place to be telling him what to do. He reaches for something on the wall and returns to me with a wicked gleam in his eye. My fear begins to dissipate, leaving in its wake gleeful anticipation. I close my eyes to let myself sink into the scene. One warm, firm hand presses against my lower back, and without another word, he begins.
The whistle of a strap warns me a split second before my ass explodes in hot pain, and just as the pain fades to warmth, another smack follows another. I focus on breathing, taking this, needing to feel his strength and dominance. He straps me again and again, pausing between strokes, and after a good dozen or so he’s murmuring to me, telling me I’m a good girl and I’m handling things well. I’m floating, soaring, the dance of pleasure-pain rocking my world. One spanking leads to another, until I’m boneless on the bench. He unfastens the cuffs, lifts me in his arms, and speaks soft, soothing things in my ear I can’t quite decipher. My head falls to his chest, when suddenly his demeanor changes and he barks out a command over my shoulder.
I’m too deep into this to really be concerned, so I let my head fall back to his shoulder.
“I’m taking you to a private room,” he says, carrying me to a room with a sturdy, rust-colored door. I love that I’m in his arms, like I mean something to him. Like it’s just the two of us in this whole damn club. I could lay like this, burrowed against his strong, sturdy chest, forever. He smells so good, masculine and classy like he wears the faintest touch of expensive cologne. The boys I’ve dated never felt like this, never smelled like this, and hell, no one’s ever touched me the way he does.
My heart twists in my chest. What we have is special. And I don’t want it to end.
Lifting me up onto his shoulder as if I weigh nothing at all, he unlocks the door and pushes it in. It’s warm and cozy in here, outfitted for an extended stay. There’s a large, four-poster bed, an immaculate bathroom in white and silver beyond the bed, a sturdy bedside table, and a few other things that pique my interest. I recognize the leather-covered spanking bench, sturdy chair, and post with hooks from my research.
“What is this, place, daddy?” I ask.
“Verge has private rooms for long-term members,” he says.
“Oh. Did you rent this one?”
I’m curious. Has he planned this?
“Well, not exactly,” he says. “This is mine. It’s been untouched for a very long time.” I don’t miss the note of sadness in his voice.
Did he have a submissive once?
Have they been in this room?
I can’t decide if I need to know or not.
He lays me on the bed, then joins me, holding me up to his chest.
“Such a good girl,” he says. “That’s such a good baby girl.”
“Mmm,” I murmur. “Thank you, daddy.” I trail a finger along his collar bone. Still fully dressed, I want to see more. But my concerns must show, because he takes my fingers in his large, warm hand, and kisses them, then asks in a serious voice, “What’s on your mind, little girl? You look troubled. A few minutes ago you were giving yourself over to this, but now you’re pulling back.”