Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Damon shrugged. “It’s possible that’s all she can handle.”
The woman placed a hand on Damon’s arm, her long, manicured fingernails grazing his skin as she stared up at him. She had full, pouty lips painted blood red, her dark eyes heavily outlined in kohl. She looked nothing like Ellen, which was a good thing.
“I can handle more,” she drawled, looking up at him through her lashes. “A lot more. I’m next in line and I’m in need of a partner. I like it rough. No flogger—I crave the cane or a single tail, the more welts the better.” She dug her sharp nails into his arm. “Think you’re up to the job?”
He lifted her hand from his arm and offered her a lazy smile. “I imagine so. What’s your name?”
“My name’s Saskia, but you can call me Pain Slut,” she said with an answering grin. She let her gaze travel slowly from his face to his body and back again. “I’ll just call you Master Tall, Dark and Handsome.”
Damon laughed in spite of himself. “Whatever.”
The timer dinged. Once the trio had decamped and the dungeon monitor had cleaned the wheel, Saskia slipped unselfconsciously out of her blouse and skirt. Wearing nothing but an almost nonexistent thong, she climbed onto the wheel, facing away from him so her small, muscular ass was on display.
In spite of his promise to himself to keep Ellen firmly out of his thoughts, he couldn’t help but compare Ellen’s luscious curves with this too-thin, hard-bodied woman.
Determined to enjoy the scene, he secured the woman’s legs, arms and waist in place with the provided leather straps. She had turned her head to the side. Moving so she could see him, he asked, “You good?”
“I will be, once you get out your cane,” she said with a snort.
Damon’s treacherous brain instantly flashed back to Ellen tethered to the St. Andrew’s cross, her ass and thighs welted from his cane, tears falling down her flushed cheeks as she breathlessly, sweetly begged for another, and another.
She had refused to use her safeword even when it was clear she’d had enough. What if she ended up with some asshole who didn’t understand or respect her stance on the subject?
Stop it, he ordered himself. Ellen’s a big girl. She can handle herself just fine.
Turning his attention back to Saskia, he asked, “What’s your safeword?”
“Limp dick.” She flashed a grin. “Nothing puts a damper on a scene faster than those two little words. But don’t worry. I sincerely doubt I’ll need to use it.”
“Duly noted,” Damon said dryly. “How about we make things a little more interesting?” He gave the wheel a slow turn.
“Oooh,” she moaned as he rotated her until she was upside down. “Wild. Now, show me what you’ve got.” She flashed another grin. “Please.”
Pulling his cane from his gear bag, Damon tapped it lightly over her ass to warm the skin.
“Don’t bother with the warmup,” she snapped. “Just give me what I need.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle. Submissive, this woman was not.
Bringing back his arm, he flicked his wrist, whipping the side of the cane against her flesh.
“Fuck, yeah,” she cried as a white line appeared, quickly darkening to red.
He struck her again, a few inches below the first mark.
“More,” she cried. “Hurt me, baby. Make me squeal.”
In spite of his promise to himself not to think about Ellen, Damon couldn’t help but compare her to this bossy, demanding pain slut. He could almost hear Ellen’s breathless cries and her sexy, tremulous sighs. He could almost see her sweet blush. His lips tingled with the need to close over her perfect gumdrop nipples, soothing away the pain he’d inflicted a moment before. He could almost smell the delicate, sensual scent of her hot, wet cunt.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. He’d come to the club to forget, to lose himself. Here was a nearly naked, willing woman, eager for what he had the power to give her. He’d agreed to the scene, and he had an obligation to stay in the moment.
He rotated the wheel so she was upright. Then he flicked his wrist again, the cane whistling as it made impact. Saskia hissed her pain and then begged throatily for more.
Forcing the unwelcome images of his erstwhile slave girl from his mind, Damon obliged, caning the woman’s ass and the backs of her thighs until her skin was mottled with dark red welts.
He settled into a rhythm, his mind finally going blissfully blank as he focused entirely on what he was doing. When the timer dinged, it took him a moment to recall where he was. Dropping the cane onto his nearby gear bag, he moved closer to his scene partner. Stroking her sweat-dampened hair from her face, he said, “You took quite a caning, Saskia. I have to say, I’m impressed. Let me get you down and give you some aftercare. I have salve in my bag.”