Still, she didn’t release the whip.
“Your ass isn’t as red as it was,” he said. “That’s unfortunate.” He unfastened the gag’s strap then said, “Open your mouth.”
He pulled out the silicone ball. The mess from her saliva was humiliating, but before she could apologize or swallow completely, he wiped her mouth with a towel.
He dried the tears, as well.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Are you ready to continue?”
“Do me already. Sir.”
“Do you need an attitude adjustment, sub?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
He laughed. She was borderline insubordinate, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ll take that whip,” he said.
She released her grip when he tapped her wrist.
“We’ll start with a flogger.” He paused. “No comment?”
She thought about it. He knew she preferred something more severe. And he’d proven effective with the flogger. The rubber strop loomed like a promise and threat. He’d proven himself capable of exploiting a beating for her, physically and emotionally. She’d never experienced anything like it. “No, Sir. I trust you. Just get on with it.”
She was aware of his movements. It sounded as if he’d hung up the whip and then maybe taken something else down.
“I think your ass looks good when it’s red.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He trailed strands of the flogger across her back, down her butt and thighs, then across her calves and feet. Nerve endings seemed to ignite.
The first hit was unexpectedly harsh. She gasped. This wasn’t like any other flogger she’d ever felt. Yes. So right. It felt so, so, so, right.
“Horsehair,” he said. “It can be gentle, or if wielded differently, it can cause microcuts.”
She froze in her bondage.
“The cuts heal quickly,” he said. “In a matter of hours, you’d never know. Unless you were sitting.”
“Uhm…” She didn’t safe word, but for the first time in her life, she was tempted.
“You haven’t been that bad,” he said. “But it’s capable of giving you considerably more sensation than you’re accustomed to from a leather flogger.”
He’d told her before that she was perfect. But really, he was. He wanted to please her, and that made her all the more determined to please him.
“Talk to me. Because this is new, feel free to ask for what you want without having to use your safe word.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He warmed her up with several gentle hits. Like this, it was nothing more than sensuous, and she allowed herself to enjoy it, rather than succumbing to her normal impatience.
He trailed the flogger across her flanks before really hitting her again.
She coughed against the pain.
“Shall I continue?”
This was horrible; it was bliss. She wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything else. “Yes, please. Please flog me, Sir.”
He did, alternating between blistering bites and gentle caresses. He was seemingly able to hit her everywhere at once; the numerous strands of horsehair covered a large area. He flogged her shoulders, her back, her sides. He caught the fullness of her breasts, and he flicked his wrist in order to sear her nipples. He landed hits on her thighs, her butt, even her feet.
She screamed and cried. She remembered to mumble her thanks.
He continued ruthlessly.
She alternately tried to escape and wordlessly beg for more.
Even though her eyes were closed, she saw stars. Then things seemed to brighten. He found a rhythm that took away the past and the future. Nothing existed except his blows and the horrible pause between them.
More. More. More.
He increased the force, and she was lost.
Everything seemed to be in a spiral: her thoughts, the light. She wanted to stay there forever.
She was aware of her body jerking, responding to his lash. From somewhere and nowhere Master Nathaniel’s voice soothed and encouraged.
With his will, he’d gotten inside her mentally. She felt the blistering horsehair on her. He was an expert with it. The pain rocked her, but it pleasured her.
“Alani?”
Vaguely she was aware he’d stopped the beating.
“Alani. Tell me you’re with me.”
Her body felt electrified. Magnificent. And her pussy was dripping. “Yes. Yes… I… I’m not
there
yet, and…” She didn’t finish her sentence; she couldn’t. She hoped, prayed, that Master Nathaniel knew what she meant. She wasn’t exactly sure herself. It was as if she were on a precipice. She wanted to jump, but she needed a push. Her body pulsated with a lack of fulfillment.
“I’m going to finish you off with the rubber strop.”
“Something,” she whispered. “Anything.” Her clit throbbed. And she was still aware of the abuse her ass had taken from his thick cock. By ending the flogging, he’d made her into a ball of need and tension. “Let me come, Master.”
“Stick your ass up as high as you can. I want to make each stroke precise.”
She moved, and he helped position her slightly, moving her knees and tilting her pelvis. He stroked her clit with the stiff rubbery tip, and she almost came instantly.
“Three,” he told her, pulling away. “Take them for me.”
“Sir. I will.”
He laid the first stripe against her exposed pussy.
She screamed. “
Fuck me!
” She’d never experienced anything like that. The blaze of pain was mind-numbing.
“You meant to say thank you.”
She gasped and fought for breath. “Thank you, Sir.”
The second hit made her pussy swell with fury. She screamed again. Damn. She’d been afraid she’d never meet anyone capable of giving her this. Within seconds, the pain began to dissipate. And a glow of satisfaction remained. “Thank you,” she whispered, and she meant it. Not just for the beating but for knowing her.
She felt his tongue on her pussy. He soothed her with his mouth, and he made her hyperaware of her building orgasm. She prayed he wouldn’t ask her to delay it again; it might be the only thing that saved her.
“Last one, my brave girl. Can you take it?”
“I want it,” she said.
He gave it to her mercilessly.
Pain stripped her raw, and a red haze consumed her.
“Come.”
Master Nathaniel reached inside her vagina, found her G-spot, and simultaneously squeezed her abused clit. She came in a heated, convulsing gush.
“That’s my sub.”
He stroked her back and placed a kiss on her left shoulder.
As her pussy continued to tingle she realized how right he’d been. The orgasm had been worth the wait. She gulped, trying to swallow the lump of pain and joy lodged in her throat. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t catch her breath.
She was vaguely aware he was still talking to her. She couldn’t quite make out the words; she only knew they were her lifeline.
He unfastened her ankles and then her wrists.
“Move slowly,” he said. “Don’t try to stand, just stretch a little.”
When he removed the blindfold, she blinked against the light. He was crouched next to her, and he smoothed her hair behind her ears.
He ran the pad of his thumb across her eyebrows. “You really are a painslut.
My
painslut.”
The fierce possessiveness in his tone took her aback, yet she could think of nothing she wanted more than to be under his control.
He stood and then helped her off the bench.
She tried to take a step, but her knees wobbled. She locked them to try and stay upright. Her dom was there with an arm around her waist to support her.
“I’ve got you.”
“I’m supposed to crawl,” she said, suddenly remembering.
“Right now, you’re supposed to not fight me.”
“But—”
“Being a good sub means you follow my orders without question. Now do me a favor and be a good sub.”
Despite his gentle words, his tone brooked no compromise. She liked his discipline; she’d learned to hate his punishments.
Even if the rules changed constantly, she needed to learn not to protest.
He swept her up, into his arms and carried her to the master bedroom. He laid her on the bed. “Stay on your back,” he told her, “for just a minute.”
He returned with a cool damp cloth. She felt no embarrassment as he patted her cunt with the washcloth. He lifted her legs and cleaned her anus. After everything they’d done, even that was no longer embarrassing.
“Now you can turn over.”
She lay there while he used a different cloth to wipe off the slight sheen of perspiration. He dried her and then applied cream in gentle circular strokes. Until now she hadn’t wanted anything to do with aftercare. But now… Now, all she wanted to do was enjoy it.
He climbed into the bed with her and pulled her back against him. He maneuvered their positions so that his half-hard cock was between her ass cheeks. Thankfully he wasn’t pressing into her tender anus.
He held her a bit too tightly, but she didn’t complain. After a scene, she forced herself to regain her composure as quickly as possible. Life had taught her to rely only on herself, so she did, even if that meant encasing her emotions in a shell.
This time felt different, though.
Master Nathaniel’s carefully calculated beating had gotten past her defenses. He’d given her what she wanted, even though she knew he preferred submission to sadism. His scene had taken her to the very edge. She’d been able to let go, to be completely vulnerable and simultaneously safe.
He’d shattered her.
And now with his silence and snuggled into the circle of his arms, he was helping put her back together. It was strangely comforting—a new and unique experience for her.
He held her quietly for long moments. Like last night, she matched her breathing to his. The peace she felt astounded her. Until now, until him, she’d never wanted the comfort of a man’s arms.
She could have slept, but he didn’t let her.
“Alani?”
“Master Nathaniel?”
He stroked her hair.
She wanted to savor the sensation of having reached subspace, the incredible pain, the tremendous orgasm, but there was something sharp in his tone. His breathing had changed from relaxed to something shallower, as if he were on alert. “Sir?” she repeated, catching her breath.
“We need to talk.”
Again?
How could things go from perfect to reality so quickly?
Nathaniel turned her in his arms so that she was facing him. He wanted to be able to read her expression. Her head was pillowed in the crook of his arm, and her hand curled against his chest. “That phone call,” he said. “It was my boss.”
She frowned. “Master Marcus? But I thought you were partners.”
“We are. Marcus, AJ, and I are equal owners. It was a call from my other job.”
“I see.” Her eyes were open wide, and her mouth was slightly parted. As he watched, the frown became a scowl.
She pretended to be tough, but she wasn’t. She knew the call changed something. He saw she wasn’t ready for that; neither was he.
What had happened between them was beyond anything he’d ever known. He saw she’d gotten lost in subspace. Despite the pain, in fact,
from
the pain, she’d slipped deep inside her own head. After the first few brutal hits, she’d barely responded to his flogging, except to sigh with pleasure and murmur her gratitude.
Her body had been completely relaxed as a result of the endorphins flooding her system. He’d noticed her pussy get more and more wet. The scent of her arousal had made him hard, despite the fact he’d reamed her ass only minutes earlier.
She likely didn’t remember, but during the scene, she’d called him Master.
To Alani, that title wasn’t given lightly.
At the club, she’d told him that any man, including a dom, must earn her respect.
Anytime he scened, he instructed the sub to call him Sir instead of Master. He didn’t want any confusion. To him, a Master had more power, a greater obligation to the sub’s well-being. It meant a dependency he hadn’t agreed to, a relationship, rather than a scene. Until now, he hadn’t wanted the responsibility.
But from Alani, the honorific was a gift he cherished.
She might not remember saying it; he’d never forget she had.
“I’ll be going back to the Middle East sooner than planned.”
Slowly, carefully, she asked, “How soon?”
With her soft, compact body pressed against him, his cock hardened. Generally he wasn’t this responsive. Great sex could keep him satisfied for a day, maybe more. But with her, a hard-on was nearly constant. “Within the week.”
“I see.”
Her tone was measured, calculated not to reveal emotion. But her unblinking eyes told a different story.
“I will stay until Master Marcus returns from Mexico.” He held her tighter. “I’m not going to let you run, Alani.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any purpose in prolonging our interlude.”
“Alani, stop. You’ve always known I was leaving.”
“Of course,” she said quickly, too quickly. “This changes nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
She blinked.
“Bull
shit
,” he repeated. “I was there. I saw what happened to you. And I sure as hell know what happened to me. That kind of scene means something, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you pretend it doesn’t.”
“It was hot,” she said breezily. “And I can get hot anywhere, from any dom at the club.”
He refused to be goaded. “Bullshit again. The entire issue you had at the club, the reason you got written up, was because you can’t get the physical pain to transcend the emotional crap you carry around.”
“I’ve told you not to fucking psychoanalyze me, Sir.”
Good thing she’d added the Sir. Good thing he knew she was reeling and not just being a bitch. “Your little act—”
“It’s not an act; I honestly don’t give a rip—”
“Your act,” he reasserted, “might fly with most men and a lot of doms. But I’m not any dom.”
She struggled to get away. He held her tighter. At no time was her power and strength a match for his. “Yield, sub.”
“Not on your life, Sir.”
He reacted.
He flipped her under him and trapped her wrists above her head. He pinned her slight body with his, and his erection pressed into her.