Durand.
After tonight, no more. He was too damn dangerous. But, as long as she was here, strung up and under his masterful lash, she could enjoy what he was dishing out, couldn’t she? For tonight, just this one time. So she took more. Savoring the bite as the twelve-inch twin tails descended again, and again.
As he halted briefly, checking in, running a broad hand over her abraded skin, then humming a sound of approval before stepping back, she took stock as she waited, trembling in anticipation of the next stroke.
Around her, everything was muted, but she was still aware. She could hear the low moans and harsh cries of the other submissives receiving both pleasure and pain, the crack of whips and paddles, and the metallic ring of rattling chains. Her other senses were still functional. When she inhaled, the pervasive scents of leather and raw sex were easily identifiable, and when her lashes fluttered open, the spanking bench next to her was crystal clear as was the bright red ass of the male sub who was getting lick upon lick from his mistress’ heavy hand.
Like the other subs, she was highly aroused, more so than she’d ever allowed during a scene at the club, and under Arturo’s expert hand so very close to flying, but not quite. If she were in that dreamlike euphoric state, she wouldn’t have appreciated the jarring discord of Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’ that blended well with the ambient BDSM noises around her. Yet as the quirt fell again, along the lowest curves of her ass, she knew the endorphins were rushing through her body. Her limbs were beginning to feel floaty and although she knew from the sound of the blows that Arturo hadn’t let up, not the least little bit, the blows were beginning to merge into a tingling, buzzing, warmth. It was also travelling inward, converging on the hypersensitive recesses between her legs. It wouldn’t take much for her to give into it and soar, fly high into sub space, but she didn’t dare let herself go over the edge.
Another sharp lash of the quirt pushed her near, but she held on, curling her nails into her palms to check herself. She should end it before it was too late, before he achieved the severity that she needed to send her over the top. But it felt good, really good, and she’d missed this so much. So, she let it continue.
However, in an attempt to reduce the impending euphoria and quell the endorphin rush, she turned her thoughts to mundane things, the sale at her shop that weekend, the dry cleaning that was due to be picked up, the long drive home sitting on leather seats while her ass cheeks were on fire.
A particularly stinging stroke landed across her upper thighs and redirected her back to the scene. She hissed on an indrawn breath at the blaze of pain it had ignited and the exquisite pleasure.
“I’m glad to have your attention, ma petite. Am I boring you?”
She shook her head, catching her lower lip between her teeth to keep from crying out. Not from the pain of it, although it was there, but in her alternately wired mind, what she steeled herself against was crying out and begging him for more. More of what she hungered for, had craved to the point of desperation, and had been missing from her life for so long.
The quirt landed once again in the same spot, pushing her closer to the edge where euphoria waited, glistening on the horizon like a beacon, leading her to the place where she was beyond pain, if that even made sense. Not only physical, but also where emotional and spiritual pain existed no longer. It was a state of sublime being, an incredible ecstasy as strongly compelling as the most addictive drug.
“Again, I find I am repeating myself.” This was spoken low in her ear as he leaned into her back. Her head was drawn back the next second as his fist wound into her hair. She found herself looking up into hypnotic green eyes. A dark brow quirked as he waited. “I asked a question, Mari.”
While nearly tongue tied by the
After tonight, no more. He was too damn dangerous. But, as long as she was here, strung up and under his masterful lash, she could enjoy what he was dishing out, couldn’t she? For tonight, just this one time. So she took more. Savoring the bite as the twelve-inch twin tails descended again, and again.
As he halted briefly, checking in, running a broad hand over her abraded skin, then humming a sound of approval before stepping back, she took stock as she waited, trembling in anticipation of the next stroke.
Around her, everything was muted, but she was still aware. She could hear the low moans and harsh cries of the other submissives receiving both pleasure and pain, the crack of whips and paddles, and the metallic ring of rattling chains. Her other senses were still functional. When she inhaled, the pervasive scents of leather and raw sex were easily identifiable, and when her lashes fluttered open, the spanking bench next to her was crystal clear as was the bright red ass of the male sub who was getting lick upon lick from his mistress’ heavy hand.
Like the other subs, she was highly aroused, more so than she’d ever allowed during a scene at the club, and under Arturo’s expert hand so very close to flying, but not quite. If she were in that dreamlike euphoric state, she wouldn’t have appreciated the jarring discord of Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’ that blended well with the ambient BDSM noises around her. Yet as the quirt fell again, along the lowest curves of her ass, she knew the endorphins were rushing through her body. Her limbs were beginning to feel floaty and although she knew from the sound of the blows that Arturo hadn’t let up, not the least little bit, the blows were beginning to merge into a tingling, buzzing, warmth. It was also travelling inward, converging on the hypersensitive recesses between her legs. It wouldn’t take much for her to give into it and soar, fly high into sub space, but she didn’t dare let herself go over the edge.
Another sharp lash of the quirt pushed her near, but she held on, curling her nails into her palms to check herself. She should end it before it was too late, before he achieved the severity that she needed to send her over the top. But it felt good, really good, and she’d missed this so much. So, she let it continue.
However, in an attempt to reduce the impending euphoria and quell the endorphin rush, she turned her thoughts to mundane things, the sale at her shop that weekend, the dry cleaning that was due to be picked up, the long drive home sitting on leather seats while her ass cheeks were on fire.
A particularly stinging stroke landed across her upper thighs and redirected her back to the scene. She hissed on an indrawn breath at the blaze of pain it had ignited and the exquisite pleasure.
“I’m glad to have your attention, ma petite. Am I boring you?”
She shook her head, catching her lower lip between her teeth to keep from crying out. Not from the pain of it, although it was there, but in her alternately wired mind, what she steeled herself against was crying out and begging him for more. More of what she hungered for, had craved to the point of desperation, and had been missing from her life for so long.
The quirt landed once again in the same spot, pushing her closer to the edge where euphoria waited, glistening on the horizon like a beacon, leading her to the place where she was beyond pain, if that even made sense. Not only physical, but also where emotional and spiritual pain existed no longer. It was a state of sublime being, an incredible ecstasy as strongly compelling as the most addictive drug.
“Again, I find I am repeating myself.” This was spoken low in her ear as he leaned into her back. Her head was drawn back the next second as his fist wound into her hair. She found herself looking up into hypnotic green eyes. A dark brow quirked as he waited. “I asked a question, Mari.”
While nearly tongue tied by the
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