Roses and Chains by Delphine Dryden

Delia’s moan made him want to cheer.
    He swung again, aiming for an upper thigh this time, and Delia cried out, tipping
    forward on her toes, twisting a little at the wrists as they took more of her weight. Her writhing made it more difficult to aim the next blow, but he lined it up carefully and laid a matching stripe on her other thigh.
    That earned a scream. But not a safe word. He was still learning her limits, but he had a comfort level too. The next few strikes were no harder, and it seemed to work
    well. Another two, and then he switched to a rain of peppery little pops against the already reddened skin of her hindquarters. Never the same place twice, angling the
    tawse so the tip rather than the flat delivered the hit.
    He stopped after a dozen or so of those love-taps, not wanting to bruise her. Too
    much.
    “Your ass looks gorgeous, sub.”
    When she didn’t answer with words, just a whimper, he walked around to look at
    her. She was sagging down on the restraints a little and her face was deeply flushed.
    Daniel reached a hand between her legs and made an instinctive soothing noise as he
    stroked his fingers along her slit. She was drenched.
    At his touch, Delia’s noise was anything but soothing. She moaned like a wild
    animal and came back to life, thrusting at his hand in a mindless, ancient rhythm.
    He thought it was probably time to take things to the next level.
    “Be still, sub. Mara, come help me take her down.”
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    The darker girl was there in an instant, and looked as though she hadn’t been bored
    at all in the interim. She unclipped Delia efficiently and held her firmly at the waist while she regained her balance, then let go and stood by in her parade rest again.
    Delia just stood, sides heaving, trembling, as if she’d just run a marathon. Daniel
    was struck by the contrast between them, the flushed blonde and the pale, black-haired girl. Their coloring was dramatically different, but their builds were similar enough that he suspected they could share clothes if they wanted to. They reminded him of
    something, and it finally came to him.
    “Snow White and Rose Red,” he said softly.
    Delia turned toward his voice. “Master?”
    He smiled as he approached her and slipped the blindfold off over her head,
    working it free of her ponytail. “You two look like Snow White and Rose Red.”
    “I can’t remember that one,” she said, blinking her eyes back into focus. “Master.”
    “I don’t remember the whole thing either. I’ll look it up later. Come this way.” He
    led her to the couch and sat down, spreading his legs and turning her around between them. Coaxing her to sit with her back to his chest, he looped his arms under hers and used his feet to hold her legs at the ankles. Then he nodded at Mara, who kneeled
    before them.
    “Let’s take some clamps off.”
    “Fuck!”
    Daniel and Mara both laughed at Delia’s reaction. He had used much milder
    clamps on her nipples before, little nooses that seemed more for decoration than
    anything else. But even those hurt her more coming off than going on. With the
    butterfly clips, he could only imagine the pain she would be in for. Which was why he had taken the proactive measure of restraining her.
    “First one.”
    “No no no, just give me a minute, just—”
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    “Mara, do it now.”
    “Fuuuuuuuck!”
    Mara had flicked the clamp off in one expert motion, and the reaction hit Delia’s
    body a second later. It felt like holding a live wire, and Daniel wanted to chortle with glee at the fact that this fabulous woman actually let him have this much leeway with her body. The pain was a gift, just the outward sign, not even the most important part.
    It was the absolute trust—she would let him restrain her, exposed, while she endured these sweet agonies—that drove him crazy every damn time.
    “Second one. Hold still, sub. We’re not done yet.”
    “Owwwwwwwww ow ow ow!”
    “Whiny