Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“What’s your safeword?” he asked.
The sudden memory of her confusion and surprise when he’d instructed her to use the Masters Club safeword during the flogging session returned to him. That asshole had taken away that safety net, and she’d let him do it.
But she’d had a life before Master John, and probably a safeword as well. It would take time to undo all the damage the man had caused, but Eric was both patient and determined.
To his relief, she offered no protest this time. Instead, she said, “Banana.”
The phallic choice made him smile. “Banana,” he repeated. “Got it.”
He took another step back. She was watching him with those huge, dark eyes, her full lips softly parted, her need palpable. She looked so fucking hot, her thighs held wide in the thick leather loops, her wrists cuffed to the chains of the swing.
“Are you ready, sub girl?” he queried.
She swallowed visibly, her eyes fixed on the wicked little whip in his hand.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He flicked the whip lightly over one perfect thigh, not enough to leave a mark. He did the same on the second thigh, recalling how well she’d taken the flogging, and how effortlessly she’d flown.
A single-tail whipping was much harder to take than a sensual flogging. Could he lead her through and past the pain to that sublime place once again?
Only one way to find out.
He flicked the whip, harder this time, his cock pulsing at the sound of leather striking tender flesh. She drew in a small breath, but otherwise betrayed no reaction. He struck the other thigh, this time leaving a thin red line against the smooth skin.
Her breath was still even, her hands relaxed above the cuffs. She could take more. A lot more.
Settling into a rhythm, Eric flicked the lash along the tender flesh in no particular pattern. He intensified the stroke by degrees, always watching to see how she tolerated the pain. Her skin was stippled now with red marks, and her breath was coming faster.
Eric struck harder, finally pulling a small cry from her lips. A long white line appeared on her flesh, darkening quickly to red. Though the other marks were already barely visible against her reddening flesh, that one would last awhile.
The delicate, spicy scent of her arousal perfumed the air. Resisting the impulse to tear away the lace that covered her sex, he asked, “More?”
“Yes, please,” she begged. “More.”
Those three words, and the emotion behind them, told him all he needed to know. She didn’t just want this whipping—she needed it as surely as she needed air and water. And he needed to give her what she craved.
The whip whistled and struck, painting a series of crisscrossing lines over her inner thighs. She was panting now, her chest heaving, her fingers clenched around the chains above her head. A thin sheen of sweat gleamed on her forehead and upper lip, and her chest and throat were splashed with color.
He would stop soon, whether or not she used her safeword. He didn’t want to inadvertently break the skin with his whip. Just a little more, and he would stop.
“Oh,” she whimpered, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her face twisted in pain. “It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.”
He paused a beat, waiting for her to say stop, to open her eyes, to use her safeword.
She did none of these things.
Encouraged, he snapped the whip again, leaving another long red welt along her silken flesh.
She gasped in pain, a whimper escaping her lips.
He struck again, a symmetrical mark on the opposite thigh.
“Oooh,” she breathed. It was no longer a whimper, but a sigh, long and sweet. Her head fell back, the tension leaving her face and body. Her fingers relaxed their grip and a small, secret smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Yes,” he breathed in response, thrilled to his bones at what he was witnessing. Feeling her need for just a little more, he didn’t lower his whip, though he did ease the intensity of the strokes. As she swayed, the smile still lingering on her face, he continued until the lash was just a whisper against her flesh.
Eventually, he let his hand fall to his side. He stood, drinking in the sight of her as she gently swayed in the bondage sling, lost in her private reverie. The connection between them remained like a kite string tethering them together as she soared somewhere far away.
He moved closer, standing between her spread thighs. With a gentle hand, he cupped the back of her head.
Her eyes opened, though they remained unfocused for a moment before settling on his face. Then a beatific smile lit her features. “Eric,” she said, the word like a caress. “Kiss me. Please.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her hard and deep, giving in at last to all the pent-up desire he’d held back for so long.