Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
I wish I could rub my pussy on this polished wood. Every stroke carries me higher. The flogging continues, and I don’t know when it happened, but suddenly I’m floating. I’m floating in a warm, pink patch of air.
“You’re doing so well, Selene.” The flogger’s smooth handle touches my labia’s soft folds, followed by his fingers. I whimper.
“You’re so wet. So delicious. A juicy peach, I could just eat you.” I flinch and he laughs. “Maybe later. Right now, this is all I want.” He keeps rubbing and I twist out of reach.
“What are you doing?”
His arm snakes around, securing me so he can keep fondling me. He sets his chin on my shoulder and murmurs in my ear, “Does it feel good?”
My chest heaves as my orgasm floats closer.
“Ask me permission before you come.”
I shake my head no, more for my own determination than response to him. No, I will not ask permission. No, I will not come.
“All right.” He steps away and I sag forward, my body bowing at the loss. He wipes wet fingers on my ass before taking his spot behind me. The flogger flies again, stinging my back with the soft leather strands.
“It’s your choice, pet. Always your choice.”
How can that be true? How did I end up here, tied up willingly, dying for touch, sensation, anything. A soft touch. A stinging rain. Anything.
“You’re a strong woman.” The flogger thuds up and down my back. “You want to prove it. I understand. But, Selene”--He pauses to step close and trail the strands over my ass until tingles run up my spine--“there’s nothing wrong with letting go. You want it.” His voice deepens, darkens. “I want it. In bondage, you can fly free.”
I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I lean on the cross, hanging from the cuffs, my fingers fondling my chains. I want to arch my back and rub my pussy against this wood. I want to push my ass backwards and beg him to flog me harder.
“Harder,” I whisper to the wood grain.
“What’s that, Selene? What do you want?”
“Harder. More.”
“Good girl.” He rewards me, warming me up with every increasing blow. I twist and dance as the beat on my back pushes me higher.
Lucius
My pet’s back is a pretty pink painting, slashed through with red. She responded better than I could have dreamed, enjoying the warm up and willing to go to the next level. I crouch to inspect a particularly cruel mark on her ass. Her shifter healing is kicking in, flooding her body with endorphins. As I rise, I get a whiff of her juicy cunt.
I set aside the flogger and do what I’ve been longing to do all night. I run my hands over her body, soothing and claiming her heated flesh.
“Ooooh,” she sighs into my touch. She’s been longing for it, too.
I’m not all gracious. I squeeze and pinch and admire my marks. “You wear my marks so well, pet. I should whip you every night.”
She shivers but the wet folds of her pussy tell me how she really feels.
“You’ve been such a good girl,” I whisper. “I’m going to touch you now and let you come. You’ll have to ask nicely when you’re on the edge.” I press my body against hers, clamping my left arm around her narrow waist and reaching between her legs with my right. She’s so wet, my fingers are soaked by the time I find her clit and nudge the sensitive spot along its side. She’s right on the edge, pressing against my hold, breath gusting. I hold her tighter.
“Ask for permission,” I order.
She tosses her head, still proud, but when I touch her again, she melts. I rub faster, taking note of her flushed chest, her harsh breathing. She’s done so well, I want to reward her. But first--
“Ask, Selene.”
“Please--”
Yes. “Come for me,” I growl in her ear and nip her soft lobe. Her body shudders, bucking and responding. She cries out as she tips over.
Magnificent.
“That’s it, baby,” I croon and hold her close. I let her come down and sag against the wooden frame. She worked hard for that one. One day I’ll work her up and over again and again, all night. But not tonight. We’re done.
I uncuff her and let her down, gathering her up in my arms. I carry her to my giant leather chesterfield, set facing the cross for this purpose. A water bottle and small towel waits on a side table. I open the water and dribble a little into her mouth before wetting the washcloth and wiping her down. I give her the rest of the water, holding the bottle for her, and wrap her in a soft blanket. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips plump and begging for a kiss. For a bite.