Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Oh, god,” she finally moaned, her body trembling.
“Don’t forget,” he warned her.
“May I—” She couldn’t seem to get the words out. She gasped as he relentlessly thrust the cock in and out of her slick, gaping cunt.
“Oh, god,” she panted. “Please. May I come…” The last word was drawn out and ended in a rising scream.
“Yes,” he assented, his voice hoarse with lust. “Come for me, you slut.”
Jerking hard in her restraints, the chain whipping wildly between her breasts, Alana climaxed with a long, high-pitched wail.
Mark watched, entranced, his hand moving furiously over his own cock now, unable to hold on for another second. In less than a minute, he sent long ribbons of hot ejaculate over her belly and thighs, his pleasure yanked from his body as he groaned with deep satisfaction.
~*~
Alana drifted a moment in the aftermath of the powerful climax, the endorphins from the orgasm sending waves of warm pleasure through her body. After a while, discomfort began to intrude on the pleasure. Her nipples and her arms were numb, and her ankles were chafed from the slave bracelets rubbing against the cuffs of the spreader bar. She longed to close her legs, to lie down and wrap her arms around her body as she curled into a tight, protected ball.
She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the tall, naked man standing in front of her, his spent cock still fisted in his hand, his blond hair flopping over his forehead and into his green-gold eyes.
Dimly, she recalled the before time, when she’d been surrounded by friends and lovers, but she let the memories slide away. It was easier just to forget. Mark was all that existed now. He was the man, the Master, who gave her food, or withheld it. The man who would force her into the punishment cage, or take her lovingly into his bed. The man who gave her incredible sexual pleasure—pleasure she’d never known with another person—but always at a steep price.
The bondage, clamps and the anal plug were not enough of a price for the orgasm—she knew that. For each pound of pleasure, he would exact at least two of pain. In a peculiar way, she almost looked forward to it. Because once he hurt her, then he would let her down. He would bathe her and soothe her and hold her tenderly in his arms.
It was all so confusing, and she was tired. She longed to be released from the suspension rack, but she knew better than to ask. In order to survive, she’d learned silence and obedience in her time here. How long had it been? Days, weeks, months? She had no idea. Time had lost its meaning, reduced to small blocks of pleasure, pain, deprivation, fear, tenderness.
So confusing…
Give me the pain, so I can rest, she telegraphed to the Master.
He smiled slowly, a cruel lift of sensual lips, and she knew he’d heard her silent plea. He moved behind her and tugged lightly at the nasty plug he’d shoved into her ass.
Back in her other life, she’d never permitted anyone to touch her there—end of story. But that other life no longer existed.
Forget it. Let it go…
The thing had really hurt going in, especially that last flared bit, but then it had been okay. When he’d fucked her with that huge dildo, at first she’d thought he was going to split her in two, but then something wonderful had happened—the thick, hard fullness inside her had completely taken her over, pushing out all thoughts, fear and pain, replacing it with a dark, heady pleasure that produced a powerful, obliterating orgasm. That was the best—when the pleasure and the pain blocked out everything else—when she was fully in the moment, her mind blissfully shut down.
The plug eased out of her, and Mark appeared in her peripheral vision as he dropped the offending object into a bowl, no doubt for later cleaning. The thought made her blush with humiliation and for a moment, hatred pushed its way through her consciousness, but she shook it away. Hate was too exhausting, and only made her cry with frustration and fury.
Easier just to accept…
Mark reappeared in front of her. He tugged lightly at the chain between her breasts, awakening the sleeping nerve endings in her numbed nipples. “These have to come off, Alana. It’s going to hurt, but only for a second.”
Before she could react, he pressed on the sides of each clamp, releasing the tight mechanisms that held them in place.
The pain was blinding—a white-hot explosion of agony, and Alana screamed, tears springing to her eyes.
“Oh, poor baby. Let me distract you,” Mark said in that silky, smooth tone that was at once seductive and sadistically evil, a sure signal the “distraction” would not be a pleasant one.
He picked up a riding crop from the umbrella stand he kept filled with crops, canes and whips, and brought it down hard against one tender nipple. Another explosion of raw pain hurtled through Alana’s frame. He struck the second nipple, and then moved behind her. With a steady slapping of leather against skin, he painted her ass and the backs of her thighs with fire until she was crying, panting and begging him to stop.