Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
There’s nothing in the world beyond her prone body—the heat shimmering off her, the sweat rolling down her back. A twitch of her eyebrow. I am made and remade in the rise and fall of her chest.
Even when I work to master her, it’s me who is in thrall.
I step close, scenting the sweet bloom of her arousal, and stroke her. She hums a sigh, letting her head loll.
“You’re doing so well. Good girl.”
Her black brows knot. A part of her wants to reject the compliment. She’ll come to crave them in time.
I twist the screws on her nipple clamps tighter, watching the tiny muscles in her face jump.
Another round of flogging, another turn of the screws. There’s sweat beading on my back now. My shoulders are warm with the heat of a good workout. My cock is an iron bar, hanging awkwardly down my leg. I run the hard ridge of my palm down my length, savor the painful pleasure, and get back to work.
I let the flogger cleave her psyche open, filling her world with pain. She’ll be awash with it, full to the brim, and floating on the ocean until the golden tide of her neurotransmitters transforms the sensation into euphoria. Agony to ecstasy in the span of a simple flogging.
I have many plans for her. Ropes, chains, blindfolds and bindings, even a cage. But all these serve one purpose, one end. Surrender.
She’s close. We’re nearing the end. I drop the flogger and return to her side to stroke her reddened flesh. Her skin glows with heat, singeing my palms, and her flesh is raw enough that the kindest touch is cruel. I croon to her as I give the screws a final twist, letting her poor, abused nipples feel the maximum pinch of the spring-loaded teeth. She hums a moan but endures.
I check her vitals and give her more water before returning to my row of implements to choose my final weapon. A dragon tail.
The black leather cracks like lightning and bites like the serpent. I let the pointed end taste her skin over and over in increasingly painful pops. She shouts and writhes, but when I step close to admire the blooming red roses on her skin, her pussy gushes into my hand. I tease her until she’s panting but pull away before she goes over the edge.
Time for my finale. I crack the whip and flick the nipple clamp off her right breast. Her body snaps upward like she’s a puppet, and someone cut all but the middle string leading from her navel. Her cries are high and breathy. I wait until she comes down to let the dragon tail bite one more time and send the left nipple clamp flying. Her heels thrum against the table, an orgasm surging through her like an electric shock.
I drop the whip.
“Lula, are you with me?”
I squeeze her fingers and wait until she presses mine in return. “You did so well, my beauty.” I lay a hand on her stomach, and she shudders so prettily. I can’t take it anymore. I shove my pants open and take myself in hand.
She’s dazed, floating in subspace now. I lean in and lick her tortured right breast. She draws a juddering breath, and I switch to the left one, my tongue circling her tender nipple. Her unhappy mewl only spurs me on. It’s not until she lets out a sob that the pleasure gathered at the base of my spine breaches the dam. I let the orgasm take me and spurt my seed over her reddened flesh. I collect some and paint her lips with it. She’s earned this much.
“You’ll have to earn my cock,” I tell her and am gratified by the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
9
Lula
I float in a haze of nothing. My eyes are open, but the images are blurred and unfocused, like I’m looking at the world through rain-spattered glass. I reach for my anger, my readiness, but it slips through my fingers. My own body drugged me as effectively as Victor did with a needle earlier today. Or was it yesterday?
Water laps at my legs, washing my scourged flesh. It hurts and soothes, much like everything Victor’s done to me.
My captor has me in his arms. I’m taller for a woman, with strong thighs and an ample backside, but next to Victor, I’m petite. I feel every inch of the height difference between us.
Together, we sink into the bath. He’s got me cradled close, and for once, I’m grateful for his proximity. My strength is gone. If he wasn’t holding me, I would slip under the water and drown.
I don’t know how long we soak together. The bath is Roman style, big enough to fit Victor one and a half times or one of him and all of me. There’s a bright flash of metal in the corner of my eye, but I am too limp and wrung out to wince at the intimidating sight of the straight razor. He sets it to my ankle, and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s shaving me.