Page 70 of Taming Scarlet

The gasp that escaped her was what I was looking for.

Shock and pain.

That was what would open her up.

“Count.”

“Six,” she strangled out.

I teased some more, around her nipple, over her pelvic bone. Letting her forget the pain before cracking the crop across the sensitive space of her inner thigh.

“Ow,” she cried out, her body jolting. “Seven,” she whimpered as the tip of the crop slid between her pussy lips, grazing over her clit.

She sensed it the second before it happened.

The crop landing on the cleft of her pussy.

“Eight,” she cried as tears pricked her eyes. Another. “Nine,” she gasped as the tears slid down her cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t,” she claimed then.

But I proved her wrong with ten.

“Are you done?” I asked as she sniffled, as the tears flowed.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Then you’re not, pet,” I said, this time slapping one thigh, then the next, before another strike to her sweet pussy.

“I’m done,” she cried.

“That’s my good girl,” I said, turning the crop in my hand then pressing the handle against her mouth. “Open,” I demanded, slipping it into her mouth as her body shook as the emotions poured out.

I fucked her mouth with the handle for a second, getting it good and wet, before slipping it between her thighs, and finally, pressing it into her. Just a bit. Fucking her with it until she was writhing and whimpering.

Only then did I plunge it deeper, thrusting lazily as her body climbed toward the release she needed so badly.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” I demanded, fucking her a little faster. “Shh, pet,” I hushed her as her moans got loud enough that the music wasn’t going to mask it anymore. “Quiet, or you don’t get to come,” I added when she didn’t immediately behave.

She pressed her lips tightly together just as the orgasm slammed through her system, making her body jolt.

The sound was muffled as I got to watch her body tense and relax as the orgasm gripped, then released her.

Finished, I removed the crop handle, then moved with it to the bathroom, leaving her alone there, knowing she needed the quiet time with herself and her emotions, so she could continue to work through them.

I washed the crop and my hands, then moved back out there, finding her staring at the ceiling, eyes far away.

Coming around the bed, I released her ankles then wrists, before climbing onto the bed, and pulling her up against me.

“What was that about, pet?” I asked, my fingers seeking her hair, and slipping through the silky strands.

“He took every chance he could to dig at me,” she said, sounding suddenly tired.

“Your father? Or Stephen?” I asked.

To that, she snorted.

“Both, I guess. But I was talking about my father.”

“I’ll admit that a lot of that conversation went so over my head that I wasn’t fully paying attention, but I didn’t pick up on that, pet.”

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