Page 40 of Vienna Bargain

And that didn’t make her want him any less.

He released her nipples and she screamed as the blood returned to the aching, abused tips. Her breasts were now throbbing thanks to the combination of the spanking and the pinches.

When he grabbed the spoon, she jerked violently to the side. She couldn’t take it if he struck her nipple right now. It would hurt too much.

Your safe word. Use your safe word.

No. She wouldn’t do that, because if she did and he didn’t stop…

He stepped away and the loss of contact hurt almost as much as her abused breasts.

He brought the spoon down on her ass in a vicious blow that brought tears to her eyes. Then another blow to the other cheek, and another.

This wasn’t like the methodical impact play they’d engaged in before. It was less controlled, more sadistic. He beat her ass with the spoon until her protective coating of confidence was stripped away and she was crying softly, her voice hoarse from the screams he’d ripped from her when he hit a spot that was already hot and sore. He kept going even after she fell quiet, her focus narrowed to the feeling of the spoon striking her, the pain that didn’t abate, only spiked with each blow before settling back to a burning throb.

When he stopped, she was hanging from the chains, her leg muscles exhausted from the pain-induced trembling. That in turn caused her shoulders to burn from the pull of her body weight against the delicate joints.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Alena tried to brace her knees against the foot of the bed and push up, but her thigh muscles quivered and she dropped back, knees bent, toes braced on the floor but not supporting her.

“I said stand up.”

Alena closed her eyes and ignored him. This wasn’t the numbness she’d felt when traveling, but instead the peace that came from pain and submission driving out all other feelings and thoughts.

She’d just experienced the harshest beating she’d ever taken, all from a simple wooden spoon, and instead of the horror she would have expected from this much pain she felt calm and accepting.

Maybe this is what it feels like to be a BDSM slave.

Alexander sat on the bed once more, hiking up his pant leg in that precise little tug men did which she found oddly appealing.

He still held the spoon, and she watched as he ran his fingers around the circular end. “It’s hot,” he murmured. “From the contact with you.”

He extended his arm, holding the spoon backwards. The blunt end of the handle flicked back and forth over her nipples. Arousal swept through her, though it was half-buried by the pain.

“If I asked you now, would you tell me everything?” he murmured.

Alena’s gaze jumped to his face. Their eyes locked, and she was terrified of the answer to that question.

Even more terrified by the intense urge to drop her gaze, to submit to him fully and without reservation.

Instead she closed her eyes, the last remnants of her pride and defiance keeping her chin up. She heard him open a drawer, felt him walk around so he was once more behind her. When his hips pressed against her ass, she cried out in pain, but leaned back against him, seeking more contact, even if it hurt.

Alexander slid his thumb into her mouth and forced her teeth apart. With her eyes closed, the gag took her by surprise. As he shoved it into her mouth she jerked, the back of her head knocking against his cheek. Alexander growled and pulled back on the straps of the bit-style gag, forcing the heavily padded bar back between her teeth, which drew her lips back painfully.

Her tongue had also been shoved back and for a moment she felt like she was gagging and struggled. Alexander was merciless, keeping the pressure on, her head wedged against his shoulder and neck so that she had nowhere to go. She fought but there was nothing she could do.

She was helpless.

Bound and beaten.

Trapped.

Alena stopped fighting, though her breathing was still ragged. He released some of the pressure, resettling the gag so it was clamped between her teeth at the front of her mouth rather than the back. Then he fastened the straps behind her head.

“Stand up,” he said again. “Put your weight on your legs.”

Alena tried, but only halfheartedly. In this newfound level of masochism, she liked the helpless and painful feeling of hanging by her arms.

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