Page 87 of Dr. Fellow

He glides the cool metal up my neck and to my cheek, before pulling back and tracing my bottom lip with the rough edge of the tip.

His eyes fall to my mouth. “Kiss it. Run those pretty lips and tongue along my crop before I use it to kiss your soft skin.”

I meet his dark, lust-filled gaze as I press my lips to the toy, darting my tongue over the short length to wet the leather. His pupils dilate when I move to take the entire thing in my mouth, soaking it in my saliva before I release it with a slight pop. A distinctive sense of pride runs through me as his lips quirk into a smirk, praising me once again before he continues.

People always rag on submissives for being weak, or timid, or powerless. But the truth is, I can’t think of a time in my life when I’ve felt more powerful. I could stop this at any time, make him question his carnal desires, and shame him for his kinks, but I’m making the conscious choice to give myself to him for our own mutual pleasure—I can’t think of anything more empowering.

Walker trails the tip of the crop down my body, benevolently avoiding my clamped nipples. He slides it over my belly, and I widen my stance while trying to avoid the tug of the hook on my ass from the movement. The leather strokes the length of my inner thighs, all of the nerves singing with desperation beneath its gentle caress.

Once he reaches the crease of my thigh, he slowly slides the flat side through my slit, stopping right above my clit. I feel my core clench in anticipation of him swatting the sensitive bud, but he doesn’t. He just holds it firmly against my pussy, watching me with hooded eyes like he enjoys the way I squirm.

I wince when he finally pulls back, my body tensing as I prepare for a blow that never comes. Instead, he lifts the tip to his nose, inhales deeply, and lets out a raspy groan like he’s savoring the smell of my arousal.

He drops the crop to his palm again, giving it another testing swat before he positions himself beside me. His body feels like a solid wall of muscle as he presses against me, grabbing my hip with one hand to hold me in place while he drags the crop from the top of my ass to the back of my knees.

Walker strokes my skin like he’s defining the area that he’s about to mark, and I focus on my breathing, each heavy exhale reminding me of the delicious pinch of the clamps.

Finally, he settles the crop against the meaty part of my ass, holding it steady as he tightens his hold on my hip.

“You’re in quite the predicament, little devil. Strung up in my office and forced to decide between the pull from of hook in your ass, or the clamps on your nipples,” he rasps breathily, his erection pressing into my side. “I’m going to use my crop on you now. If I were you, I’d stay as still as possible and take every blow like a good girl. Show me how much you like the pain, and I’ll reward you with pleasure.”

I only nod, bracing myself for the sting.

He strikes my flesh so softly at first that I barely feel it, and then repeats the same tender kisses every few seconds as I adjust to the sensation. Once he’s marked the entirety of my ass, he doubles the force of the blows. This time I hear the distinctive sound of the crop through the air, but the feeling is still tolerable.

Despite the slight pain, the tension in my body fades into a deeply relaxed state, just like it did the night I held his cock in my throat. I take slow, soothing breaths as the pace of his crop escalates, now coming every second and with more force. The hum of arousal in my core is at an all-time high, not nearing orgasm but simply existing in a state of pleasurable pain. It’s intoxicating, and I almost miss the moment Walker stops his whipping.

He drops the crop to the floor and shifts his body to wrap me in his arms. A wave of warmth washes over me with his embrace, and I tilt my neck to allow my head to fall against his chest. He murmurs praises into my hair, telling me that he’s so proud of me, that I did well, that I deserve to come.

I close my eyes with a prolonged sigh as his fingers skim my pussy and slip between the slickness to circle my clit. Almost immediately, the exquisite tension returns, the freight train of my impending orgasm racing toward me. My legs start to quake, both from the exhaustion of holding myself up on the balls of my feet and from the torment of release on the horizon.

Walker immediately picks up on it, slowing his movements.

“No,” I beg, my eyes finding his. “Don’t stop, Sir.”

His brow knits, trying to understand. “Give me a color.”

I wrack my brain, not wanting this to stop but also fully aware that I can’t come like this.

“Yellow, Sir,” I whimper.

His free hand gently reaches down to slide my sweat-covered hair off my neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need . . . I need to come so bad but I’m going to fall.”

My legs are far too close to giving out, and if that happens, my nipples are going to rip right off my body.

Realization floods his face, and he quickly snakes his arm around my low belly to secure me against his hard body. The strain of the clamps and hook is still present, but I know without a doubt that he won’t drop me.

“Better,” I confirm, offering him a small smile. “Keep going, Sir.”

I know it sounds ridiculous to use the formal phrase at this point, but I like it. It helps me differentiate between this dynamic and everything else we do, solidifying us into this space with a single word.

Walker’s eyes flicker with arousal as his fingers begin to tease my sensitive bundle of nerves, building me back up as I race toward my release.

He tilts his hips forward, grinding his cock against me, and the shift pulls my arms higher, tugging on my nipples just enough to make me wince.

“I want you to come for me, little devil. Let that pain from those clamps push you over the edge of pleasure.”

---