Page 105 of Something Like Sunflowers

“Hunter, I am going to die if you don’t—”

He chuckles, his heavy body easing on top of mine, as he lays long, languid kisses over every inch of my exposed skin, summoning pleasure from every nerve ending I possess, pinching and tugging at various spots in the roping as he goes, snapping it against me and making tiny, painful scratches over my body. It only seems to make the pulsing in my breasts and my pussy more intense, like a balloon, tight and eager, stretched to its fullness and in danger of popping with just one quick prick.

That’s all it would take for me, just one prick. I try not to snicker at the double meaning and fail, earning me a swat to the pussy that only spurs me on.

He’s so hot laying into this kink. I tilt my hips up as high as I can while still bound to the bench by my ankles, and Hunter stands again, backing away, inspecting me.

“You can’t stand not being in control, can you, princess?”

“No,” I grind out, straining against the bindings, even though I kind of like them. I’m enjoying being this secure, and it’s exhilarating being at his mercy. “That’s kind of the point of the hair tie. It gives me control of the pain.”

“And this will give you control of the pleasure.” He grabs his riding crop from its spot on the bench. “You will count each strike. And when you’ve had as much pain as you can take, I’ll fill you with pleasure.”

“You’ll fill me with something, I hope.”

He huffs, shooting me an incredulous glare.

“Jesus, Dev, we’re doing a sexy thing…could ya just—”

“Sorry. Continue.” I blink my doe eyes up at him and wink. “Daddy.”

He shakes his head at me, smiling as he swats my pussy again, but this time it’s with the riding crop, not his hand. And it stings.

But…do I like this?

I close my eyes, moaning softly as his fingers rub soft, feather-like circles over my plumped-up pussy lips between the hot pink roping. It feels heavenly, the soft caress over the stinging pinpricks of before.

“That’s it, babygirl, lean into it,” Hunter purrs in that rich, Internet thirst-trappy voice of his. It’s not exactly a fake version of his own, but it’s more exaggerated, sexier for show.

Fuckable, as he puts it.

“Are you ready to count?” He strokes the crop, scanning my body. I nod, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for him to begin.

But he doesn’t, so I open my eyes to Hunter’s stern look of disapproval, and I have to suppress a giggle from slipping past my lips again when I realize why.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say.

And now he begins, leaving only a heartbeat before snapping the riding crop over the bottom of my left breast.

“One!” I cry, sucking in breath through my teeth to hide how much it hurts. It surprised me, but then the soothing tickle of the leather as he trails the crop softly over the assaulted skin is enough to send ripples of pleasure to my pussy. I stretch my legs to test the give on the ropes that have my thighs held wide, but they don’t budge. They were tied up by a cowboy, after all, and that thought sends an electric shockwave down my core. I’m at his mercy.

Pain strikes down on me again before I can grip reality, and this time it’s to the skin just below my belly button. I buck my hips, a whimper falling from my vocal cords, unashamedly asking for more, faster, lower.

“Two, three, four, five,” I call as each strike finds its own place on the bits of skin beneath the bindings. I wonder if, when this is over, I’ll have marks in all directions, a mix of webs and welts, of pleasure and patience and pain coming to one.

Like life.

“Six, seven,” I scream, each strike getting progressively harder, the eighth and ninth peppering my hardened nipples and causing me to writhe beneath my bindings, the nylon straining against my skin and rubbing my clit just the right way if he’ll keep his body pressed against me for just a moment longer. I moan, bucking with what little give I can, but he moves his thigh where it’s been resting against the bench, relieving me of the pressure I was receiving and making me scream, my body wishing it could be free to climb him like an animal.

“Fuck me, please!” I shout, followed by a smack.

“Ten!” I cry out as his riding crop flares across my clitoris, my pussy exploding with electricity as he drops the crop and, thank the lord, gets to his knees, slides a knife from his boot, and slices the ropes from my body like a package, which, to be honest is hot as hell, my man, inspecting my body, kissing my scars, licking my swollen breasts like he hasn’t had an ice cream in all his life and my chest is a full on hot fudge sundae.

The absolute skank inside me slips free, and I hardly recognize myself, leaning fully into this kinky game of predator and prey.

“Please, Daddy,” I moan, rubbing my nipples and biting my bottom lip. “I was so good. Won’t you split me open with your cock?” I twist my lips up, playfully, and he growls in response, grinning dangerously at me and yanking me free from my hot pink bindings before shoving inside me all the way to the hilt. I gasp, the fullness inside me leaving little room for air, and he groans from deep within.

“Such a little slut. So fucking wet for me.” He sucks the skin on my neck and leaves absolutely no room for me to confuse him with a gentleman when he hooks my knees over his shoulders and finds a whole new angle to fuck me from that has me literally gushing, squirting…

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