Page 39 of Savage Game
She leaned her head against her outstretched arm.
With firm hands, he stroked her arms, her back, massaged her buttocks, and stroked down her legs. Snug leather cuffs closed around her ankles, and she couldn’t suppress a whimper. He stilled and stroked her calves. “Color?”
She looked over her shoulder. He was kneeling behind her. “Your leg!”
His smile was warm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, the damage to my leg is done and kneeling doesn’t hurt.” His lips curled further up. “Just don’t expect to see me on my knees before you often.”
She choked on a laugh. “I can’t believe you can make me laugh right now, but you did, and I’m at green again. Please continue, Sir. I don’t want to live my life as a frightened rabbit.”
“Brave Kittycat.”
The chains jangled as he secured her legs to the underside of the bedposts.
The sound was ominous, but his hands caressing her outer thighs kept her anchored and her fear at bay.
“I like to have you open for me, to watch how you surrender to me, and how you’re going to accept the kiss of the flogger.”
The fabric of his dress shirt stroked her buttocks and back as he rose and pressed his muscled chest against her.
When he cupped her shoulders and pushed closer to her, the distinctive ridge of his erection pressed against her backside, and heat sizzled through her body, distracting her from her worries.
With firm strokes, he rubbed his hands over her shoulders and arms, up again and down her back, ass, and thighs. Each stroke wakened her skin, settled her anxiety, and ignited her libido. Pressing his front against her back again, he reached around her, stroked her belly, and teased the tickle spot at her hips, making her giggle and squirm in her bonds.
When he moved his hands upwards, palmed her breasts, and teased and rolled her nipples, her squirming was for a different reason and slickness coated her folds and thighs.
His hand slipped higher, and he sucked on her earlobe. She relaxed, lowered her eyelids, and parted her lips on a soft sigh.
Using one hand, he encircled her throat. Trembling, she sucked in a breath. He didn’t use any pressure, just held his hand around her air supply. The gesture was possessive and dominant, but it didn’t frighten her.
Master will take care of me, and I can relax in his care.
The revelation was so freeing. Releasing the breath she was holding, she gave over the reins completely. Engulfed by his warmth, his strength, and breathing in his scent, she leaned against him.
“You’re such a good girl,” he whispered in her ear and stepped away. Before she could miss his heat and comfort, velvety fingers tickled over her back. He caressed the skin with the flogger before the strands left her body and returned with a strange sensation.
She let out a small gasp at the shock, but it didn’t hurt—not even a sting.
“Can you give me a number?” His hand pressed against the flogged skin, and heat sizzled inside her.
“About a two, Sir.”
“Excellent.” He moved the strands up and down her back in a careful rhythm.
She swayed like leaves in the wind with the impact and allowed herself to drift. The strokes went over her buttocks to her thighs and back up. Her bottom, thighs, and back began to sting, and the blows left a light burning sensation behind.
The moment, she reached the point of discomfort, he eased off and stroked a cool hand over the burning flesh. Again, he inquired how she was doing.
She exhaled and swayed in her bindings. “About a five, Sir.”
Is he done?
Without warning, he flicked strands over her left breast, and her eyes flew open.
Involuntarily, she pulled on the chains. She focused on his face. He wasn’t looking at her breasts. He was studying her, running his eyes over her face, shoulders, and arms. Checking how she was doing.
His cheek creased and pulled on the scar. “Where are we on the scale?”
Scale? Oh, the pain scale.
