Page 73 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“As long as you don’t set me on fire.”

“Blood?”

“Can I think about it?”

“We’ll leave that one for another time. Penetration?”

Oh God, please, yes.

“Not a limit,” I manage to whisper past the sudden tightness in my throat and the blood rushing from my head to my cock.

“May I see you naked?”

“Yes, sir.”

Instead of lifting my shirt over my head, he stretches the armholes over my shoulders, briefly strapping my arms to my torso until he slowly moves them down to trap my wrists. With my chest exposed, he slides his hands beneath the elastic waist of my joggers and pushes them down my thighs, exposing my ass.

“Bend over.”

I do, carefully. Without my arms for balance, I engage my core until I’m bent with my wrists touching my knees.

Still behind me, he gets a firm hold on each one of my ass cheeks and pulls them apart, stretching my hole. Blood is already filling my face, but humiliation floods me. I let out a shuddering breath and try to make space for this feeling. It’s not a good one.

I grimace at the sudden war going on inside me. I can straighten up anytime, step away and saynot for me, bro, but something in me is screaming that I owe it to myself to see this through—let all my warring emotions manifest themselves in humiliation and physical pain to match the internal anguish that haunts my dreams and far too many of my waking hours.

He holds my cheeks apart a long time, making my asshole burn badly. Finally, when a drop of my sweat hits the floor, he says, “I need you on the horse. Stand up.”

He punctuates the demand with a sharp crack of his hand on the underside of my ass, and I gasp. Grabbing the waistband he created with my shirt, he yanks me to standing. I take a few deep breaths.

“Turn around, Christian.”

I face him but keep my gaze down. He frees my wrists from the arm holes, leaving the rest of the shirt around my waist. “Keep this. Take off the rest of it.”

I undress, and he guides me toward the mysterious piece offurniture—the horse? It’s sort of like a short, two-sided park bench, but the horizontal surfaces aren’t big enough to sit on.

It’s for straddling.

“Chest here,” he says, patting the topmost surface. “Knees here.”

The two lower surfaces support my knees and shins as I bend over and mount the thing. If I press my chest to the top, it will force my ass high in the air, so for the moment, I put my hands there, kneeling.

From the bottom nightstand drawer, he pulls out restraints. Leather cuffs and chains. Like last time, he secures my ankles first, locking them to rings on either side of the bench. He then shackles my wrists together. When he tugs on the chain that connects them, our eyes meet briefly. “Chestdown, Christian.”

Like a supplicant, I bow. As I lower my chest, my ass lifts, and he draws the chain between my wrists nearly to the floor. With my arms fully extended, he secures my wrists to the lowest ring on the bench. I have to turn my head and rest my cheek on the upper ridge.

“This,” he says as an aria swells. “Is submission.”

No shit.

I refuse to consider what I must look like right now, my ass sticking out like a greedy slut and my dick hard on my abs, leaking despite the adrenaline, which is all I can feel besides the strain and shame of the position. I can no longer see his face, but I do see his tie drop to the floor, then his shirt.

Cruel twist.

He runs a hand through my hair and pulls. I get a glimpse of his abs before he lets me go. I’m alone with the music for a few long moments, and my breath picks up speed. I’m guessing it’s intentional, but he lets me see what he’s about to use on me by walking past me on the side where my face is turned.

It’s a flogger. I know that much. Leather straps, some single, some braided. I bite my lip but let it go quickly because I’m notsure what I’m about to feel. I try to clear my head. Let the music fill it. I recognize the cadence of Italian words.

The leather runs up my spine, down my crack, tickles my hole, and then connects with the exact spot he slapped with his hand, just below my right ass cheek in an upward motion that stings and steals my breath.

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