Page 15 of Betrayed

He halted briefly, checking in, running a broad hand over her abraded skin then humming a sound of approval before stepping back. Mari took stock as she waited, trembling in anticipation of the next stroke.

Around her, everything was muted, but she was still aware. She could hear the low moans and harsh cries of the other submissives receiving both pleasure and pain, the crack of whips and paddles, and the metallic ring of rattling chains. Her other senses were still functional. When she inhaled, the pervasive scents of leather and raw sex were easily identifiable, and when her lashes fluttered open, the spanking bench next to her was crystal clear as was the bright-red ass of the male sub who was getting lick upon lick from his mistress’ heavy hand.

Like the other subs, she was aroused, more so than she’d ever allowed during a scene at the club, and under Arturo’s expert hand so very close to flying. If she were in that dreamlike euphoric state, she wouldn’t have appreciated the jarring discord of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” that blended well with the ambient BDSM noises around her. Yet, as the quirt fell again, along the lowest curves of her ass, she knew the endorphins were rushing through her body.

Her limbs had that floaty feeling, and although she knew from the sound of the blows that Arturo hadn’t let up, not the least little bit, they merged into a tingling, buzzing, warmth. It traveled along her skin, but also inward, converging on the hypersensitive place between her legs. It wouldn’t take much for her to give in to it and soar, flying high into subspace, but she didn’t dare let herself go over the edge.

Another sharp lash of the quirt pushed her near, but she held on, curling her nails into her palms to check herself. She should end it before it was too late, before he achieved the severity that she needed to send over the top. But it felt good, really good, and she’d missed this so much. So, she let it continue.

In an attempt to reduce the impending euphoria and quell the endorphin rush, she turned her thoughts to mundane things, the sale at her shop that weekend, the dry cleaning that needed picking up—where had she put the ticket?—the long drive home sitting on leather seats while her ass cheeks were on fire.

A particularly stinging stroke landed across her upper thighs and redirected her back to the scene. She hissed at the blaze of pain it had ignited and the exquisite pleasure.

“I’m glad to have your attention,jeune fille. Am I boring you?”

She shook her head, catching her lower lip between her teeth to keep from crying out. Not from the pain of it, although it was there, but in her alternately wired mind, what she steeled herself against was crying out and begging him for more. More of what she hungered for, had craved to the point of desperation, and more of what had been missing from her life for so damn long.

The quirt landed once again in the same spot, pushing her closer to the edge where euphoria waited, glistening on the horizon like a beacon, leading her to the place where she was beyond pain, if that even made sense. Not only physical but where emotional and spiritual pain existed no longer. It was a state of sublime being, an incredible ecstasy as strongly compelling as the most addictive drug.

“Again, I find I am repeating myself.” This he said low in her ear as he leaned into her back. Her head fell back the next second from the tug of his hand fisting in her hair.

When she looked up into hypnotic green eyes, a dark brow above one quirked as he waited. “I asked a question, Mari.”

Nearly tongue-tied by the dominance he exuded, she felt a little tickle begin on her inner thighs as her abundant juices long since pooled in her pussy spilled over. She shifted ever so slightly, trying to gain some relief, but he had bound her spread-eagle against the cross, her thighs impossibly wide to get even a hint of relief.

Stifling a groan, she gave her breathy reply, “No, sir. I’m definitely not bored.”

His lips lowered and took hers, his tongue plunging inside, claiming every nook and cranny, every deep recess, before he let her go. With a wink he smiled. “We’ll push on then, hm?”

As he stepped back, she blinked, stunned by the kiss. He’d forgotten her limit, or had he?

Her heart raced, pounding in her chest, wanting him to come back and give her more but fearing where it would lead. Overwhelmed by her reeling emotions, yellow was on the tip of her tongue just as another stroke caused the rippling need to surge higher.

She could take more, much more. If left up to her body, she would beg him not to stop, urging him not to let up and taking what she so desperately wanted. Just a few more lashes, an inner voice bargained, or perhaps an even dozen. But another voice, one of reason, overrode all else in her mind and told her to shut it down—fast—before he moved her beyond the point of no return.

She’d gone there before. Pushing past boundaries only with her master, who she loved, trusted, and consciously surrendered herself to after years together. Whom she built her entire world around and yes, became dependent upon. To do so again with another man, a stranger she just met, was foolish, too perilous to her fragile mind, and the thin hold she maintained on her sanity. Going there again would mean submission, which she wanted, but also exposed her to abandonment, more heartache, and unbearable loneliness.

Because despite a vow to be there forever, it was a lie. It wasn’t true with her father and it hadn’t been with Derek, both taken from her in the blink of an eye, without warning, and it could be the same with another man. She couldn’t allow it to go on.

“Yellow,” she called out, as her panic built.

Immediately, the leather tails stopped their relentless motion. When his warm hand touched her back, she stiffened.

“Too much, little sub?” Rich and smooth, his voice was like velvet as he spoke close to her ear.

“Yes, sir,” she breathed, as a delightful shiver of wanting ran through her.

Fingers lightly traced over her hip, gliding down and around to her spread thighs in front. She couldn’t hide the proof of her body’s response as he dipped two broad fingers into her pussy held open for him by her bound position.

“Your body tells me otherwise. You’re drenched.” He lingered there, stroking the hard bud at the front of her slit.

“Yellow, sir,” she insisted in a choked voice.

“I’ll ease off, switch to the deerskin, I think.”

“No!” She dared to deny him with cold-edged desperation. More was not an option. At her limit now, a few more strokes would trigger the voracious need inside her.

“No more impact, sir. Please. Will you fuck me instead?”

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