Page 21 of A Season for Christmas

“I hurt you yesterday, and you liked it.” She ran her hand down his back, over his muscles, to his arse and gave it a sharp, stinging smack that made him jerk—more in surprise than in pain. Almost as soon as she’d smacked him, her hand returned, rubbing the spot she’d injured and sending a wave of heat through him. His cock jerked.

Samuel opened his mouth to retort, then closed it.

The truth was, the swat she had just given him had not hurt all that much, and his cock had clearly responded, though he was unsure if it was due to the swat or the way she soothed the spot. The lingering sting did not feel bad. And she had hurt him yesterday. With her nails. With the way she’d tugged on his sack. When she’d made him hold back his release.

One way or another, those things had all hurt… yet he’d also enjoyed them.

So, maybe the flogging would be the same. Painful in some regards and enjoyable in others. Yesterday, some of that pain had even enhanced his pleasure, almost as though giving his body a comparison point had made the pleasure even greater.

“I think I see,” he said after a moment, making her laugh again.

“In a moment, you willfeel. If you want me to stop at any time, say stop. Eventually, I may give you a word like ‘marmalade’ or have you choose a word to use when you want me to stop, but for this time, ‘stop’ or ‘no’ will be sufficient.”

“Marmalade?” Samuel’s voice rose in confusion. His head turned, though in his current position, he could not twist far enough around to actually look at her. Was she bamming him? But she sounded perfectly serious…

“A word you would not normally say in this setting, yes? So, if you said it, I would know you were asking me to stop.”

“Why would I not say ‘stop’ to ask you to stop?” It made no sense. Why choose another word?

Again, Catherine laughed softly, but for some reason, this time, it made the small hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Some instinct heard that laugh and said…danger.

Her hand ran over his back again, down over his ass, then she reached between his legs and gripped his sack. Samuel sucked in a breath. She was not holding him gently.

“Because sometimes, you might say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ but not truly mean it. Sometimes, I will want to push your limits, and you might not be able to stop yourself from begging. You might even enjoy begging me to stop.” Her grip tightened, and she tugged, making him groan and go up on his toes as the ache spread through his lower back. His movement only increased the erotic agony, though it was instinct to try to pull away because she did not let go.

Bloody hell.

This time, when she tugged, his feet fell back down to remain flat on the floor. His jaw was locked against any words escaping him, but he now understood what she meant. The word “stop” wanted to explode from his mouth because it did hurt… but at the same time, deep down, he did not truly want her to stop. It was not hurting so much that he could not take it, yet the idea of telling her to stop and having her keep going appealed on a level he found slightly disturbing.

On the other hand, he was not sure he could say marmalade with a straight face while she had his balls in her hand, so they were going to have to choose another word.

Her hand pulled, gripping and rolling his balls between her fingers.

“Catherine…” His voice had a desperate edge to it as he said her name.Stop. Please do not stop.He was not sure which he wanted more.

Laughing softly, she released him, and his body relaxed, shoulders slumping in a way he had not been able to make himself do before.

“If you want me to stop, say stop,” she said again, patting his shoulder before he heard her step back away from him.

His muscles were just starting to tense again when the flogger landed against his upper back.

That… did not hurt at all. Not really.

It felt like a lot of tiny blows coming down on his skin, tapping against it, enough to sting but not enough to register as true pain. The flogger came down again, the thin lengths of leathering pattering against his skin, and he rolled his shoulders as the sensations ran through him.

He liked it.

A lot.

Dropping his head down, Samuel groaned, giving himself over to the flogging. It was almost hypnotic, both the sound and the sensations, like the patter of steady rainfall but without the cold and the wet. Yet, as relaxing as it was, one particular part of him stood, very much not relaxed.

His cock stood at attention, eager and aching as the leather fell over his shoulders and then moved to his buttocks. Rocking up on his toes, he thrust into the air, groaning again as his arousal pummeled him harder than the flogger.

Fuck.

Now, he wanted to go punch Kent in the face.

No wonder the man had let her do this to him.

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