Page 92 of The Forbidden Trio

Before she had a chance to process what he was saying, he smacked her thighs with a cat-o’-nine-tails with metal beads on the tips. The pain was sharp, and it was as if her brain couldn’t help but zero in on every single point of contact. The tiny metal beads were like buckshot against her skin, and it was all she could do to take in the pain. He was moving so quickly, so relentlessly, she didn’t have time to ride out the sensation, to process it before the next strike, then the next and the next. The moment she knew she was going to overload, he stopped and ran his smooth palm over the sore spots.

“Take a breath. Good girl. Now, are we green, baby?”

She had to wait a moment before she could catch her breath enough to speak.

“Yes,” she panted. “Green.”

“Very good.”

He moved to the bottom of the bed and, using a few carabiners, he managed to shorten the chains on her ankles so the lower half of her body lifted off the mattress. He clipped another set of carabiners to the chains, shortening them and raising her body up even more, so that her shoulders rested on the mattress, but the rest of her body was lifted high off the bed. Then he went to work right away with the wicked cat-o-nine on her ass. This time he kept to a rhythm, building slowly, and she was able to sink into the cadence, her body releasing more endorphins, until she felt as if she were floating.

“Doing good baby? Give me your color,” he demanded.

“Green. So green.”

“Good girl,” he said before plunging two fingers into her aching pussy.

“Oh!”

She was so wet they slid in easily, but it was still a shock, and she nearly came, her sex clenching.

“Oh, no you don’t. Your come ismine, baby girl. Do you understand? You hold it back no matter what I do, until I tell you to give it to me.”

She drew in a short, panting breath. “Yes, Sir.”

He kept his fingers deep inside her, not moving them as he began to slap her with the cat-o’-nine again. It struck her ass, the back of her thighs, and this time the smacks were hard and fast and relentless. And soon he was pressing his fingers deeper into her pussy, pumping, pumping, then moving even more roughly, his fingers curved against her g-spot. It was too much, sensation overload, and she moaned, then gave a long, low growl as she squirted all over his hand.

“Good girl, yes. Keep going,” he ordered, his fingers thrusting, working her pussy hard.

Then—and he must have dropped the cat—he pinched her clit with his other hand and told her, “Come for me, baby. Give it all to me.”

Her body twisted as she came, her orgasm a stabbing wave of pure pleasure. And she was coming and squirting and crying, the tears running down her cheeks.

“Ah… Ah! God! Max! Ahhhhhhh… fuck!”

“Yeah, baby, beautiful,” he encouraged her, still pumping into her, still rubbing her clit.

Another climax followed the first almost immediately, and it was so intense she lost all sense of time, of her own body, of anything but that focal point where his hand was inside her, forcing her to do this, making her his completely.

Finally, the sharpness of sensation subsided enough for her to come back to earth, and she realized his fingers were still inside her, that her body was soaked from her own squirting: her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her back. And she smiled because she knew it would please him.

“Christ you are amazing, baby. So, so good. I’m going to lower you now.”

He withdrew his fingers from her still-clenching pussy, and soon she was lying flat on the bed once more, her ankles freed. The bed beneath her was wet, but she didn’t care.

Max left her wrists cuffed as he leaned over her and kissed her face: her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. Then, nuzzling her, he murmured, “Things are going to get a little rough now.”

“Mmm, yes, please, Sir.”

She heard some metallic clanking, then his arm was around her waist and he sat her up, moving her in his strong arms until she was kneeling up on the bed with her cuffed wrists raised overhead. She realized vaguely that the chains must be on some sort of pulley system she hadn’t noticed. But she was too high on pain and pleasure to care.

Max held a bottle of water to her lips. “Drink.”

She obeyed, and the water was cool going down her throat.

Then he was right next to her again, one hand clasped at the back of her neck, a sensation of ownership and command she’d always loved.

“I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed, Aster. I’m not going to blindfold you unless I have to.”

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