Page 43 of Black Light: The Crossover
“Sir? Sir,” she whined, and Lukus was there, plucking at her nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “Do I need permission?”
“For what?” he asked, like a jackass, because he totally knew what she was asking, but he had nipple clamps in his hands so she checked her urge to actually say her thoughts out loud.
“Do I need permission to come, sir?”
“No, Tiff. You can come as many times as you can.” That grin was back. It was definitely a trap, and she knew somehow she’d end up crying or screaming, but with the goddamn Hitachi set to ‘stun’ and incredibly secured in position… she didn’t exactly have a choice. “Ready?”
“Can I say no?” The vicious bite of the nipple clamp on her taut bud had her hissing air through her teeth, letting the breath out on little groans because she knew another one was coming.
“I really do love when you make suggestions, baby. Do you have any more for me?” Lukus purred, plucking at the freshly applied nipple clamp just to make her squirm, which wasn’t hard with the constant vibrating tension coiling. All she managed to do was shake her head, her hips shifting as he brought the other clamp to her breast and hovered it above her waiting nipple. “If you ask me for it, I’ll give you something nice next.”
It was easy to give in when the Hitachi was putting her brain in a blender, desperate pants shortening her breaths. Tiffany nodded, and tried to put the words in the order he wanted on the first try, because she hated having to repeat it again and again. “Can I please have the other nipple clamp, Sir?”
“Mmmm, yes. You may.” Lukus let it go and the sudden, sharp bite was a new, twisted edge to the rising tide of pleasure inside her.
There was something else he’d promised, something more, but all she could manage in the moment was pressing her forehead back to the padded center of the spanking bench as her world focused down to her core.
“Such a wet girl, look at this mess.” He dragged his fingers through her folds, and she knew she was soaked, but when he tugged her a little farther back on the bench, she discovered the small puddle she’d already made atop the leather. “Going to come for me, Tiffany?”
“Yes, Sir,” she moaned, not even caring who the fuck was watching if it meant he’d put his fingers inside her or —jesusfuckingchrist— his dick. If he’d fuck her right now she’d be in heaven, but some far more rational part of her brain knew that wasn’t what was coming next. Still, begging was always a good idea with Lukus. “Please fuck me? Please, Sir?”
“Fuck you? Already?” Lukus chuckled, and the next touch between her legs was barely a trace. “No… I don’t think so.”
Tiffany whined. Pathetic, probably, but wearing a Hitachi was giving her a new appreciation for her own hands. There was no rhythm, no rise and fall, it was a constant ten. “Please, please, please…”
“Please what?”
“Anything!” she shouted, and a second later she felt the unmistakably soft falls of a leather flogger trailing up the backs of her thighs. It wasn’t exactly pleasure, and it didn’t hurt, but just that simple friction against her skin was making it harder to breathe, and think, and do anything but rock uselessly against the damn Hitachi that was doing its best to toss her headlong into an orgasm — but she needed something to nudge her over the edge and Lukus knew it. He’d made her come enough times that she had no doubt he’d planned this.
When didn’t he plan things?
A sharpsmack!from nearby had her eyes popping open again, and she caught sight of Jaxson wielding a shiny, black, plastic paddle that hissed through the air before it landed with another loud crack of skin, echoed by Emma’s whine.
Brianna would probably be all over that, but even in her current predicament there was no way in hell she was going to let Lukus catch her watchingthatimplement.
“If you want it, ask for it,” Lukus said, and for a second she worried he’d caught her watching Emma, but then the sweet falls of the flogger trailed over her back and she did want that.
“Please, Sir, can I have that? The flogger? Harder?” Babbling had to count as long as all the words were present, right?
Yesssss.
Lukus was playing nice, but she had no idea why. Picking up a steady rhythm, he painted her skin with the flogger, figure-eight massaging circles that coiled the tension under her skin while melting away the aches she hadn't even realized she felt.
Warm heat rolled up her spine, expanding out over her ribs, filling her lungs until she was breathing out every complicated thought her brain created. Lukus was emptying her out in the most perfect way.
The stage didn’t matter.
Neither did the audience.
There was only him, and her, and raw physical sensation that wouldn’t let her go no matter how high the tension built.
“Ah!” she cried out, gasping hard as the first real snap of the flogger across the backs of her thighs shoved her over the edge into that glittery, golden abyss that she’d been seeking. “Fuck, Sir, fuckfuckfuck, Lukus!”
GoddamnfuckingmotherfuckingHitachi.
Whining loudly through her teeth, the next orgasm yanked Tiffany back to earth with a cacophonous shout, her back arching, muscles tense and desperate to get away from the intense pleasure, but in the next breath there would be a brilliant stroke of stinging newness from the flogger and she’d need a breath over her skin to come.
“What’s my name when you’re cuffed to a spanking bench?” Lukus asked, punctuating the question with a harder stroke of the flogger across her ass, but all that did was send her into another breathless, shuddering release.
