Page 92 of A Pawn in the Game
I’m bound, gagged, and completely at Luka’s mercy.
The second strike confirms the same. This one lands on the other cheek, and I have no doubt it will leave a mark.
The skin of my ass burns, sending much-needed endorphins to my brain.
“So gorgeous,” Luka coos. “But you can take more.”
I can. I know I can.
The next three strikes are in succession, each one more painful than the last. At some point, my eyes start watering. Tears make their way under the blindfold, blending with my spit on the luxurious sheets. Unrecognizable moans and hisses accompany each strike.
“This is for thinking I don’t love you,” he says, landing the hardest strike so far.
My hips jut forward, as far as they can, as my knees buckle, held together only by the shackles around my ankles.
“This is for thinking I wouldn’t run away with you.”Another strike.
The hits are excruciating now that the skin is sensitive, but his words are elating. My chest expands with air.
Punishment. Pain. It’s what I know. It’s what I get off on.
The next touch to my flesh isn’t the paddle. It’s his meaty hands kneading my ass. It hurts differently. More of a dull pain.
But then his fingers make their way to my center, and I whimper.
“Look at you. Dripping all over the expensive floors.”
His fingers slide over my pussy with ease, because he’s right—I’m soaked. The touch to my clit leaves me breathless, making me bite on the ball gag.
Fuck, I want to scream. I want to move. And, in another sense, I want just this. Whatever he gives me.
His hands are gone before another strike lands on me. My mind gets jumbled. The fear is long gone, along with any rational thought I had.
Another strike.
I feel the contact of the paddle with my skin, but the pain doesn’t register anymore. My muscles are goo, the use of them involuntary. I’m liquid, spilling across the bed. The tears are pouring from my eyes, but I don’t feel the wetness on my face.
Nothing hurts. Not my body. Not my heart. We’re twenty thousand feet in the air, but I’m flying even higher.
And just as I reach that state of transcendental bliss, Luka enters me in a long, smooth stroke.
“Mmm,” I moan behind the gag.
Every nerve ending in my body is connected to the ones in my core, singing in perfect symphony with his thrusts.
“Fuck, Sophie,” Luka mutters, his hands finding purchase on my hips.
Each stroke is heaven sent, his cock hitting just the right spot to make mefeelagain.
And all I feel is him.
Hard and thick, and so deep, I wish he’d leave marks inside of me. He fucks me just how I like it, rough and fast, bottoming out thrust after thrust. I feel his weight on my back as he leans over me to place a single gentle kiss on my shoulder blade.
The caring, loving gesture, amongst the decadence and filth, sends me over the edge.
CHAPTER 44
Luka
