Page 595 of Hell Hath No Fury
I tuck my chin farther into my chest. “No.”
“No, what?” he bites out, slapping a palm against my naked ass.
“No, sir,” I amend. A fine sheen of sweat coats my skin and tremors dance beneath.
His voice is a deep rumble in his chest. “I think you need a reminder.”
I tuck my fingers around the material extending from my bound wrists for extra grip. Metal scrapes against wood, followed by soft, measured footsteps. Heat touches my foot, the firm grip of his tapered fingers. He positions a thick band around the top of my foot and buckles it down to one of the latches fixed on the floor. After he does the same to the other, he checks to make sure neither are too tight and when he’s done, I’m well and truly at his mercy, unable to move.
He pats my thigh and says, “Tell me if you experience any discomfort or strain.” When I don’t answer he gives my ass a little slap, and I say, “Yes, sir.”
I hear him walk away again and retrieve something from the table, my mind goes wild imagining what it can be, how the people on the other side are reacting, but more than anything, it’s the not knowing that causes perspiration to build and my muscles to quiver.
His warmth reaches my back first, then his arms wrap around my waist. A thin cloth belt wraps around my hips and they jerk back a little at the contact, brushing against his jeans-clad legs. He situates the belt around and between my legs, buckling it on the side when it fits to his satisfaction. Then he clicks a smooth piece to the front, and my stomach drops. The slim bullet fits into a pocket in the crotch of the panties and presses intimately against my sex.
Tossing my head back, I almost wish I had a gag to swallow my responses. He’s barely started, and I already want to scream out my frustration.
“Shh,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. “We’re just getting started.”
There’s a click and a buzzing fills the air. I jerk, trying to get away from the unrelenting pressure, but with my legs and arms restrained and barely any give in the line, there’s nowhere for me to hide.
Which is, no doubt, exactly what he has in mind.
A hand wraps around my throat, arching my back against his chest. His voice is a gentle threat above the hum of vibrations. “You may not come until I say so, girl.”
That’s an impossibility.
Already, the first sparks of an orgasm bloom low in my abdomen. My legs are shaking with the effort to hide from the non-stop stimulation, but no matter how far I strain, I can’t getaway. I’m so distracted by the sensations and concentration on not coming, that when a whoosh splits the air and a stinging slices across the cheeks of my ass, a scream tears from my throat.
It’s a never-ending cycle of pleasure and pain.
He releases a stream of alternating soft and hard strikes, first across the meat of my ass and then at the crease where my ass meets my legs. The shock sends me arching into the vibrating bullet and then the cycle starts all over again.
The rising crescendo of pleasure is punctuated by his gruff commands and the ever-looming threat of the audience watching just on the other side of the glass wall. I hover on the edge for an interminable amount of time, struggling to obey his command, but wanting to give in, wanting to give in so bad, tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
His hands soothe, even as the flogger’s sting turns my backside nearly numb. He alternates directions, amount of pressure, massaging away the bite only to strike again just when sensation returns.
I hear a thud, then feel the flogger roll to a stop by my bare feet. By now, I’ve given up trying to control my breathing, my sobs, and my chest is heaving, stomach contracting. His hands dance along my backside, then climb up my ribs and up to cup and lift my bared breasts. He scissors my nipples between his fingers, tweaking and tugging until I’m mindless with it. I hear a woman sobbing and it gives me pause until I realize the woman….is me.
“Please, please, please, sir. Can I come? I need to come.”
He tweaks my nipples again, and I’m afraid I nearly come undone. I hover there on the precipice until he nibbles my shoulder and says, ever so softly, “Come, girl.”
* * *
“When can I see you again?” he asks.
The audience is gone, no doubt having left after a subtle signal from my companion as I was coming down from my orgasm-induced high. He immediately clicked off the bullet and carefully released my feet and arms from the restraints. Now he holds me in his arms, still blindfolded, as he gives me a thorough rubdown that’s as much to return circulation to my limbs as it is to ground me.
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “I’ve got some things going on in my personal life and I’m not sure if it will leave much time for me in the next few weeks.”
“Shame,” he murmurs.
Leaning against his firm chest with drowsiness creeping around the edges, I yawn, feeling warm, and safe, and right at home. “What’s a shame?” I slur.
“I haven’t been to The Sanctum in a long time. It’s just a shame we won’t get to spend more time together. Unless I’m mistaken and you didn’t enjoy tonight.”
“No, I did,” I rush to correct him. “Very much. In case you didn’t notice.”
