Page 35 of Exquisite Temptation

"Eyes on me." I lift my head, my gaze locking with his. "Hmm. What am I going to do with you? You need to learn to listen more and keep your sassy mouth shut, little brat." He attaches the leash to my collar.

"You misquoted Oscar Wilde. As a teacher, it’s my duty to correct you, Sir." I purse my lips into a smirk.Deal with it, Big Boy. His glare of arctic intensity drops the temperature in the room by ten degrees, sending shudders through me.

"I’m not interested in your opinion, so you should keep it to yourself. You are here to obey and serve me, making yourself available on demand like the good little slut you are. Is that understood, pet?" I keep my mouth shut, rolling my eyes.

"Say that again. I didn’t hear it." He narrows his gaze and smacks my thigh, the sound of the leather hitting my skin reverberates in the air. Ouch.

"Yes, I understand, Sir." My chest rises and falls with sharp breaths, making my voice sound airy.

"That’s better. Green, all good, yellow, it's good but getting too intense, and Oklahoma, stop now." He fastens the blindfold, the blackness of the material devouring my sight and plunging me into a total darkness. With my vision gone, my sense of smell becomes sharper and my hearing amplifies.

"On your feet, my little bratty princess." Christopher yanks the leash, forcing me to hoist myself up.

His soft, earthy, frankincense scent envelops me as he attaches clamps on my taut nipples with deft fingers, adjusting the screws and increasing the throbbing with each turn. He tugs on the chain, and the clamps rise with my nipples, pulling and stretching them. I tip my head back, crying out in both pleasure and pain. Encouraged by my yelp, he yanks it again, harder this time. The fresh swell of pain courses through my tender nips and goes straight to my clit.

"You please me, pet." He rumbles, placing me over the bed with my forearms stretched out.

Time suspends in the air as I lay blindfolded and naked on the cool satin sheets with my ass in the air, completely exposed and at his mercy. Every nerve in my body tenses, becoming like a tight guitar string. I prick my ears, searching for any sound to give me a clue of his next move to quell the fluttering in my stomach.He is teasing you. Payback time for your impromptu striptease.Suddenly, he glides the leather tongue across my arms, shoulders, and back, before pausing and lifting the crop. Goosebumps erupt over my heated skin. Christopher continues his teasing by dragging the crop across my buttocks, down my thighs.

"I’m going to mark you as mine, pet." He growls with a dark promise.

"I’m yours to do whatever you please, Sir." Drawing in a deep breath, I psych myself up for the first strike.

He eases me in with slow, light swats, moving from my shoulders to my rounded bottom, to the spot under my cheeks, my legs, and up again. A flood of juices gushes from my cunt, dripping down my inner thigh. Stopping briefly, he slithers his hand between my legs.

"Mmm…you are filthy wet." A hot flush sears my cheeks as shame consumes from within at how drenched I am.

He slips his fingers inside me, stroking me deep and slow. Pleasure shoots through me at his touch. I whimper, bucking my hips against his hands, urging him to fuck me faster as I ride the near-painful edge. With no warning, he stops and takes them out. A groan of frustration squeezes past my lips at the loss of his fingers.

"You are naughty, little slut, aren’t you?" His sexy growl sends shudders up and down my spine.

"I’m your slut, Sir. Please, may I come?"

"I love hearing you beg like the good whore you are. But you need to earn it. Don’t come until I give you permission."

He darts his tongue out and licks my pussy juices from his long fingers, releasing low, guttural sounds. He is killing me slowly.

"As you wish, Sir." I let out a heavy sigh.

With renewed purpose, he resumes the swats, each wallop of the crop coming harder and faster. I clench my muscles, straining against the relentless onslaught. My breathing razors between my teeth and tears push against my lids, soaking the blindfold.Focus on your breath, I order myself. I inhale through my nose, hold for two and exhale through my mouth until endorphins flood my blood, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. The crop comes down on my shoulders, buttocks, thighs again. I let out a strangled yelp as intense heat surges through me.

"What color are you, pet?"

"Yellow, Sir. Give me a minute. I’m reaching my limit." I have a high pain tolerance, but I have never played with a crop before. Tristan preferred floggers or paddle for impact play.

"I’ll give you a break, but I’m not done with you. Do you want water or a snack?" He whispers, his warm breath tickling my face.

"No, I’m fine, Sir."

"Get on the bed and position yourself on your stomach."

"Yes, Sir." I lay on the bed in a prone position, catching my breath and returning to green. He wraps a rope around my wrists twice and ties my hands to the headboard.

"You're doing great, pet. If you can take five without using your safe word, I’ll let you orgasm. But you need to count each of them."

"Yes, Sir."

The music stops playing, plunging the playroom into silence. The evocative, haunting melody of "Oklahoma Town"reaches my ears, spiking me with adrenaline. It’s one of my favorite Winter Kills songs, and the reason why I chose it as my safe word instead of Red. But why did he pick this song? Is he playing mind games?

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