Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Smarts, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
“So impolite. Where are your manners?”
Something wide and rectangular presses against my ass and then claps down harder. I shout. “Oh, you bastard.”
Another hard smack to my opposite rear cheek, but I was expecting it. He stops to give me a sip of water, and I glare at him. “Kinky fucker. Do you do this with all your victims?”
“Just you.”
“So I’m special.”
“Very.”
He steps behind me again, a monster looming behind me. Something soft falls on my face, and I rear back.
“Shhh, it’s just the blindfold.” He draws the strip of silk tight over my eyes, and the world drops away. There’s no light, no movement, not even a sense of shapes or shadows. It’s darker than night.
I’d rather endure hours of pain than have my sight taken from me this way. I bite my lip to keep from begging.
Victor shifts behind me. I tune into the slight rustle of his clothes and the soft huff of his breathing. He steps closer, his clothing brushing my back, and goosebumps run down my skin.
He runs his hands down my sides, circling the sore weals his crop left on my backside. There’s nothing for me to see or focus on except the cool, tickling trail his fingers leave on my skin. It’s soothing, inevitable. He takes time stroking down my calves, even my ankles. His touch is gentle, but I tremble, wanting to resist. To fight. He presses himself against my back, awakening the sting and, worse, an intense craving deep in my gut. He slides his hands around my front and traces light circles there. It’s sweet and sensual, and my body is confused. Is this my enemy? Or my lover?
“Stop,” I whisper. “No.”
“No?” He stills, glued to my back from nape to knee. “Not this?” His fingers ghost down the vee of my legs, towards my shaved pussy. “Or this?” The lightest touch on my folds.
I shake my head but can’t bring myself to protest.
He drops his lips to my bare shoulder. “It’s all right, little liar. But I still need to punish you for removing the blindfold.”
He steps away, and I’m filled with relief. Let him beat me, mark me, etch his rage on my skin. Just don’t make me like it or crave it.
Don’t make me cum.
“Shall I use the flogger?” Soft suede trails over my back. “The paddle? Or the crop? Shall we try something new?”
There’s no use answering. Anything I say will make it worse.
I rub my head against the leather, wishing I could dislodge the blindfold.
“Bad girl.” He grips my hair and draws my head back. I let him so as not to wrench my neck. “I’ll put you in a posture collar if you do that.”
More bondage. He’s been lenient so far. Things could be so much worse. “I won’t,” I say. “I’ll be good.”
“Yes, you will. I know just how to keep you sweet.”
He leaves and returns to fit something around my waist and legs. It feels like a harness with a wide section to cover my pussy. Some sort of chastity belt? I’m happy with anything that keeps him from playing with my pussy and giving me pleasure.
He tightens the contraption. I rise to tiptoe but can’t escape the panel pressing against me.
“How does this feel?” he asks.
The thing between my legs comes to life, vibrating right against my clit. I yelp and push upwards as if that will allow me to escape it.
“Excellent.” He steps away and spends the next interminable minutes adjusting the speed and intensity of the vibrations, finally settling on a swelling buzz that rises and falls in uneven waves. Heat fills my belly but settles at a gentle simmer. Without my vision, there’s nothing but the insistent and random stimulation between my legs. I lean against the cross, rubbing my nipples on the sturdy frame in an attempt to get a spark, a sting, something that will trigger my climax.
This is torture of the sweetest kind.
The toy buzzes as he resumes flogging me, and sensations collide until I don’t know which is which: the sting in my back, the tickling at my clit, or the tightening in my core muscles. There are no boundaries between them and the rising tide of my climax, threatening to consume me.
I angle my hips, desperate to rub against the cross. If I can push at the panel between my legs and press it closer, I can get some relief. But it’s no use. As soon as I push my pelvis forward, Victor stops the vibration.
“Naughty girl.” Victor comes to hold my hip and pat me with the paddle again. He swats me until I’m dancing from right foot to left, trying to get away. Then, he amps up the vibrator, transforming the pain to golden and perfect pressure. My clit swells, my orgasm darting just within reach—