Anna's Contract by Deva Long Read Free Book Online Page B

areas kissed by its sharp caress bright red, but did not break her skin. No blood flowed. Choking against the strap around her neck, she dropped her head.
    Reading her mind, Caden said, “This is just the start, dear. I don’t want to damage you. This little toy—,” He slashed between her legs. “—feels like a burning flame, but it doesn’t usually cut skin. This lash is designed for training valuable show horses, after all. Can’t leave thoroughbreds all welted and bruised.”
    What? Would he leave her welted and bruised?
    Anna opened her mouth to yell she quit, but just then, he moved his attentions from her thighs to her breasts.
    All she could do then was scream.
    She struggled to get her eyes back on his whip.
    Where will he strike next?
    With her arms bent back and her torso thrust upward by the ottoman, her breasts formed shaking mounds at the highest part of her bowed body.
    Caden Morning whirled the whip’s tail over her nipples, striking first one then the other too quickly for her to guess where the evil tip would flail next. According to her nerves, her precious nubs were being ground off by some diabolical sandpaper.
    But with the magic of the single-tail, her nubbins stood ever harder and rounder under the assault. The pain drew blood into them, rushing to staunch what her nerves read to be a bloody and gaping wound. Yet, this evil whip tortured without making any cuts in her membranes, and her blood stayed where it ended up, swelling her nips like balloons, ever more sensitive and able to register increased sensation, and sending her mind reeling further into an animalistic fog of pain and lust.
    The damn neck-strap stole her air and she dropped her head back down, choking out a wail. She couldn’t even form words at this point, just release an inarticulate keening wail with no more depth of language than a dog’s bark or a cat’s meow.
    A sudden harder and deeper pain between her breasts made her struggle to raise her head again.
    “May I re-introduce the crop?” He held it so she could see the long black handle and vicious little slapper. He slashed the device through the air a few times, making an appalling whistle of impending doom.
    Caden slashed her with the crop again and again, and each time, it released a solid, sharp ball of pain where it struck.
    Then he touched her nipple with the cowhide tip. Choking, she let her head drop, which arched her swollen nubbin higher, making a juicy target for Caden’s aim.
    Quickly, Caden Morning took the opportunity. He flailed the whip in rapid-fire mode, striking like a machine-gun. Anna’s chest felt like nails were being driven into her with each blow, alternating between her left nubbin and her right. The pain crested like a fountain, and at apex peak, her hurt changed into pleasure.
    Anna’s mind reached her limit for enduring inescapable suffering. Endorphins flooded her body and transformed the sharp pain into something like the heat of a bonfire on a cool day. She found herself leaning up for the strokes of the crop. He stopped then and for an instant, she missed the steady burning, until all the new pains of her tortured flesh, lesser and lighter, but biting all the same, reasserted themselves in the absence of the steady hand behind the crop.
    While he whips me, my endorphins convert the sudden pain into pleasure. But when he stops, the ache of the previous strikes takes over.
    The residual burn from the single tail, her muscles complaining about her backward stretched position, her wrists and ankles and neck irritated by the rough straps, and her throat from her pushing against the nylon strap that cut off her breath when she tried to raise her head, these all had their say in the general audit of her suffering. When he struck her, all her pain transitioned into a solid tower of pleasure, building taller toward an inevitable climatic collapse.
    “Hit me. Whip me. Keep going. Don’t stop.”
    With a lustful smile, Caden started the