breathed.
Lean over the chair. Rest your body on the cushion.”
Kneeling, she leaned facedown across the cushion of the overstuffed chair. Her nipples tingled against the fabric. Her arms, bound by Mark’s belt, were stiff behind her.
Now she was utterly exposed, vulnerable. She’d given herself over to him, given him that authority. Why was it so freeing to be so helpless? What was it about Mark that made her want to give him this? Give him everything?
He’ll be gone in the morning.
She pushed the thought away. The fact that he would be leaving just made her more determined to take advantage of every second, to experience this night with him as intensely as possible.
Something dark fell over her eyes, blinding her. She inhaled the now-familiar scent that made her knees weak. Mark’s shirt. He was using his shirt to blindfold her.
“Oh, God.” The sensation was killing her. She couldn’t see; she couldn’t move. She could just smell him, hear him…
“How are you doing, darling Ruby?” he asked.
“Never better.” She tried to sound droll, but her voice trembled, giving her away. “Fuck it. Please, Mark. I need…” She had to feel him. She couldn’t feel enough.
“What do you need, Ruby? Tell me.”
“You. I need to feel you. On me, inside me.”
“Oh, but I think you need something else. I think you need a little more sensation than a cock filling you up.”
His graphic language set her sex on fire. He seemed to layer her pleasure, much as he’d layered his music during the show.
He took the bristles again, ran them over her ass and upper back, across the backs of her thighs, until she was trembling again. Until she was raw.
It was never like this before. Being bound by Ash seemed so incomplete in comparison; this was what she’d been craving. Mark had every nerve in her body alive, made every sensation amplified.
Now he used the brush with a heavier touch. She squeezed her eyes shut as he scoured her skin. Her body shook from needing him, needing him to strike her. She could feel her own endorphins kicking in, turning the pain to pleasure, but she wanted more. Wanted something harder.
“You like that, Ruby, don’t you? I can feel you trembling. But you know I’m just preparing you because you know the first slap won’t be gentle.”
Good. She didn’t want it to be. She had no idea how she knew that, but she was very certain that she did not want a gentle hand. She wanted to feel. She wanted to feel everything .
With the back of the brush, he struck her with a stunning precision that thrilled her very core. Sharp pain singed the entire right side of her ass. Still, she did not cry out. Instead she begged. “Please—”
“Sshh.”
She bit her lip.
The next slap was harder and hurt. Hurt so much she couldn’t keep her voice inside.
He slapped her again, with more force.
“Fuck!” Her entire body responded in a rush of bittersweet pleasure.
“Do you want more?”
“Oh, God—”
The back of the brush stung her again; the slapping sound resonated in her small apartment, drowning out the soft jazz.
“Ask for more.”
“Please, more—” She screamed, her body twisting, writhing.
He obliged. Beautiful pain ripped through her; her pussy throbbed from it, her mind reeled from it. And each time he struck her ass she inhaled him again, thankful for the shirt he’d used as a blindfold. Her senses were limited to scent and pain and sound, and just when she was going to come from it all, he stopped.
“Please, more…” She was begging. Begging him.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson.” His voice sounded dark and gravelly, hoarse. She rubbed her crotch against the edge of the chair, hoping for even the tiniest bit of friction of release.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He yanked her hips back and tugged down her panties until the elastic stretched just above her knees. The air chilled her wet pussy but then he was there, his warm tongue licking her, exploring every
Daniela Fischerova, Neil Bermel