Flashback by Ella Ardent Read Free Book Online Page A

of the thin chain was a sweet torment,
making them tug even more tightly on her aching nipples. Yet at the
same time, she was dripping wet, thrilled beyond belief at his
attention. The tumult filled her, then submerged her. She felt a
tear slide down her cheek.
    The Count eased away the tear with his gloved
hand, appearing for a moment to be overwhelmed. “Very good,” he
whispered and her heart filled with love for him. “Now, kiss the
crop even through your gag.” He held up the handle before her face
and Athena leaned closer to kiss it. The move stretched her arms,
made her strain to her toes, left her achingly aware of her
body.
    And thumping for more.
    She felt the hardness of the handle through
the leather gag, watched the Count’s eyes gleam as he slid it back
and forth over her mouth. Her lips tingled. Suddenly he caught his
breath and stepped back, spinning her with a touch.
    Athena was hanging in a timeless place, lost
in sensation.
    The next blow from the crop was a relief,
sending a surge of mingled pleasure and pain through her body.
There was nothing for Athena but the heat of her skin and the
hunger of her sex. The sight of the room blurred through her tears.
The rhythmic sound of the Count’s blows, the sense that her skin
was alive, the pain and the pleasure mingled to take her beyond the
moment. She ached and glowed, her body alive, her mind focused only
on the present moment. She was trembling and slick with a patina of
perspiration, out of breath and yearning for more. She hung before
him, slave to his discipline, and wanted to be nowhere else in the
world.
    It was so blessedly simple.
    She lost track of the number of blows,
although the welts burned across her hips and thighs in a most
delicious manner. The mix of strikes and strokes seduced her
completely.
    Just when she was sure she could endure this
sweet torment forever, the Count cast aside the crop and dropped to
his knees in front of her. He unclipped her ankle shackles and
lifted her knees, bracing them on his shoulders. He locked his
hands around her feet, his thumbs on her insteps, then pulled her
closer. The stroke of his thumbs nearly undid her.
    “Very good, little dove,” he whispered, his
breath hot against her puss. “Isn’t this why you called yourself
The Countess? Because you are mine?”
    Athena moaned in agreement. The Count caught
her buttocks in his hands, squeezing numerous welts. Athena gasped
just before his mouth closed over her.
    The flick of his tongue against her hot sex
nearly drove her wild. She gritted her teeth and fought against the
orgasm that threatened to break, even as the Count settled in to
devour her. She knew that if she came quickly, he would be
displeased. All defiance had been taken from her, and she knew only
to obey.
    He knew her well, understanding exactly how
to alternate his movements to build her pleasure. Athena was
certain she would explode. She was hot; she was wet; she felt as if
her skin was on fire. She was captive to the Count’s demanding
touch, but she knew that if she came he would throw her out.
    He was a drug she wanted forever. He alone
commanded her pleasure. She fought to remain silent, to hold back
her moans, to keep from letting the pleasure wash over her. She
writhed and shuddered as he mercilessly drove her onward, and just
when she was sure she could bear it no longer, he lifted his
head.
    “Now,” he murmured, the rush of his breath
intoxicating against her sex. He tightened his grip on her feet,
then drove his tongue against her clitoris. For a heartbeat, Athena
feared she’d held back too long and wouldn’t be able to come on
command, then the Count pinched one of the new welts rising on her
butt.
    Hard. The surge of mingled pain and pleasure
drove her over the edge. It reminded her of secrets and forbidden
pleasures, of nights awakening in her room as the Count tied her
down to her bed, of days when she pinched the welts hidden beneath
her skirt at school at his