He gathered her hair and moved it forward over her shoulder. Baring her back. She tensed, but he only ran his hands up and down, waking her skin, making her breasts sway.
He slapped her bottom lightly, a tiny sting, then harder, and more, until she wanted to move away from the burning. She arched away—uselessly.
“Sí, I like knowing you have to stay put to take what I give you,” he murmured and walked around to face her, his hand always on her, stroking from her back to her shoulder. Her bottom burned, and her skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the sea breeze felt like an icy kiss.
His lips brushed hers. Then he captured her mouth with hungry urgency. “I’ve missed kissing you. So…you will tell me if the pain becomes too much, no? What is your safe word?”
“Cramp.”
“Very good.” His grin flashed at her. “Which will make you scream first, gatita—the sting of the lash or the fury of your orgasm?”
Oh boy, how could he terrify her and turn her on at the same time? Sensuality darkened his face as he regarded her, not hiding the pleasure he got from playing with her. Not hiding his intention to exercise his power as her master.
I can’t believe I’m here. Doing this…wanting this. Yet the more she surrendered, the more she felt a part of him.
He knew. He touched her cheek, his gaze softening.
She stared at him helplessly, bound with more than physical restraints.
The flogger he used next didn’t hurt. Like a million elves drumming on her skin, the strands of the flogger moved from her back to her front.
She stared at him, almost mesmerized. So big, shoulders broad, his chest and arm muscles rippled with each movement. His control was absolute, his focus totally on her and the flogger as if it connected them like an umbilical cord.
He lightened the strokes over her stomach and thighs, even lighter over her breasts, making them swell and throb. The very lightest flick between her legs sent her up onto her toes with surprise, followed by a hot rush of pleasure.
He saw, and a smile softened his stern features. As he circled her, her skin grew more sensitive, started to burn. And somehow her pussy throbbed as if it had swollen too much.
A pause. His hands stroked her body, soothing the ache. He moved in front of her and studied her for a silent moment. Then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You are very beautiful, all aroused and ready for the bite of the lash.” His palms covered her breasts, and he watched her intently as he pinched her nipples lightly, then harder, rolling the peaks between his fingers.
She closed her eyes as pleasure washed through her.
“Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open, stiffening as his hand moved to her pussy, sliding through her folds. The streak of sharp pleasure was almost painful, unexpected, and she made a protesting sound.
“Shhh, gatita. You want this—there is no shame in it, in being a woman. In letting your master rouse your body.” He smiled, fingers pushing intimately inside her, then out and over her clit. Over and in, repeating until her hips pressed forward into each movement.
Oh God, I need more. She hadn’t dreamed she could get so hot, so needy.
Then he smiled. “Very good. You’re ready.” His gaze was level, direct, utterly in control and confident.
And she nodded. She could handle pain if he was in charge.
He kissed her slowly and then ravenously. “Sumisita mía,” he said, tipping her chin up. “After this, I intend to take you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Hard.”
Her vagina clenched. As her gaze dropped to his groin, delight rose inside her. “As Master wishes.”
“Yes, my gatita’s submission—and body—makes me needy.” He touched his nose to hers, took in her breath. “I’ve missed taking you every morning before breakfast.”
She closed her eyes and breathed, “Me too.” Waking alone, wanting him so much she’d slept with an extra pillow to have something to hold.
He pressed another kiss to her lips, then walked away. A second later, she heard the crack of a whip.
Panic rolled over her, drowning her in memories. Slicing pain after pain, screaming. She pulled frantically at the chains, her breathing a tropical storm turning into a hurricane.
“Kimberly.” His voice cut through the winds. “You will take this for me.”
Silence grew around her, the fears held at bay with just his voice…and her need to please him. Master R, not Greville. Master R would stop if she needed him to…and so she could go on. “Yes, Master. I will.”
The first touch of the whip was a flicker: here, there, up, and down. A little sting, the rhythm almost soothing. A brush over her skin like a rough kiss. More. She’d never watched whipping scenes. Who knew it could be so…sensuous?
After a while, he walked forward to rub her back. Played with her breasts, sending new sparks of arousal flickering through her body. His erection pressed into her from behind, and he ground it against her bottom, making her feel the lingering burn from her spanking. His fist closed in her hair, tugging her head to the side. His voice was low and ruthless, sending a thrill through her. “Now, I’m going to push you, Kimberly. And you will take it—for me.”
He obviously felt her shiver; his laugh was guttural. Terrifying. Hot. He moved away, but she could hear him. “That’s my good girl.”
A crack, a tiny whoosh, then the sting, pain blooming beneath her skin. She gasped, a little shocked. That hurt. He kept on, over and over, like the bite of flame from the fireplay, the whip was a flash of pain that almost seemed to light her up inside.
Down her ass, a few touches on her thighs that zapped straight to her clit until—oh, God, she was shaking with the need to come.
The intensity increased. More. Sharper. She sucked in her breath to keep from yelling. He eased off to the sweet brushing strokes. Harder again. Stinging, shocking, burning…pain.
Nothing moved, but she fell backward, tumbling into the ocean, surrounded by softness. Her eyes half-focused on the tide rolling in on the white shore, and she realized his strokes were timed to the ocean waves. The pain hit and rolled over her, flowing back out before the next one. So wonderful yet so arousing. The whip strokes slowly moved down her ass, her thighs, and back up.
His body was against hers again, warm, holding her.
“Eyes on me,” he said, turning her head. Brown gaze, calm and wonderful.
She smiled at him and savored his grin.
“Look at you. Even under a whip, you trusted me enough to hit subspace,” he murmured, kissing her until the ground disappeared from under her. “I’m very proud of you, gatita.” He pulled back. “Tell me your safe word.”
“Cramp. Only I don’t need it,” she confided.
His eyes crinkled. “I’m going to give you five more, and they will hurt.”
A worry started to rise in her. She heard the sharp crack behind her, but nothing hit.
“Take a breath, gatita.” Firm. Her master.
An orgasm seemed to be floating inside, waiting, as she inhaled.
“Let it out.”
She breathed out and heard a crack and razor-sharp pain shot across her right buttock. She sucked in a breath, feeling her body jerk, and as she exhaled, another line of fire hit. Yet it was Master R doing it, expecting her to handle it, making her take it, and that sent her even deeper. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Another razor cut of pain jolted her to her core and another— white-hot pain—and another.
Through the surging of the blood in her head, she heard his footsteps. His arms surrounded her, pulled her into his warmth. “I’m so proud of you. You have pleased me very much,” he murmured into her hair.
She blinked at him. “I will take more if you need me to, Master.”
He frowned. “Do you want more?”
“No. But if you—”
“No, gatita. You’re not a masochist.” He kissed her cheek. “For which I am very happy. You have had enough.”
She sighed, still half in t
he clouds, and when he kissed her long and slow, her whole body reminded her of what she wanted. “Can we go somewhere and…?”
His head lifted, brown eyes keen. Hot.
“And make love,” she finished. It would be love. She knew that.
His grin flashed. “Are you saying, ‘Just fuck me already?’”
She choked, but the throbbing of her lower half wouldn’t be denied. “Yes, Master. If Master pleases.”
“Oh, that will please Master,” he said, gripping her hair. “But we aren’t going inside, Kimberly.”
Out here? Her eyes rounded.
Laughing softly, he unsnapped the chains holding her legs apart and then reached up to the panic snaps above. Two clicks, and she was free. She groaned as she lowered her arms, her shoulders aching. Her knees wobbling.
He picked her up, snuggling her against his bare chest. His clean, masculine scent surrounded her, musky from the exercise, making her want to rub her skin over his. She felt small in his arms, delicate and cherished.
He crossed the patio and sat her on the unused wooden table. “Lie on your back, sumisa,” he said and folded his arms over his chest.
Even though sweat covered her body, she felt the flush rising in her face.
When he lifted his eyebrows slightly, she knew she didn’t want to let him down. Never. She lay back.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured, the heat in his eyes scorching across her skin. “When we met, you preferred pain to sharing the intimacy of your orgasm in front of others,” he said, running his hands over her breasts. “Will you offer it to me now?”
Make love here? In front of…everyone?
His eyes held hers. Demanding…more. That she surrender everything. And she wanted to. “I will do whatever Master wants,” she said. “Yes.”
His gaze softened. “You took pain for me, Kimberly,” he said soberly. “Now can you take being restrained—and then pleasure?”
Shivers ran over her body. “Yes, Master.”
His hand stroked over her leg, warming her flesh for a moment. Then he pushed her legs against her chest and slid her down the table until her bottom was just over the edge. A tremor ran through her. The drifty feeling hadn’t quite disappeared, but she rapidly returned to the real world as he hooked her wrist cuffs to the edges of the table even with her waist. He moved her left leg so he could clip the ankle cuff to her wrist cuff and did the same on her right, spreading her legs widely.
Her pussy was exposed. Very exposed. He stood back as she conquered the first shudder of fear. She stared at him, using him as her anchor, knowing he’d keep her safe.
His broad hands ran over her body. “I’ve missed having a little submissive bound and open before me,” he said softly. His knuckles trailed down her cheek. “To have one that loves me and tries so hard to please me is an even better feeling.”
Everything inside her melted.
“But this is a test for you. Will you yield me everything?” He unhooked a wide canvas strap from under the table and pulled it across her low stomach, just above her mound. “Even when I take the last few bits of movement from you?” He secured it tightly, pinning her hips against the smooth table.
“Yes, Master.” She tried not to wiggle, to test the restraints, and couldn’t help herself. But her hips wouldn’t move at all. Panic rose and fell like the tide.
“And a test for me as well. Do I trust your surrender enough that I will push you as I should and give us both what we need?” The ruthless determination in his gaze shook her to the core. “I trust you more than I thought I could. Are you all right, gatita?”
Fear didn’t stand a chance next to Raoul Sandoval, her master. She smiled at him.
“Beautiful Kimberly.” He leaned an arm on the table, filling her vision.
His lips brushed over hers, and he kissed her, severing the current of fear, replacing it with need. His warm hand closed over her breast, cupping it, teasing the nipple to a point even as he stroked his tongue over hers, as he reminded her of his taste, his scent, his possession.
“Mmm.” He lifted his head and smiled, whispering, “You look like you need to be fucked, sumisa.”
And everybody probably saw that. She glared at him and earned a pinch on her nipple that made her gasp. Her breasts were swollen, as if they’d grown a cup size, leaving the skin too tight. Her nipples throbbed, and she could feel the odd stings from where he’d lashed her lightly. He bent down and licked over each nipple, circling them, leaving them wet so the breeze cooled them, tightening them further.
More. Her back arched.
“Too much movement.” Straps went across her, above and below her breasts, constricting everything between until the mounds were pushed up tightly.
And she really couldn’t move.
“Sí, I like that.” He smiled and closed his big hands over her aching breasts, fondling with calloused palms and pinching her nipples lightly. Her clit started throbbing to match the ache in her breasts.
She wanted to beg for more and knew he’d just laugh and do whatever he wanted in his own time. God, why did being naked and exposed, restrained and unable to stop him, make her so, so hot?
He stepped back, regarding her…as if considering all the dirty, dark things he could do to her. Her insides clenched with desire.
What would he do? His hands? Mouth? Toys? But she hadn’t fetched up any plugs or clamps or… Her breath stopped as he walked out of sight. I brought him a crop.
Oh no. No no no.
Master R strolled back into her field of vision, tapping the long, thin rod on his palm. Oh God, he was going to. Her breasts were pointing up like two targets, her legs wide, her labia gaping open. He wouldn’t…would he? She felt the trickle of her own moisture from her pussy down to her asshole.
“Look at that,” he said softly. He rubbed the crop’s leather flap over her breasts, teasing her nipples. “All excited. Not a hint of fear in you.”
She realized it was true. The anticipation of pain seemed to just turn her on further.
“I was watching when Jessica told you about how Z restrained her on the Shadowlands bar.” The crop trailed down her stomach, flickered over her labia.
Oh God. Just the touch of it, the teasing. She felt swollen, tight. Desperate.
His fingers followed the leather. The contrast between cool and warm, smooth and rough, inanimate and alive, made her body pulse with need.
At the foot of the table, he smiled slightly as he traced her folds with one finger, up and over her clit. Deliberately, mercilessly increasing her arousal.
He pushed a finger into her, sliding easily, his thick knuckles adding to the swelling sensation. Two fingers, and his tongue licked over her clit, bringing her higher. Her thighs quivered as she tried to raise her pussy higher, to get more. Nothing—absolutely nothing— moved. She was pinned, completely immobile.
Master R pulled his fingers out of her vagina slowly and ran his slick hand over her leg. “She told you how he used a whip on her pussy.”
He hit her inner thigh with the crop—the very tip of the leather flap. The sting made her gasp.
“I saw how much it excited you, gatita. To think of having your pussy whipped.” The crop made its way up the inside of her thigh to the top of her mound. Each flick of the leather against her skin stung.
Her entire body tensed in anticipation of that small pain landing on her throbbing clit, but he continued up, hitting her lightly across her stomach.
She jumped when the crop hit the underside of her right breast. He circled, once, twice, around her breast. It was so tight, each sting reverberated through the whole mound. Her breathing was like a boat tossing in the waves, finding and losing its rhythm.
He stroked her hair away from her face, studying her carefully, his eyes intent and hot…very hot. Without speaking, he moved to her left breast. Around and around. How could they possibly feel tighter? she wondered, hearing a low whine escape her.
“Yes, give me the sounds.” T
he leather flicked sharply over her peaked left nipple.
The sudden sting bit like sharp teeth into the sensitive tip and felt as if he’d also struck her clit. “Ah!” Her spine tried to arch; her hands jerked; nothing moved. The feeling of being trapped passing into complete heat as he flicked her right nipple.
Back and forth, leaving only enough time for the bite of pain to dissipate before hitting the other nipple. Her breasts felt as if they were on fire yet so very, very swollen and needy.
He bent and pulled a peak into his mouth, gentle lips, heat, but when he sucked, pulling strongly, her whole body shook like a leaf. Oh God.
As he changed to the other nipple, hot, sucking, her insides started to coil, pressure building inside.
His brown eyes met hers as he lifted his head. “You’re very close to coming, gatita.”
She swallowed, wanting to beg. Please, please, now. He wouldn’t, she knew. The knowledge that he had control, everything was up to him, and she could do nothing about it increased her need as if someone had opened her motor to full throttle, sending excitement humming through her.
He trailed his hand down her body, soothing the little bites the crop had left over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs.
The crop smacked her thigh again. Slightly harder, like a kitten with sharp milk teeth. Up toward her pussy, over her mound, down her leg. Aching. She could feel her engorged clit trying to extend, trying for attention, and she shuddered with fearful anticipation.
Up her leg again, only this time, the flicks hit her outer labia. Pinpricks of pain, up and down her newly shaved, tender flesh, each time closer to the apex. To her clit.
Her breath hitched as he almost…
The crop lifted. Everything inside her tightened. Her inner folds were swollen, wet, as a cool breeze washed over her. Her vulnerable clit pulsed, filling her world. She stared at the crop, in the air, as her muscles pulled against the restraints.
His eyes met hers.
The crop hit directly on her clit. Pain. Pleasure. The sensations mixed, raw and brutal, exploding up and out. Her body tried to shake itself free as the waves of pleasure ripped through her. The scream turned to gasping wails as her pussy contracted over and over.
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