Roulette Redux

by Livia Grant

  “They’re waiting to see how loud I make you scream,” he whispered against her ear, nipping the lobe. “Seems you’re not the only one who’s aware of my reputation. Now, what do you say?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She ground out the words as he wound her hair into a loop at the back of her head so that it wouldn’t cover her shoulders.

  “Then I don’t think we should disappoint them. If you’re thinking of safewording, say yellow. I don’t want our fun to end too soon.” Silas picked up the first flogger, stroking along the thick leather straps.

  “It won’t be a problem, Sir. I’m into pain, and you don’t scare me.”

  Adjusting his grip on the flogger he shook it out and moved to the right position. “Just remember to shout yellow before you tap out completely.”

  Chapter 3

  Clenching her fists, Bianca closed her eyes to the people that stood near the platform, preparing for the first blow, and then it hit. Heavy, hard, right across her ass, and she jolted forward into the cross with a gasp.

  Silas wasn’t fucking around though, because the next landed just a little below, and it resembled the thudding swat of a paddle. He’d picked probably the heaviest flogger Black Light had, and as he moved to her thighs she flinched at the dull sting — but she kept her mouth shut. No cries, not for this.

  The sounds of other women crying out, some in pain and some in pleasure, met her ears, but she had no plans on joining them any time soon. Silas was either going to rise to the occasion, or fizzle out like so many before him.

  Still, heat was building in her skin, the places where the flogger overlaid stung a little more, and she was sure he was turning her flesh pink. When he switched to her shoulders she grunted, the weight of the blow almost knocking the air out of her lungs. Back and forth, weaving the thudding falls left to right, right to left, down to her mid back. Then he stopped, and she caught onto her loud breaths.

  Shifting in the cuffs, she turned her head to see him leaned down, but what he was grabbing was directly behind her, near the stairs, and she couldn’t tell what he picked up.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, deadpan, and she laughed softly.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” The word was barely out of his mouth when fire lanced across her ass, the yelp was past her lips before she could stop it, and then another brutal swat hit the other cheek. Thinner falls, sharper sting, and he wasn’t holding back.

  Clenching her teeth, she bit back the yelps as he landed lash after lash on her ass, then moved lower, a crippling strike landing at the very top of her thighs. Pain bloomed from the point, spreading, and she cried out, mouth open as he repeated it on her thighs.

  FUCK!

  Bianca pressed her nails into her palms, digging in until the bite of it gave her something to focus on other than the burning pain that landed again and again. The first stinging strike on her shoulders brought tears to her eyes, and she cursed under her breath and jerked at the cuffs on instinct. Trying to escape, to pull away, but there was no running from this, or from him.

  “You know,” he spoke as she whined. “I love how floggers can be gentle, or brutal… Tell me, did you think I was going to be gentle with you after all that mouthing off, Bianca?”

  “No, Sir,” she answered, biting her cheek to suppress the sounds he’d forced from her. Her backside was alight with stripes of stinging fire, still painful as her ribs expanded and contracted with each inhale. Silas hadn’t bluffed, but he was letting her catch her breath, which was a mistake if he really wanted to push her to the edge.

  “You took those first two floggers well, girl.” His large hand cupped her ass and squeezed, waking up the welts with lightning strikes along her nerves, and she groaned as the pain spread. Then his other hand joined in, gripping her hip where the falls had wrapped around a little, and she felt a croaked whine escape. “I’m not done though, you know that, right?”

  The words were directly against her ear, and she felt his palm slide over her hip, across her stomach, and then down. She jumped when his fingers slid through her soaked lips, and the low chuckle reverberated against her back.

  “So wet,” he purred, stroking her clit with slow, torturous movements. Pleasure wound tight at her core, clenching at the absence of anything inside, and she leaned her head back to pant as he continued. “Going to come for me?” he taunted, a sadistic, satisfied edge to his voice that pulled her back from the pending orgasm.

  “Not yet, Sir.”

  “Oh, maybe you need a little more? I’ve got another flogger that I’d like to introduce to your skin.” His fingers abandoned her, dragging her wetness up and over her hip as he gripped hard and sandwiched her between the unforgiving wood and all of the hard muscle of his torso. The jutting erection against her striped ass didn’t help things, and she rolled her hips against it, reveling in the tingling buzz of the pain as she ground her ass against his cock. “You think teasing me is going to make me go easy on you, girl?”

  “Not at all, Sir.” Bianca smiled as she answered, missing the warmth of him as he stepped back. Her clit was humming with the memory of his deft fingers, and she was too focused on the pleasure he’d given when a blinding pain struck her ass. The scream was out and she was locked up tight before she’d had the chance to process it. Like a hundred sharp stabs across her ass, and then it happened again. She struggled against the cross, whimpering as the tears finally spilled over onto her cheeks. “FUCK!” she shouted as the next strike hit.

  “We’ll let that one slide, what do you think?” he asked, and then landed another vicious swipe of whatever fucking demon flogger he’d picked up. Her cries were ignored as he spoke again. “Your opinion doesn’t really matter, of course. You’re mine for the night, aren’t you?”

  The next series of lashes from the flogger came fast and hard, mind-numbing pain skirted across her nerves and then blurred, turned into heat, even when the random errant fall scratched along her thighs. She was panting, dizzy, groaning and whimpering without having enough mental power to focus and stop it. There was a golden horizon close, that sweet escape called subspace, but she had to let herself fall into it — had to stop fighting the pain and submit to him. Let go.

  Bianca suddenly relaxed, palms opening from clenched fists, the trembling in her thighs subsiding, and he walked around to the side to ensure she was still conscious. Bleary, tear-filled eyes met his and he made sure to keep his face stoic even as he felt a wash of relief.

  She was much tougher than she appeared, he’d been sure after one strike from the metal-tipped flogger that the well-dressed, smart-mouthed Bianca would be screaming ‘yellow’ at the top of her lungs, but though she’d screamed… she had never used the word.

  “Who do you belong to for the night?” he asked, and landed the flogger at a moderate strength. Her body jolted, and then relaxed again.

  “You, Sir,” she answered on a soft whine, and his cock turned to steel in his pants. Fuck. Submission. There was absolutely nothing like it on the face of the planet, and she was taking some of his worst and still not tapping out.

  “Who decides how much you take?”

  “You, Sir,” she replied again, but they both knew she could stop him with a word. It was why the fact that she was continuing was so fucking hot. There was too much temptation to snag a condom from his pocket, rip open his jeans, and plunge into the sweet heat between her thighs — but he hadn’t cleared that with her, and they definitely hadn’t spun it. To appease his throbbing cock, he landed another hard strike on her ass. Little bruises were appearing amidst the reddened, raised welts, and he liked the look.

  Even better was the way she cried out quietly and then rolled her hips. So close to subspace. Finding a place on her ass that didn’t have quite as many dark marks, he aimed and landed the flogger with precision. She jolted, but not as strongly as before, and he could have sworn the groan out of her mouth had faded into a moan at the end.

  Could she really handle him?


  “Do you remember what number you’re at?” he asked as he dropped the tipped flogger on the floor and picked up the wooden cane. She shook her head in silence, and he smiled behind her where she couldn’t see him. “Eight. So, I will give you eight more with the implement I chose to finish up this scene. We’re past the thirty-minute mark, so I think we’re done with the floggers.”

  “Huh?” Bianca raised her head a little, dazed as she bordered on subspace, a true masochist, and he didn’t fault her for the confused question.

  “Eight more, and if you’re a good girl, you’ll get your reward.” And hit subspace if he could get her there. Rolling the cane in his hand he moved to her side, checking her breathing, the languid look of her muscles, and then he brought the cane back and brought it down directly across the middle of her ass.

  There was half a heartbeat before she screamed, squirming against the cross as she pulled at the cuffs, but he knew it was worse to wait too long. The next strike was just below that one and she screamed beautifully, sputtering into a sob that had him groaning and fighting the urge to cup his cock through his jeans. Their audience had grown, more of the guests curling around the sides and back of the platform so they could see the beautiful array of welts he’d placed on her skin.

  Number three had her crying harder, and four landed on her sit spot and sent her into hysterics for a moment, yanking at the cuffs as she fought the pain. Relax and accept it. A second later, it was almost as if he’d spoken the words aloud because her arms went limp in the cuffs and her head leaned forward, panting breaths and soft sounds confirming she was still awake.

  The fifth strike of the cane made her body jolt, but there was barely a squeak from her, and so he placed six and seven across her thighs almost back to back. She moaned low, hips twisting in the most alluring way, sniffling softly.

  One more.

  Returning to the bruised welts of her ass, he aimed just above the first one he’d given her and struck. Number eight. Her back bowed, breasts lifted away from the wood as she cried out, and he could have sworn it was partially pleasure. A fucking masochist. The rare golden prize, the once in a blue moon sub, and he’d spun her name.

  Dropping the cane to the platform he approached and instantly slid his hand between her thighs. Not just wet, but practically dripping. Her folds felt like silk, and she pressed her ass back into his throbbing hard-on, trapped painfully behind the zipper, but he ignored the strain and focused on her. Slipping his fingers inside her, he felt her tense, tighten down as she sighed softly, moaning and rolling her hips in a daze. Subspace had caught her, and now he was going to ease her down so they could spin again — because he absolutely wasn’t done with Bianca.

  “You’re such a good girl,” he growled against her ear, licking and kissing and nipping his way up her throat to her ear. “You like having my fingers inside you?” Delving deeper, he stroked for her g-spot, finding it when her hips jolted against the cross. “Answer me.”

  Bianca moved with the rhythm of his thrusting fingers, two of them, just enough to stretch her entrance and give the perfect pressure on that place inside that made her body buckle. There was pleasure that had flooded in on the heels of the pain, of the cane, and she was drowning in it. Tongue refusing to form words as she nodded, desperate for just a little more.

  “No. Out loud,” he demanded and swatted the series of welts on her ass. She whimpered, dizzy with all the chemicals flooding her bloodstream, the spike of pain turning into heat in an instant.

  “Yes. Yes, Sir. Please,” she begged, babbling, but it didn’t matter when he pressed himself to her back and brought his other hand around to fill her so he could work her clit in tight circles. It felt like she was standing in a haze, a thick fog, and then there were bright flashes of light. Will o’ the wisps sparking in the dim as she started to moan, writhing with him, unable to even process the sting of the welts as she rubbed against his denim. “Please, please…”

  “You want permission?” he asked, a rumbling growl to his voice as he thrust his fingers a little harder.

  She nodded, desperate. “Yes, Sir! Please!”

  For another crippling moment he rubbed her clit, and then he nipped her shoulder and spoke directly into her ear. “Come, Bianca.”

  Letting go of everything, she let his precision touch bring her to the edge, and then push her over. The haze in her head turned into shimmering dust, glowing brightly, just before her nerves lit up in unison. Blinding pleasure, blistering heat, golden haze filling her up and rushing to the tip of every nerve ending to deliver ecstasy. She cried out something incoherent, collapsing against the cross, held up by the arm he wrapped around her waist as he slowed the circles on that bundle of nerves that now felt too sensitive. Hushed whimpers slipped from her as she floated, and he brushed soft, nipping kisses across her neck and shoulder. The heat of his body sank into hers as he laid his hand over her mound, holding her tight, neither of them moving or speaking for a moment other than the harsh breaths still leaving her lungs.

  “Time to get you down. I’m right here, okay?” His voice was low as he pulled away, and she felt his absence in the fog of her mind, but then she felt him working at her ankle. She pulled her leg in as soon as it was free, recognizing the strain of her inner thighs as he repeated it on the other side. When her feet were under her he released one arm, and she held onto the cross as he went to the other, but he didn’t abandon her, he wrapped his arm around her waist again as he let the last cuff loose and then eased them to the floor with her in his lap.

  If she could have thought clearly, she would have questioned him. Questioned the surprisingly gentle aftercare from the scene, but she was too out of it as she leaned into his chest and let him wrap his arms around her.

  Chapter 4

  The gathering had grown larger as he’d made her come, but now they were drifting away to watch other scenes. Silas was glad of it though, he wanted to bring her down easy, so he could wind her up again with something else. Subspace had tamed her for now, but when she made another smartass comment he’d know she was well enough for whatever the wheel brought them.

  One of the DMs approached, a big guy that he remembered had a nickname even though he couldn’t actually remember what it was. “She okay?” he asked quietly, respectful of her current state.

  “Just fine,” Silas answered, and then he looked at the man again. “Can you grab me some orange juice from Klara? With a straw?”

  The DM smiled, a wide grin that showed his appreciation of the care. “Fuck yeah, man. That was great to watch.”

  “It was,” he agreed as the man walked away toward the bar. Adjusting Bianca in his lap he recognized the glazed, dreamy expression. Somehow she hadn’t just taken the pain, even the stuff he’d been sure would make her safeword, but she’d actually hit subspace. Converted it into that twisted pleasure of which only masochists were capable. Like some kind of BDSM alchemy, transmuting one thing into another with zero explanation as to how.

  He would never cease to be amazed by it.

  Keeping her against his chest he rubbed one hand casually up and down her arm, listening to the soft sounds she made with each gentle exhale. His heart was still pounding, his cock was still painfully hard, but he wasn’t moving an inch until she was able to stand on her own again.

  The DM returned with the juice in a glass, a plastic, hot pink, looping straw sticking out of it. Glancing up at the bar he sighed as Klara saluted him sarcastically and busted out laughing. He flipped her off and then took the glass, adjusting so that Bianca was sitting up. “You need to drink this.”

  She made a disgruntled little noise and burrowed her face against his chest, eyes still closed, and he grinned. Reaching down he pinched her ass hard, right over a raised welt, and she gasped, eyes popping open. “Sonuva—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence, girl. Drink.” Holding the glass in front of her lips, she wrapped them around the straw, and he watched as the orange juice traveled around the loops u
ntil it met her mouth. For a second he had the strongest urge to pull the drink away and kiss her. Taste her lips, the sweetness of the juice on her tongue, devour her mouth until he heard her moan against his — no, she needed to be steady. He wanted to spin and play again, figure out a way to twist whatever activity she landed on to his own benefit, and get this fucking hard-on handled.

  Pulling away from the straw, Bianca seemed to realize where she was and sat up straight, wincing a little as the welts moved against his jeans. “I’m fine, really. Sir.”

  When she tried to get up he pulled her back. “I’m pretty sure you hit subspace, so you’re going to sit for a minute and drink this fucking juice until I say you’re ready.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, submitting. As she swallowed, her beautiful throat moved, and then she rubbed a hand over her face. “I think I hit subspace too, and it’s been a while. Um, Sir.” The last addition made him bite his cheek to avoid a grin, but he managed just to nod.

  “Exactly why you need a little juice before I torture you with whatever you spin next.”

  Her groan broke his willpower and he found himself grinning as she took another drink and leveled her gaze at him. It was subtle torture to see her sucking on the straw with those deep brown eyes angled up. Too close to a blowjob, and his cock was already miserable. She swallowed another mouthful, and then reached up to trace her fingers along his throat. “You’ve got so many tattoos, are these flowers?”

  “Yeah, flowers and some stylization, it’s part of the one on my chest.”

  She laughed softly, a bright sound that made him grin again. “Do you always smile like you’re planning on eating someone?”

  “What?” he asked, confused, and she laughed again.

  “Every time you smile like that, it reminds me of a wolf. You show teeth, but it feels… threatening.” Her words seemed like she might be afraid, but she was still running her fingers along the lines of his tattoo, leaning in, interested as she pulled his collar wider to follow the ink.