by Livia Grant
She blinked, clearly adjusting to the idea of scening again. “Dom’s Choice,” she murmured.
His heart swelled. She trusted him. They’d clicked from day one because she let him lead without question or hesitation. Considering who she was in her day life, that meant everything.
Chapter 4
Jennifer didn’t actually need the promised whipping. Despite the fact she’d been angry as hell at the time, she’d still received the same endorphin rush from the hairbrush paddling, and now that her emotions had been wrung out and restored as well, she didn’t need anything more.
Well, an orgasm or two might be nice. But even that wasn’t necessary. She had a tenuous peace in her heart she’d never felt before. Or was it just exhaustion? No, it was peace. She felt more relaxed with Derek, but it also seemed fragile—like someone might come and take it from her at any moment.
And, honestly, if she hadn’t made the bet, she never would’ve agreed to a date. Master D—Derek—thought he wanted to date her, but what did he know about her other than that she could take a good beating? She wasn’t submissive in real life—couldn’t be. She had to be tough. Strong.
When he figured that out, he’d turn mean and try to tear her down, the way Sal had. And she couldn’t take losing him. Not when she needed him to be her weekend dom to keep her sane.
Derek led her toward the roulette wheel, but Chase hailed him from the stage before they arrived. A dom and his sub stood there. The tall, clean-shaven dom, who she didn’t recognize, looked smart in a red shirt, black trousers, and a red-and-black striped tie. He leaned his head close to Chase’s.
“Master D, can you give Adam a quick refresher on using a whip?”
“A bullwhip?”
A shiver ran down Jennifer’s spine just hearing the implement named. Derek had used one on her the third time they’d scened together, and it had been amazing—fulfilling all her dungeon fantasies. He’d been masterful with it, which she knew from her research was a challenge.
“Wait here, baby, I’ll be right back,” Derek murmured, squeezing her hip before he left her side. The other dom placed his sub, a tall, curvy woman with long, chestnut curls, in a cage. Derek conferred with him for a few moments then they taped a pillow to the center of the St. Andrew’s cross for the dom to practice with. She couldn’t hear what was said, but it seemed like Derek offered a few pointers then shook hands with the dom and returned to her.
Seeing her interest in the scene, he bit her ear. “Maybe I’ll put you on the cross next, baby girl.”
“Mmm,” was all she could manage.
Derek propelled her to the roulette wheel. She dropped her ball into the spinning wheel, not really caring what she landed on. It landed on whipping.
Derek’s dark chuckle sent frissons of pleasure shooting through her. “Looks like the wheel knows just what you need, baby,” he murmured, his deep voice plunging straight to her core. “Why don’t you spin it once more so we don’t have to come back?”
She obeyed, landing this time on anal penetration with condom.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Derek growled, the satisfied smirk on his face positively wolfish.
She shivered. He hadn’t fucked her ass before, although he’d threatened it. Usually the pain play took up most of their time together.
“Let’s go, baby.” Derek ducked and picked her up in a fireman’s carry—throwing her over his shoulder so her ass flew up in the air, the miniscule skirt fluttering down to show her bare bottom and probably more to the entire place.
She smacked his back. “This isn’t ageplay, this is Viking capture fantasy.”
His deep laugh shook his whole torso. He smacked her ass. “This is whatever I say it is, pumpkin.” He took off, zooming around the room like he had before, sending her into shrieks of laughter.
Damn, she didn’t want to have this much fun with him. She was starting to feel...close to him.
Some of the nearby audience twittered.
He circled the room then pulled up and dropped her in front of the spanking bench.
“Kneel, little girl.”
So it was still “little girl”? Funny, it didn’t bug her as much as it had before. She certainly had become that little girl, with the tears and tantrum to match, but it had turned out all right. The world hadn’t collapsed because she’d shown weakness.
It was a good thing Derek had stopped her from leaving, though. Because if he hadn’t talked her down, she probably would’ve hated him forever. Never returned to Black Light, too embarrassed to show her face again.
Now, anger had been replaced with a warm glow. The whole event seemed different somehow—less stressful, more welcoming. She knelt on the padded leather knee rests of the spanking bench, folding her torso over the body rest and placing her forearms on the second set of narrow padded leather rests.
Derek buckled her with the efficiency she’d come to expect from him. Lord, she valued an experienced dom. No, not just any experienced dom, because she’d had the chance to scene with Senator Kane tonight, who she’d played with in the past, and it hadn’t excited her in the least.
Derek stroked her ass. “So…a whipping and then an ass-fucking.”
“Language, Daddy,” she sang out in a fake baby girl voice.
He smacked her ass with his palm, hard. Her flesh was still tenderized from the hairbrushing earlier, and it stung and made her gasp. “Bottom-fucking, then.”
She giggled.
He kneaded and stroked her twitching ass. “I mean...Daddy’s going to teach his baby girl a long, hard lesson with his strap and then he’s going to punish this naughty little ass some more with his cock.”
That tweaked her. Her pussy clenched, pelvic floor lifting and fluttering.
He stopped stroking and rummaged in his duffel bag, producing a thick leather strop.
She shivered, knowing it was a serious instrument, especially considering how sore she already was.
“You’re in big trouble, baby girl.” He whapped the leather into his open palm. “Do you know why?”
Oh lordy. More question and answering? “No, Daddy,” she said brightly, letting the perkiness of her voice serve as subtle rebellion.
He chuckled, but before the deep reverberation had stopped, a line of fire exploded across her ass.
She jerked, the ankle and wrist cuffs biting into her flesh and she cursed herself for the instinctive lurch away. She prided herself on being able to hold a position during a whipping. Drawing a long, slow breath, she counseled herself to remain still. It was only the surprise of the first stroke that had made her struggle.
He struck again, and this time she’d prepared for it, opening up for the pain, welcoming it. That was the trick. If you braced against it, the pleasure took longer to arrive. She liked to think of each stinging weal as another stroke toward her orgasm—already framing it in her mind as pleasure, even though it hurt.
“You don’t ever run away from me, baby girl.” His voice was low and dangerous. He sounded like he meant business, and she fucking loved it when he used that tone with her. Except this time it was about something real that had just happened. Which made this punishment versus pleasure.
He whipped her again, and her momentary distraction caused her once more to flinch. Dammit. She was really off her game tonight. Another line of fire fell, and another.
She drew measured breaths across her teeth, found her eyes watering.
What in the hell? Maybe once the dam opened, the water ran free?
“If you’re mad at me”—he laid another stroke and she sank her teeth into her lower lip— “you stay and tell me about it.”
Damn, the man could wield a strop. A sheen of sweat broke out across her back and chest.
“Preferably with respect, but if you can’t manage that, you tell me anyway. I’ll deal with your naughtiness later.”
Aaand that made her pussy wet.
“But you don’t ever run away.” He struck the backs
of her thighs, and she tossed her head back, squeezing her eyes closed and holding her breath to keep from crying out. “Answer me.” The cold command drew her out of the pain and into the present. Had he asked a question? No.
“Yes, sir. Daddy. Sir.”
He whipped again. “Apologize.”
It made her heart explode into a gallop. The feeling of being wrong, being held accountable. She hated it but sort of loved him for forcing her into this place. And definitely hated him.
“I’m sorry I ran off.” Her voice warbled a little.
Derek must have heard it because his face suddenly appeared beside hers, blue eyes assessing but warm. He’d crouched beside her, and his big hand dropped onto the back of her head, fingers burrowing into her hair and massaging her scalp. “I’m sorry you thought you had to.” His voice came low enough that only she could hear. “You’re always safe with me, baby. Even when you crack.”
Oh damn him.
She turned her face away, but his grip on her hair immediately turned brutal, lifting and turning her head back. Tears blurred her vision. “S-stop,” she quavered.
“Nope.” He said it quickly and with complete determination.
A tear dribbled across her nose. He thumbed it away.
“You think I’d break you and then let you fall? No fucking way, baby.”
“Shut up,” she croaked.
He kissed her temple and leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m not a daddy dom. Not even close. But I do know how to take care of you. And I will. I promise you that.”
She wanted out of the scene again. Her emotions scrabbled all over the place, the primary one being fear.
As usual, her perceptive dom sensed it. He released her and switched the strop from his left hand to his right as he stood. It was his look of disappointment that did her in.
She didn’t expect him to be merciful, and he wasn’t. The thick leather fell with hard blows, filling the air with loud cracks as it struck her raw flesh.
Her back shook with threatened sobs, but she shoved them back down. She wasn’t going to fail this again.
“Stop!” she screamed.
Stop wasn’t a safeword, and most doms would demand her to use one or shut up, but Derek returned to crouch beside her.
“Yes?”
Tears ran across her face in messy lines, dripping into her mouth and nose. “What do you want from me?” she sobbed.
He mopped her tears with his palm, though the gesture wasn’t particularly tender. More matter-of-fact.
“I want you to stop holding back from me. Give me a chance.” He stroked her hair back and this time his touch was a caress.
“I... can’t,” she croaked. She expected more anger. More whipping, but his expression didn’t change, and he didn’t move.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
She closed her eyes, letting more tears run. “You,” she whispered. “Everything. I just can’t.”
Derek’s chest felt like an anvil had dropped on it. Jennifer’s resistance was so much more than he’d expected. But he’d made his play, and he wasn’t going to back down or stop until he succeeded.
Jennifer was his, dammit. She’d been his since the first night she walked up to him and dropped to her knees. He just needed to make her realize it.
Something had her terrified of relationships, and he needed to figure out what it was.
“Who hurt you, baby?”
Her face slackened slightly, eyes going wider. She licked her lips.
“What happened? What are you afraid I’ll do?”
She made a restless motion. “Master…” She swallowed. “Derek, please. Let me out of this thing.”
He shook his head. “Nope. There’s only two ways out. One is to safeword. You know I’d let you out immediately, but I’d be pretty fucking disappointed. The other is to wade through this shit until we get to the other side. You’re a soldier, angel—are you really going to quit when things get tough?”
It was a low blow, to invoke her military pride, but he’d taken the gloves off quite a bit earlier in the evening.
Her gaze turned defiant. If she’d been standing, her chin would’ve lifted.
He grinned. “That’s what I thought.” He stood again. “I’m going to finish this whipping. And then I’m going to take your ass—I mean, your naughty little bottom hole—and when I’m finished, you’d better be ready to talk to your daddy about what you need.”
He saw confusion flit across her face before he walked back. She looked so beautiful, buckled and spread for him on the bench. Her flimsy skirt was flipped up on her back, leaving her delectable ass and pussy bare and presented for all to see. She’d already taken a lot. Her cheeks were swollen and red from the hairbrushing and now marked with stripes from the belt. Her backside would definitely be too sore for sitting the next day.
“Ten more for refusing to talk to Daddy.”
Her head twisted around, but he started in on the whipping before she could protest.
He brought the strap down across her quivering cheeks. “Count them.”
“One, sir,” she shouted in perfect military cadence. He whipped her again. “Two, sir.”
“It’s Daddy.” Another strike.
“Three, Daddy.” She sounded out of breath.
He struck a fourth time, a fifth. Six times. His cock pressed painfully against his fly. He shouldn’t love hurting women, but he’d long since given up trying to defend against the eroticism of it. As long as his partner loved it, too, it had to be okay.
Jennifer’s voice grew more hoarse, choked.
Seven, eight, nine strokes.
He heard tears behind the words. His poor baby. She’d never cried before tonight. This had to be killing her—not the pain part but actually losing the war to tears.
“Ten, Daddy!”
He dropped the strap and ran his palm up the beautiful slope of her back. “Good girl,” he soothed her, noting the tremble running through her and the fine sheen of perspiration coating her back. “Sweet girl. Daddy forgives you.”
She sagged, probably only semi-coherent at this point. That was part of the cruelty of requiring a sub to count their last strokes—to ask them to speak when they wanted to fly away.
On to her reward, then.
And his.
On the other side of the dungeon, a dom fucked his sub in the stockade, and her wanton sounds filled the entire floor.
From his duffel bag, he pulled out a small bullet vibrator and turned it on. Jennifer jumped when he brought it to her labia, her pelvic floor contracting, inner thighs flexing against her bonds. He dragged it slowly up and down her slit, teasing her opening, not quite reaching her clit. Jennifer’s toes curled.
Adorable.
He did a swift drive-by of her clit, and she made a choking sound. Another fleeting touch. The third time he kept the vibe there and circled her swollen nub as he massaged her anus with the thumb of his other hand.
She mewled.
He removed the vibe, to her moan of protest, and slid it inside her, pushing it up until it bumped the G-spot area on the high front wall. He left it there and applied a generous amount of lube to her anus then unbuttoned his black jeans and let his raging hard-on spring free.
Without taking his eyes from the fucking amazing sight of his sub presented and quivering for him, he rolled on a condom and lubed his sheathed cock. “Okay, beautiful girl.” He released her wrist cuffs and pulled her hips back two inches, away from the bench. “You’re going to hold perfectly still right here, got it, baby?”
“Yes, si—Daddy.”
He knew she would, too. Give her an order, she followed. He reached around the front of her hips, now that there was room, and lightly grazed her clit.
Her groan was all wanton. Fitting his cock against her back entrance, he pushed gently. “Take a breath, beautiful.”
Her back stretched as she complied.
“Now, blow it out.” As she exhaled, he eased forw
ard, breaching the tight ring of muscles. “Good girl,” he praised, moving slowly, giving her time to relax and breathe through the shock of intrusion.
“You know why Daddy’s fucking your ass, baby girl?”
She shook her head. “Because I landed on it?”
He slapped her clit. “Don’t get smart, little one.” He slapped again. “Or Daddy will have to punish you again before we’re through.”
Her breath shuddered audibly when she sucked it in.
“No, Daddy is fucking his baby girl’s ass because he owns it.” He waited for her to deny it, but she didn’t. “When you’ve been naughty, your ass will get fucked. When you’ve been good, your ass will get fucked. When you need to be reminded of who’s in charge, your ass will get fucked. And mostly your ass will get fucked just because Daddy wants to.” He reached forward with his free hand and gripped her hair, lifting her head straight up. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she gasped.
“Good girl.” He gripped her waist and shoved deep, moving in and out faster but keeping his strokes smooth and direct.
Her breath came in short pants now; a high pitched whine keened from her throat.
“Does my baby need to come?”
“Yes, master,” she gasped. “I mean, Daddy...oh God, please!”
His thighs shook with need, balls tightened. “Fuck, yeah,” he growled and snapped his hips, barely keeping his mind enough to keep from pounding her into oblivion. “You...take...Daddy’s...cock...like a...good girl.” He spoke on each thrust, burying deep on the last one and assaulting her clit with rapid slaps. “Come, baby!”
She screamed, body shaking. He managed to shove the tips of a few fingers into her pussy, wanting to feel the squeezing of those muscles as she came all over them.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, rubbing the pads of his fingers up and down over her swollen, glossy slit. “Such a good girl.”
She let out a sob and collapsed completely, muscles going slack beneath him.
He waited to catch his breath, the intensity of the moment making it hard to return to a thinking state. Eventually, he eased out of her and removed the condom before tossing a blanket over Jennifer’s back.