The Effing List

by Cherise Sinclair

  His hand was warm as he cupped her cheek. “I’ll check in with you to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “Okay.” She pulled in a breath. Was she really going to do this? Yes, yes, she was. “Okay.

  “Very good.” His gaze swept over her. “You’re stunning in that corset, but take it off now, please.”

  But, but, but…

  He smiled. And waited.

  Oh gods. At least they were near the quietest area of the club. And the rationale didn’t relieve her embarrassment one bit as she unhooked the corset. With lace on the top straps and extending down into a thigh-length skirt, it made her feel very feminine.

  Biting her lip, she removed…everything, and now, she felt very, very naked.

  At his leisurely perusal, she grew all too aware of everywhere that sagged or dimpled where it used to be firm.

  “You’re so pretty.” His growl of appreciation let her breathe again.

  He pulled a wide rolling table closer and set out two floggers and a cane. “Come over here, please.”

  She silently joined him, feeling every single waft of air on her bare skin.

  “These are what I plan to use on you. A few of the basics.”

  He took her hand and ran her fingers over the suede falls of one flogger, then another with thicker strands. “Floggers are fun, don’t you think?”

  What would that feel like—with him using it? With the submissive earlier, it…

  “Then there’s the cane.” He stroked her fingers over the smooth, cool surface, studying her closely.

  “I don’t know what a cane feels like,” she admitted.

  “All right. I’ll take it easy to begin.”

  Her gaze focused on the stuff still inside the bag. Even one of those spikey pizza cutter things.

  He followed her gaze. “This is a Wartenberg wheel.”

  “It looks…sharp.”

  “The better to tease you with, my dear…sometime in the future. On your back, your ass. And it’s an interesting sensation for here.” He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her tightening nipple.

  Something so sharp on her breast? She almost stepped back, but his arm behind her back kept her in place as he fondled one breast, then the other, the kneading increasing in pressure until the tissue swelled. His green gaze stayed on her face as his fingers rolled her nipples, pressed and loosened, tugged to where the pain started to slide into pure heat.

  His smile appeared, then he took fleece-lined cuffs from his bag and fastened them on her wrists and ankles.

  The sensation of something wrapped around her wrists was…appallingly carnal. As if he was already holding her down. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “I thought all you Dom types used leather and buckles and padlocks.”

  His laugh was deep and masculine. “I have those, too. But for inexperienced subbies, I prefer something I can release quickly.”

  He turned her to face the cross. “Lean into the support and relax, Valerie.”

  The padding was cool against her stomach and between her breasts. Unlike the St. Andrew’s cross, she had a place to rest her cheek as he snapped her wrist cuffs to the horizontal arms.

  The upright cushion was narrow, letting her breasts dangle, and he adjusted them, openly enjoying himself in the process.

  “I want your legs open, pet,” he said, a moment before he pulled her right leg out to the side and secured it to a chain on the cross’s bottom stand. “Because I like to touch…everything.”

  He did her left leg. “Perfect.” He took a scrunchie from his bag and secured her hair on top of her head.

  She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath as anticipation and anxiety bubbled like froth on a heated lake of arousal. It didn’t help that he was running his hand up and down her bare back. “I’m good.”

  “Yes, you are.” He kissed her again, making her world spin as if the lake had a whirlpool at the center. What would she agree to, just to have more of those kisses?

  * * *

  Valerie’s body hit every hot button he had, Ghost thought. Her legs and arms were tanned, but her torso was paler, perfect for showing red marks. Full breasts with big nipples with the faint striations that showed she’d nursed her children.

  Her lush hips were made to be squeezed by a man’s hands. Her belly was soft and rounded, and he looked forward to flattening her under his weight.

  To taking possession in the most basic of instincts. How many wars had the desire for a woman started?

  He moved forward to cup one heavy breast and enjoyed the faint gasp she gave as he touched her. “Damn, I like your body.”

  Her eyes lifted, disbelief obvious.

  He rather thought he might know how she felt in a way. Age, wear and tear, and war had caught up with him, too.

  “Valerie.” He weighed her breast, thumb teasing the jutting nipple. “You’re softer than you were, I daresay, but I enjoy softness. Very, very much.”

  Knuckles under her chin, he lifted her head so he could enjoy her mouth, her response, and the slight gasp as he squeezed each breast.

  He stepped back.

  Wasn’t she a lovely sight? Bound to the cross, legs open for his enjoyment.

  He did a quick check to ensure the Velcro wrist and ankle cuffs weren’t cutting off her circulation. Then, taking his time, he ran his fingertips up and down her inner thighs, enjoying how her legs started to tremble.

  “Such delicate skin,” he murmured. He’d have to take care. Her skin would be thinner, easier to tear, than if she was twenty.

  He slapped the backs of her thighs, then her ass lightly, warming her skin, before moving up to check positioning. Yes, perfect. Her cheek rested against the upright cushion, and her arms were supported by the cross-pieces.

  “Are you comfortable, Valerie?” He kept one hand on her, above her ass. Reassuring her. “You’ll be in this position for a while.”

  She was still almost upright, tipped only slightly forward on the cross. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good answer.” He kissed her gently, then took the kiss deeper. Pain would feed the arousal in a masochist like her, but it all started with awakening the sexual response. Once they knew each other better, he’d be able to do it with a tone in his voice, with a look, but now, especially with her nervousness and self-doubt, he’d have to waken her deliberately.

  He couldn’t think of anything he’d enjoy more.

  Kissing her again, he nipped her lips, introducing the first sting of pain, before taking her mouth again. Possessing. Dominating.

  Gripping her hair, he tilted her head back and enjoyed the sweet yielding response of a submissive. “Look at me.”

  Her eyes lifted to meet his.

  Keeping her hair fisted, he held her immobile. “I’m going to hurt you now,” he whispered. “And when I’m done, we’re going to find a bed, and I’m going to take you until I’m satisfied.”

  Her pupils dilated with heat—and longing.

  “What is your safeword? The one that stops the scene immediately.” He waited for her to remember.

  It took her a moment. “Red. It’s red.”

  “Use yellow if you want me to change something, but not stop the scene entirely.”

  A tiny nod said she understood.

  But her hesitation in remembering her safeword indicated it didn’t come automatically to her lips. For now, he’d have to be careful. Observant. Remind her.

  “Let’s start with your favorite kind of pain.” Because she needed the intimacy of his bare hand.

  He started light, working up to what should be a comfortable sting, before leaning his weight against her and pausing to enjoy her breasts. As he squeezed, tugged, and rolled those full nipples, he could feel how her breathing sped up. Her clean scent was like the fragrance of a garden at dawn as he kissed the lovely curve between her neck and shoulder. When he bit down, her nipples peaked in his palms.

  “There’s a good girl,” he growled in her ear. He kneaded her breasts roughly
, with his chest pressing hard enough against her back she couldn’t move away, letting her feel her helplessness as he hurt her.

  Her body was warm; a faint sheen showed on her face.

  Moving back, he picked up his warm-up flogger. Starting slow, he ran the soft suede strands over her shoulders, her breasts, and her ass. Letting her steep in the sensuous smell and feel of leather.

  Then he slapped the falls against her back in a comfortable figure-eight pattern, going for a light pattering sensation. The tune “Half God Half Devil” playing over the speakers determined his rhythm as he flogged her shoulders and down to her ass, avoiding her spine and kidneys.

  The club, the people, everything disappeared as his focus tightened, as every motion of her breathing registered, every twitch and shiver, the color of her skin, the light glow of sweat.

  Only the music existed with what she gave him—the hitch in an inhalation, a moan.

  Soon there would be more.

  With each circuit, he increased the strength of the blows until her skin roughened, pinkened, showing it was ready for more.

  But was she? Laying the flogger aside, he leaned against her again, nipping her earlobe.

  * * *

  The sharp bite of teeth on her ear pulled her from the pretty haze, from the lovely mild burn that covered her back like a heated blanket, a contrast to the cooler cushion on her front. His belt buckle was a cold circle against her lower back. When he cupped her breasts, his palms were hot.

  “Okay, pretty professor.” The low rough voice felt like the flogger had, dancing over her skin. “You with me here? Open your eyes.”

  When had she closed them?

  She lifted her lids.

  His green gaze was assessing, careful—and hotter than the center of a flame.

  “You like this,” she said in wonder.

  His deep laugh was openly amused. “Absolutely. So, do you, it appears.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” She managed to stop herself from saying, “More.” The memory of Barry’s disgust had never completely disappeared.

  But he must have read the request in her face, this too-perceptive Dom. “We’re nowhere near done, pet.”

  He kissed her, even as he caressed her breasts. Stepping back, he trailed his hands down her back, over her ass, and between her legs. Discovering she was wet, he made a low appreciative sound. With slow, deliberate strokes, he slid his fingers over her clit and around her entrance, until the bursts of pleasure were entwined with the burning of her skin.

  With a low laugh, he moved back. Something struck her back, a different flogger. This one felt less like raindrops and more like the slapping of a myriad of hard hands. He worked from her shoulders to her ass, slowly increasing and decreasing the blows, occasionally hitting hard enough to take her breath.

  And it started to hurt as the heat turned to a burning ache.

  Just before she was ready to speak, he stopped. His weight pressed against her again. Her skin was so hot and tender, she could feel every strand of thread in his shirt and pants. His clothing was wonderfully cooler.

  Then his hands found her breasts and oh, the feeling. As if she’d been waiting forever to be touched.

  “You still with me here?” he rumbled in her ear as his fingers teased her, hurt her. The pain was sweet, blooming in cascades of pleasure, leaving her gasping for air. “Valerie, look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. So hot and amazing and… “Um. Yes. I’m good.”

  He huffed a laugh. “You’re going to be an easy one to toss into subspace, aren’t you? Let’s get you off first, then we’ll enjoy some mutual play after you recover.”

  “Right.” Play sounded amazing.

  He laughed and pinched her nipples until the burn ran like a stream of molten lava straight to her core.

  As he moved away, his hands ran over her back and ass, then between her legs. He teased her until she was squirming, and all she could think about was being touched.

  Being taken.

  He flogged her again, slower, bringing her back to a mindless place where she was simply…taking.

  Until it all changed. The pain was different, harsher, stinging lines walking across her ass and upper thighs. The cane? Not quite unbearable, pulling her deeper, until—

  There was a pause and the cane struck harder. The pain was a burning line and then sank into her, blended with her somehow, and then he struck again. Again and again.

  He stroked his hand over her butt. “Breathe, Valerie. Ride the pain.”

  She pulled in air through her nose, breathed it out, as if preparing to meditate. The ache receded like the surf pulling away from the sand.

  His gaze was on her, waiting, giving her a chance to quit. And she wanted to—it hurt!—only she didn’t, because the pain had turned into the slow surge of waves with the turning of the tide.

  Her lips formed the word. More.

  A crease appeared in his cheek, and she could almost feel the pleasure radiating from him, the enjoyment of what he was doing.

  He’d given her this—and she’d given him the same.

  The pain started again, startling another squeak from her, and his deep chuckle swept over her like a hot wind before it disappeared into the pool of sensation.

  “You deserve a reward, sweetness.”

  She blinked, realizing he’d stopped. His chest was against her, and then his fingers under her chin tilted her head back against his shoulder. His hand curled around her vulnerable, exposed throat, pressing lightly in the most primal of threats.

  The fingers of his other hand slid between her pelvis and the cross, then down over her mound. With her legs wide, nothing was denied to him, and he slid two fingers over her clit and inside her. Out and over again. And inside again.

  Overwhelming pleasure swept through her, making her shake, but her arms were restrained; his body pinned her, his hand still pressed against her throat.

  She could only tremble as the tension, the need to come spiraled out of control.

  His chin rubbed against her temple as he whispered, “You feel good, pet.” His fingers pressed in and out. “Later tonight, my cock will be here, buried deep inside you for my own pleasure.”

  His slick fingers swept over her clit, paused, and circled, slower and slower as her whole body went rigid, waiting for the next touch.

  It came, and gods, everything inside her contracted and then released in billowing waves of sensation. “Ah, ah, ahhhh.”

  He was chuckling, still holding her in place, and before she’d come down, he slid his fingers inside, his palm on her clit, sending her over again so hard all she could do was gasp.

  “Nice, very nice, pet.”

  He stepped back, and then he was spanking her ass, sending her back up, the pain—the not-pain—resonating with the orgasm, and she sank into a whole new space. Deep under the waves, there was no pain. She could feel each impact like a quivering of the heavy waters.

  Then he was flogging her again, only lighter. A patter like rain on the ocean danced over her skin, and she sank even deeper.

  A low chuckle broke into the rhythmic rocking of the waves. “Eyes open, sweetheart,” he said.

  His eyes were so green, his face so hard. Such a warrior. So safe.

  “Come on back to the real world, Valerie. I’m taking your restraints off now.”

  Restraints? She blinked as he pulled her legs together.

  Bracing herself on the cross, she tried to stand on her own. He kept an arm around her waist as he undid her wrists.

  Even as her legs wobbled, he wrapped a fluffy blanket around her and sat her down on the floor.

  Taking a knee, he lifted her chin.

  She tried to focus her eyes.

  “You went a bit deeper than I expected for a newbie, pet. Let’s get some fluid into you.” He put a bottle into her hand, curling her fingers around it, then helped her raise it to her mouth.

  A sip of cool sweetness slipped down her throat, and sh
e swallowed. So good. More. She drank, and after a minute, he let her hold the bottle on her own. “Thank you.”

  Why did she feel so shaky inside?

  He studied her for a long moment, then leaned forward and kissed her. His touch and attention on her settled the quivery feeling.

  When he pulled back, all she could do was look at him, falling into his eyes.

  He kissed her again. Slow and sweet.

  When she sighed, he chuckled, then rubbed his slightly scratchy cheek against hers. After removing the scrunchie from her hair, he massaged her scalp.

  It felt amazing. Was it possible for her muscles to go even limper?

  Giving one lock of hair a tug, he smiled at her. “Sit and get hydrated while I clean up.”

  “I can—”

  “No, sweetheart, you will stay where I put you.” His smile deepened. “I warned you what happened with sadists, didn’t I?”

  “…we sadists enjoy turning our victims into quivering messes who aren’t up to anything more demanding than sitting on the floor.”

  Good grief, he’d done exactly that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ghost used the elevator to take his blanket-wrapped submissive upstairs to his own quarters. To his bedroom. Still glowing and pink, she was a lovely sight.

  She’d look exactly right in his bed.

  Stopping near the doorway, he dimmed the hanging Moroccan lanterns to a golden glow.

  Leaning against him, she was staring at the king-sized canopy bed he’d bought when he returned to the lifestyle. Rather than wood, the steel frame was of twisted black metal. The Celtic scrollwork on the head and footboards—and corners of the upper and lower posts—made excellent anchors for bondage without being obvious.

  He set Valerie’s clothing on the dresser and dropped his bag at the end of the bed.

  After stripping off her blanket, he sat Valerie in the center of the satin comforter. The black and dark blue arabesque patterns set off her fair skin. Her hair was tangled, her big blue eyes wide, and even as he watched, she flushed under his gaze. “What?”

  “You are so pretty,” he murmured, and bent to kiss her.