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I angle my hips, desperate to rub against the cross. If I can push at the panel between my legs and press it closer, I can get some relief. But it’s no use. As soon as I push my pelvis forward, Victor stops the vibration.
“Naughty girl.” Victor comes to hold my hip and pat me with the paddle again. He swats me until I’m dancing from right foot to left, trying to get away. Then, he amps up the vibrator, transforming the pain to golden and perfect pressure. My clit swells, my orgasm darting just within reach?—
The vibration dies.
“No,” I mumble, despite myself. “Please.”
“Since you ask so nicely. . . beg for your punishment. And I’ll give you a reward.”
My thoughts trip and fall over themselves. I take too long to answer, and Victor steps away again.
“Very well.” He switches to the heavier flogger, letting the strands fall in a wall of knotted ends that knock the breath out of me. The blows leave me numb at first, the pain rushing in too late.
I curse, but eventually, my anger runs out. I’m lost in the darkness, and at least the pain gives me something to focus on. It flares in the distance, a bright, wicked light.
Besides, focusing on the pain lets me ignore what else is happening in my body. Some strange alchemy is happening, transforming all sensations to the deep, insistent ache between my legs.
Eventually, the pain isn’t enough to keep me tied to the present. It becomes one giant, surging ocean, and I’m lost in the rise and fall of the waves.
I can’t see, but I can hear. Without realizing it, I start to hum. The sound is another vibration, a pleasing counterpoint to the one between my legs.
I barely hear Victor calling my name. His cheek rubs mine, and I lean into the pleasant prick of stubble.
“Still with me?” He cups my breasts and kisses my sweaty neck. I press into his palms and bow my head, letting him trail his mouth over the tender spots. He could cut my throat. He could bite me and make me bleed. Instead, he’s kissing me with impossibly soft lips. I want to hate it, but I don’t. It feels so good.
When he steps away, I want to cry. I wait for another round of flogging, but nothing comes. The vibrator on my clit surges higher and higher. I pant through it, my hips jutting forward as if I can ride the invisible waves. All too soon, they die away.
“Tell me what you want, beautiful. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Please. I want to cum.” My voice sounds far away.
He loosens the harness, and I almost cry. The straps and panel fall away, but in their place, Victor puts his hand.
“Beg me,” he hisses. His voice is all malice, but his long fingers are already working between my legs, bringing me bliss.
“Please, please, please,” I whisper over and over. It doesn’t feel like defeat. It feels right, like the natural next step. Like I’ve been underwater, finally broke the surface, and it’s time to take a sweet inhale. It’s not surrender. It’s what I need to survive.
He strums my clit just right, pulling my moans out of me like music.
“Yes,” I say. “More.”
His fingers plunge into my soaked channel. It’s almost enough. My orgasm is bright and shining and within reach. And he slips his free hand around my breast and tweaks my sore nipple.
I cum, shaking against the cross, mouth open. Howls fill my ears. As I come down from the peak, I realize the sound is coming from me.
Victor moves close to me, and my arms drop. Victor frees my ankles next and scoops me up. I’m still blindfolded—in the dark and off balance. I grab at him, clinging to my captor like he’s the only thing tethering me to the earth.
“I need to taste you.”
I’m laid out on a table and strapped down again, but I don’t care because my legs are pulled apart, and Victor is there, oh, he’s there, and his hot mouth is on my folds, and his tongue presses in. I throw back my head and scream. He licks and probes and devours me, and my orgasm swells again, no gentle tide this time but a tidal wave that’s crashing over me, destroying everything in its path.
I can’t see anything, and it’s cruel. Every squeeze of his hand, every soft swipe of his tongue, is all magnified a millionfold. It’s cruel to deny me the sight of Victor’s intent face: his mouth hidden by the swell of my sex, his eyes on mine, and his pupils blown, the icy blue of his irises consumed by lust.
I don’t know how long he eats me, how many orgasms I have, or whether it was one long, continuous orgasm. I only know that it’s a mercy when he finally takes his mouth away.
“Lula,” he growls, and the flogger falls again, warming my front. Then it’s the crop, biting at my breasts. It hurts and feels good. I arch my back, accepting the pain, feeling the connection to him any way I can. I want to feel him, to touch him. Pain or pleasure don’t matter. I want more, more, more.
His thumb nudges my clit, and I realize he’s stopped striking me. My body is throbbing. I am scoured by sensation, devoured by it, and every nerve is singing. I imagine my body lying on the padded platform, no metal table this time, my skin a painting of pink and red and my pussy a pale target. I feel Victor lean over me, his pale head at my collarbone, dragging down my breasts. His tongue probes my belly button, and I let out a long, low groan. The barest amount of penetration feels so damn good.
