SIX #3
His hand moved faster as he pleasured himself, the tip of him glistening in the dim light.
The thumb of his other hand stayed poised over the ring, controlling the vibrations with cruel efficiency, dialling them up and down as if he were attuned to the exact rhythm of my body.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away – every stroke of his hand sent a filthy thrill through me – a raw pulse that tightened between my hips.
It was a need so violent, so sharp and liquid that it dragged a moan from my throat that had nothing – and everything – to do with the sensation the clip was causing.
He stopped. Fist stilling around his cock.
A slow click echoed – once – until the ring silenced the pulsing torment between my legs.
Air was a luxury.
Oh no…
The pause was worse than the rhythm.
‘What did I say?’ Soft as smoke. Twice as lethal.
I bit down on a whimper, eyes fluttering shut until I could feel my own tongue again. ‘Not to make a sound.’
He rose like something ancient – like a god unburied from the earth.
On his way, his hand dipped into the duffel, fingers closing around something I couldn’t see.
When he stepped towards me, the item stayed hidden behind his thigh.
My gut turned to ice.
Then to heat.
He stopped so close I could smell the leather in his hand.
Those obsidian contacts didn’t just hide him – they consumed him – consumed me.
‘Did you make a sound?’ he asked.
My lips parted, my breath trembling out.
‘Yes.’
Crack!
Round, tightly bound leather tails lashed across the swell of my thigh like a burning kiss that made my spine jolt.
Bright and wild, pain flared, then twisted into heat.
His hand curled around my chin, tilting my face up until I could see my own breath fogging the surface of his mask.
And I realised… it wasn’t the lash that stunned me – it was the hunger it left behind.
Sensations tangled until I couldn’t tell them apart: the sting, the heat, desire, desperation.
My thighs pressed together, but it was useless against the chains.
God…
I wanted more.
He dragged the flogger down my front this time, knowing exactly what he’d done – and what I was holding back. It moved slowly, letting each tail slither over my nipples like a caress – teasing and featherlight before falling softly to his side.
‘Punishment is an essential part of learning,’ he whispered.
I gave a soft nod, shame and desire melting into one slick ache between my legs.
‘I don’t want to hear a sound, Scarlett.’
Another bow of my head.
‘Yes, Ghost,’ he murmured.
‘Yes, Ghost.’
The tip of his fingers skimmed over my slickness – my head falling back, my mouth parting.
When he withdrew, I whipped my head down and saw him pulling the mask slightly off his mouth to lick off my juices.
I almost made another sound.
My body swayed with the absence of him, skin still humming where the flogger had kissed it. I wanted to collapse. I wanted to chase that high again. I wanted… more.
I heard the creak of leather as he sank back into the chair. Like a king settling into his throne. Like a predator contented to watch his prey squirm.
Then—
Click.
A single mechanical pulse echoed in the room.
And in my core.
The clip between my thighs came alive again. A cruel little thing hugging the most sensitive bundle of nerves. It vibrated with a steady, relentless rhythm.
I bit down on that first moan, my body arching towards the sensation, my thighs trembling.
The ticking sound that followed was the ring turning. The vibrations intensified. My breath stuttered.
When I dared to glance at him again, he was watching me with his legs spread, the flogger resting across his lap like a reminder.
A warning.
His hand was wound around his cock again, stroking with slow pulls.
Then he picked up the pace, muscles in his forearm flexing as his eyes remained locked on mine. The sight broke me – the forbidden rhythm, the glint of sweat on his skin, the vibration at my core a merciless drumbeat.
Watching him unravel like that, because of me, because he was fucking himself to the sight of me – every pulse sent a new shockwave through me.
As if his command was all I had been waiting for. My body obeyed before my mind could catch up, giving itself over completely to the sound of his hand, to the vibrations, to his control.
I bowed sharply, my thighs trembling as the pressure inside me finally broke.
A cry tore from my lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. It was overwhelming, consuming, the sort of release that left me shaky and breathless, draining my mind of all thought.
The pulsing stopped suddenly, leaving a tingling absence that made my body ache for more. But the waves still crashed over me, electricity burning into my nerves.
He let me breathe. He didn’t break the scene.
Before I could fully recover, I felt the bed shift beneath me, his weight sinking into the mattress as he climbed up behind me. My body stilled, every nerve lit up as his presence enveloped me.
His hand snaked around my throat, grounding me as his other hand clamped onto my hips, pulling me back against him. The heat of his body pressed into me, and then I felt it – his rigid length brushing against my core, the contact enough to reignite the fire burning low in my belly.
‘That’s my good girl,’ he murmured, voice low and rough, the mask muffling the edges but not the intent. The praise split me in two, dragging desire in its wake, pulling surrender like a thread from the base of my spine.
When he reached between my legs, my entire body jolted – the touch too much, too soon, nerves flaring like faulty wires.
A broken whimper slipped out, ‘Please, no… no, no, no…’
‘Shh, little angel…’ he breathed against my ear.
His fingers found the clasp, and as the metal slipped free, the aftershocks splintered what little strength I had left.
I sagged into the chains, undone.
‘Now, I’m going to do it the right way. And you will come for me again.’