Chapter 1 #2
“Stop right there,” Kate didn’t bother to look at him as she stroked the handle of a big suede flogger she had found in the drawer on top of the rope.
She had seen him use it countless times, but had he ever experienced it?
The flogger firmly in her hand, Kate reached in the drawer for a coil of rope and turned.
Chris stood a few feet from his bed, his eyes on her with an expression she had never seen before.
His face reflected determination but also vulnerability and something else she couldn’t decipher.
It made her want to push him, take care of his needs, and make love to him.
Could he stand to let her dominate him for one night?
“‘Red’ work for you?” she inquired, referring to the standard safeword used in the BDSM community.
His eyes widened a fraction, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Red is fine, Mistress.”
Kate’s pussy dampened with the honorific. The word was dear to her, but to have it come from his lips added something special. Kate dropped the rope on the bed and shook out the flogger. She bit back a smile as Chris’s attention seemed riveted on the strands.
“Ever been flogged?”
Chris nodded, Kate raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated. “As part of my training, I experienced most of what I do to my subs.” His subs. The words threw her off balance, a reminder that he was a Dominant and not a submissive.
“Flogging, bondage, and sex okay?” A pleasant tingling started at the base of her neck, slid down her body like a lover’s caress, and her pulse quickened.
Chris looked down and smirked. She followed his gaze.
His cock stood proudly from a neatly trimmed nest of hair, his heavy sack dangling between his legs—taunting her.
Her mouth watered as she fantasized about genital torture.
I want to bind his cock with rope and hang weights from his balls.
Put him in a chastity cage and make sure this thing of beauty is mine.
A drop of pre-cum shone at the tip, drawing her gaze to the tiny slit.
Her breasts ached, and her nipples hardened so fast the areolas puckered against her bra.
A pity she didn’t have her sounding kit with her—she would have loved to torture him with urethral play.
Chris stepped to her side and cupped her cheek. “Why the sad look?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Already topping from the bottom, imp?”
He squinted at her for a moment before shaking his head. “No, Mistress. Please forgive me.”
Oh, the sweet taste of submission.
“I consent to flogging, bondage, and sex, but could you please hurry before I embarrass myself by blowing my load?”
Kate shot out her hand, cupped his sack, and yanked.
Chris moaned and threw back his head. Kate maintained the pressure on his balls as she leaned forward to suck on his neck until he shuddered.
With a firm but playful tug to his sack and a nip at his neck, she let go.
“Go stand at the cross with your back to me and hold on.”
Chris obeyed without hesitation, stepping into position at the cross. The wood was solid beneath his palms and sanded to a perfect patina. He let his forehead rest against his forearm in a quiet need to settle into himself.
He felt her eyes on him before he felt her touch.
Awareness slid over his skin like heat, the knowledge that she was looking, assessing, and claiming the moment.
He was used to being the claiming party, but here with Kate submitting felt like the most natural thing in the world. The floor beneath his bare feet seemed to soften.
A faint shift of air warned him she had stepped closer. Her foot nudged between his ankles in a silent command. He widened his stance immediately. His mind didn’t balk.
Yes. Like this.
He startled when she placed her hand on his shoulder and glided it down his back from to his buttocks, slow and thorough. He exhaled and his muscles relaxed. She was learning him with her palm, mapping muscle and tension, warming him under her touch.
“Anything medical I need to know?”
His breath deepened without effort. “No, Mistress.”
Every place she passed over seemed to wake and then soften.
He did not feel inspected.
He felt known.
She stepped away and he resisted the urge to turn around and watch her. He wasn’t in charge.
The faint whisper of leather strands moving through her fingers reached him, followed by a subtle shift in the air. His body reacted before his mind did, anticipation tightening low in his belly.
The first strike landed across his shoulder, a bright line of sensation that pulled a sigh from his lungs. The second followed on the other side, mirroring the first. The rhythm built, measured and deliberate, the figure-eight pattern flowing over his back.
Each impact bloomed into warmth. His muscles flexed, then released. He was dimly aware of how hard she had to work to reach through his build, but instead of pride, what filled him was a quiet appreciation. She was putting herself into this. Into him.
He let himself lean into the sensations, not chasing them, not bracing against them. Just receiving. Trusting her aim, her knowledge, and her care. The world narrowed to the sound of leather, the steady thud of his pulse, and the slow expansion and release of his breath.
By the time the strokes moved lower, across his ass, his mind had gone quiet in a way it rarely did. No plans. No performance. No need to direct or impress. Just the steady presence of his body and the certainty of her behind him.
When the final stroke landed, heat spread wide and deep. Then the flogger fell away, and her body came flush against his back.
That undid him more than the impact had.
Her warmth lined up with his, chest to back, skin to skin. He tightened his grip on the cross. The closeness made something inside him swell too fast, too full. His breathing slowed, deepened, drawn into the rhythm of hers.
“You’re a good boy.”
The praise sank into him like warmth into chilled hands.
He did not question or resist it. He let it settle and belong. A small, quiet satisfaction spread through his chest. He was doing this right. Giving her what she wanted. And she valued it.
“You can let go of the cross.”
He released his grip at once, arms heavy but relaxed at his sides.
“Turn around.”
He turned to face her, the movement a bit sluggish. The air slid over his groin, and he felt exposed, yes, but not self-conscious. Her gaze dropped, and he followed it a heartbeat later, seeing his own arousal, hard and insistent.
Her attention went straight to his groin. His erection jutted from his body, the tip almost reaching his navel. More pre-cum made the head and shaft glisten in the overhead lights. He was a gorgeous man, and Kate took her time to look her fill. “Go lie on the bed, face-up, arms and legs spread.”
Chris did as ordered, and Kate slowly circled the bed, methodically tying each limb to one of the rings.
“Test the bonds for me.” She ran a teasing nail from his armpit to his hip, and Chris tugged against the ropes. “You’re not going anywhere.” Moisture from her arousal trickled down her leg.
Kate made quick work of shedding her shoes and clothes. She struggled to remember. “Condom?”
“Nightstand.” Chris’s voice sounded strained.
Kate opened the nightstand and found a package of tissues, nipple clamps, a vibrator, and a box of extra-large condoms. She placed the treasures beside his head and sucked his nipple into her mouth.
Men’s nipples were harder to clamp but just as much fun to tease as women’s.
Kate toyed with his balls and latched onto the other nipple.
She lifted her head and held the clamp for him to see.
“Ever felt one?”
Chris shook his head. “Not where you’re going to use it. I’ve had them on my finger.”
She smiled wickedly. “Oh, they’re going to feel completely different this time!”
Kate fastened the first clamp on his right nipple and watched his face as she relaxed her fingers, allowing increasing pressure. His eyes widened, and he pulled his arms against the ropes when she let go of the clamp. She cocked her head. “Okay?”
He groaned as he lifted his head, trying to see. “Fuck!”
He was so much fun to play with! “Wait until they come off.”
Chris groaned even louder and flopped his head back onto the bed.
Without any preamble, Kate clamped his left nipple then rolled the condom onto his straining cock.
Even with the added lubrication of his pre-cum, the fit was tight—extra-large indeed.
She couldn’t wait to feel him inside her and abandoned the idea of more torture.
Kate straddled his hips and lowered herself onto his shaft.
His length and girth created a fantastic stretch, but there was more to it than that.
Why was having him inside different? She’d had great sex before.
Maybe not all the men were as well hung as Chris, but there were skillful lovers with functioning dicks.
Being with him slaked a need she hadn’t noticed before.
Her pussy pulsed around his length, no longer wanting to be denied its pleasure.
Kate lifted herself and slammed down hard.
Chris bucked and released a strangled, drawn-out, “Fuck!”
As if she had received an invitation, she fucked him hard as she locked eyes with him. His pupils dilated with the black pushing away the blue-grey color she loved, and he started to close his eyes.
“Look at me,” she ordered, and he strained to keep them open.
“Can’t!” he gasped.
“You can and you will,” she declared. “You’re going to watch me fuck myself into an orgasm on your cock. How far are you?”
“Getting close.” He groaned.
“Not before I come!”
“Never.”
Kate steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder, keeping a steady pace as she impaled herself on him again and again.
The other hand drifted between their bodies, slow and sure, chasing the pulse that had been building for too long to ignore.
Their bodies found a quiet rhythm. Every glide drew a soft breath from her lips, every rise and fall a reminder that she was not alone in this.
He was right there with her, meeting her thrust for thrust.
Pleasure crested as a deep, rolling wave that stole her voice and left only his name on a trembling exhale.
She folded around him, her pussy fluttering on his hard cock, clinging to the sensation as it shimmered through her.
He followed a heartbeat later, groaning against her skin, his arms tightening as if to keep them suspended in glowing aftermath.
Kate slumped on his body as she caught her breath, his cock still inside her. Chris gave a low moan as Kate continued to spasm around him.
She gathered her strength and pushed herself off him. Chris opened one eye. “Fuck, woman, I want to do that again, but I think you broke me.”
She arched her brow as she stroked one hand on his sternum and shook her head. “No, I didn’t, but I’m going to hurt you before I release you from the ropes.”
He frowned, and she removed the first clamp.
“Fuck!” he roared.
Kate pressed her hand on the nipple to alleviate the pain while she drank in his agonized expression. With sadistic anticipation she alerted him, “Here comes the next.”
His long, “No,” ended on a moan as she sucked his abused nipple into her mouth to soothe his pain.
After she untied him, Chris took care of the condom and pulled her into his arms. She needed to talk with him, but tired from the wedding, dancing, and mind-boggling sex, Kate fell into a deep slumber and didn’t wake until the next morning.