Chapter 32 #3
The leather ball slips between my lips. Declan uses it to pry my mouth open before I even realize I’ve let him. I’m still trying to work out what I’m responding to: the fear of him escalating, or some twisted desire to please him. I don’t know which is truer, and that’s the worst part.
Declan fastens the buckles behind my head, then fucking beeps my nose.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as I glare at him. He lets the flogger drop from beneath his arm, catching the handle, shaking loose the strands. Then he starts spinning it again.
My jaw’s forced open by the gag, uncomfortable already. The leather presses against my tongue. It’s humiliating, adding to my helplessness. Distracting me, and for that reason I don’t notice Declan has moved until he sweeps my braid over my shoulder. Then the strands start landing on my back.
Flick, flick, flick. Over and over, a steady rhythm. I tense, clenching on the gag. Yet it’s not as bad as I feared. At first, it’s nothing. Not even an irritation. It’s almost… soothing. A cascade of sharp-edged caresses from the strands, stroking across my skin.
The tingling grows, my skin stimulated, tormented.
And he’s right, damn it; with the gag in my mouth, I’ve nothing to do but focus on that feeling.
In minutes, it feels like my whole back and shoulders are so warm they must be glowing.
The flogger doesn’t cease, but moves to my ass and begins again.
Occasionally, he hits harder here, drawing a cry from me, muffled by my gag.
It’s still not true pain, but instead my whole body feels alive.
I realize I’ve stopped tensing, almost relaxing into it, and that seems to help.
My eyes are closed. Saliva drips from the gag onto my breasts, and I can’t stop that either.
At first, I don’t even notice when he stops.
My skin’s awake everywhere with a mild burn that doesn’t fade, and it’s like I can still feel phantom blows.
But I hear his bare feet on the mat, walking around me, and tense again. What’s next?
It doesn’t take long to find out. The flogger starts whirring through the air, and he’s in front of me.
Strands bite against my chest, my breasts, catching my nipples.
Just the ends of that damn suede, flicking repeatedly against my skin, but in moments my skin is prickling everywhere.
I can’t pull back, I can’t escape him. I realize I’ve been whimpering around my gag, and I’m not sure for how long.
He stops again, and my head slumps forward. A sheen of perspiration covers all of me.
How long has it been? I have no way to tell.
He unfastens the buckle of the gag, gently easing it out. My jaw’s sore.
“I want to hear your sounds,” he murmurs.
Then he touches me.
The back of his fingers, trailing over my breast.
I sob. I can’t help it. It’s so gentle, yet so sensitive. So caring, yet so cruel. The slightest touch, and my whole body tenses, like I’m pressing into his fingers for fear of missing any of the sensation.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
I don’t answer. Not because there’s any defiance left, but because I can’t find my words.
He leans in, licking once, twice, over my nipple. That’s both better and worse. I whimper.
There’s a click and a whir, and the ropes slacken off an inch, maybe two. Enough for me to ease my wrists, not more than that.
“Spread your legs for me,” he says.
My eyes flick open wide. He’s still holding the flogger. “No… Please.”
“What’s the package?”
I can’t answer. I don’t know what he wants me to say.
“Your resistance is so cute.” He looks at me as though I’m a recalcitrant puppy. “Spread your legs, as far as they’ll go, or I’ll get the spreader bar out and it’ll be ten times worse.”
The softness of his voice is the worst part. It’s like he’s fully in his element, and I don’t doubt for a moment that he’ll do what he says. There’s no point resisting, not when I’m so vulnerable to him.
Wincing, I ease my feet apart. Shoulder width is all I can manage before the ropes are once again pulling my wrists uncomfortably high.
“Good girl,” he says. “Just like that. Now, keep them open. Do I need to threaten you again?”
I give him a half shake of my head, glaring at him in silence.
He starts spinning that damn flogger. My eyes close, not so I can feel it more, but so I don’t have to watch.
I still jerk when the ends flick over my pussy, a gasp slipping out.
It stings, more sensitive than anywhere, and I’m grateful that he’s being gentle.
At least, I think he is. He hit my ass harder, but this still jolts more.
I try to count the impacts, if only to distract myself, but lose track after a dozen.
By then, I’m sobbing. It’s not pain, it’s the sheer helplessness of it, the intensity of it.
Every inch of my skin is thrumming, like all of me at once demands my attention.
The flogger hits the mat with a heavy thud that pulls my focus back to him, my eyes snapping open. What’s next on his sadistic menu?
“Are you awake to me, little hellcat?” His hand drops between my legs, and I’m not quick enough to press my thighs closed. I’m not even sure I want to.
His fingers glide between my folds, spreading my wetness around. And I’m so fucking wet. I hadn’t even realized how much, until he touched me there.
“Oh, you are,” he says. “Good. Now we can begin.”
A moan is the only answer I can give.