Page 10 of Killian's Vengeance

I was so focused on watching him and feeling drugged with endorphins, I didn’t notice the moan bubbling up in my chest until it escaped my lips. I bit my lip to stop any other noises that might escape as his head jerked in my direction, his expression still forbidding.

What was wrong with me? Was his game to show me how depraved I was? I quickly buried my face in the mattress to hide my embarrassment, praying he wouldn’t notice my reaction and decide to do something more painful to me.

The slapping of the whip abruptly stopped, and I couldn’t help looking up to see what he was doing. He walked up and rubbed a rough hand across my scorched flesh, then shot me a hard glance, his green eyes skating over my features, focusing his eyes on where my teeth still clenched my lower lip in an attempt to control the unbidden sounds that were unfortunately, trying to escape my mouth.

His green gaze still held mine as his hand moved between my legs, sliding through the copious wetness that had gathered between them. I hissed and shoved my face back into the mattress, unable to tolerate the gloating look he would no doubt be sporting at my humiliation. One large finger slid up and swirled against my clit, causing me to emit a yelp, then groan of pleasure.

He clamped my clit between two fingers, then gave my backside another series of slaps with his hand, perhaps having thrown the whip to the floor or on the bed. I tensed and cringed, imagining the stinging slaps would be excruciating against the heated skin of my ass, but I was wrong—so, so wrong. There was something euphoric and titillating about the combination of his fingertips rolling my clit and his hand, big as a paddle, swatting again and again.

While I was attempting to merge myself into the mattress springs and pretend this wasn’t happening, unfortunately, my vagina had not received the message and it continued to press against his fingers, desperately seeking the pleasure those clamped fingers were teasing. My hips started to grind and lift, attempting to finish myself and end my torment, but my captor wasn’t having any of that.

He quickly pulled his hand away and I was chagrined to hear a groan of protest leave my lips as I once again buried my face in the mattress. Where was my dignity?

I braced myself, preparing for who knew what, but nothing happened. Nothing happened for so long, I once again glanced up only to find him staring either at my backside or between my legs, his hands in tight fists and his jaw clenched. I’d made him angry. Furious. I had no idea what I’d done.

I opened my mouth to say…I had no idea what.

“Don’t,” he said harshly and grabbed the wooden rod off the floor.

I shut my mouth and rested my head on the mattress simultaneously curious and terrified about what he was going to do with this new implement.

He pressed a strong hand against the lower part of my back, just below a welt he’d left earlier and just above my ass. What the hell was he doing? I twisted my head and saw him raise his hand with the wooden rod in it and slam it down on my ass.

Before I could register the pain completely, screams were already flying out of my mouth. I thought the first whipping had hurt, but it was nothing compared to the absolute burning agony of the wooden rod against my ass. It left a deep ache that felt like he’d taken a blow torch to my ass. As I saw his arm raise again, I twisted and screamed in an attempt to escape another strike.

“No, no, no, please. Oh god, please, I swear, I’m not Lily. Please, I’ll never be able to tell you anything no matter how many times you hit me with that thing. Please, please don’t hit me again, please,” I was crying and blubbering like a lunatic, my body in a weird state of shock from the pain of his last strike, my ass feeling practically blistered where he’d hit me.

He stared at me. He still looked angry, but he also looked speculative. His lips pressed together, and he threw the rod down on the bed and took a step back, as if I’d thrown him a curve ball by telling him I wasn’t Lily, though I already told him that many times before.

I opened my mouth to say it again, thinking maybe I was actually convincing him, but he frowned at me.

“Don’t say a word.”

I quickly shut my mouth, fearful he’d pick up the rod again. Before I could figure out what he was going to do next, he stomped to the door and stormed out.

Great, now I was lying here with my pants to my knees, no shirt, whipped, spanked, and hit with a wood rod.

At least I wasn’t turned on anymore.

Chapter 7

Killian

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I slammed open the office door and threw myself down on the couch, burying my face in my hands in frustration at my behavior.

My weakness.

When I’d returned to her, I’d been determined. Determined to make her suffer, determined to get her to talk, determined to end this shit. But watching her under the lash of the flogger, watching her squirm and pant, watching her strain and groan. It was un-fucking-bearable. It was my greatest turn on—watching a woman, bound and immobilized, respond against her will to pain and domination, to torment and control.

Particularly this woman, with her incredulously innocent responses and her embarrassed, uncontrolled reactions. God, I’d wanted to get her off while I spanked her, flogged her.

My dick was still rock hard as I thought about her red ass, about how she buried her shy, humiliated face in the bed when she realized how turned on the beating was making her. Why the fuck had I flogged her in the first place? It wasn’t exactly Torture 101. I knew many women found the flogger arousing—the sting, the heat, the vibration causing a storm of endorphins and adrenaline that blurred pleasure and pain, funneling that riot of chemicals straight into desperate lust.

Unable to stop myself, I unzipped my pants and grabbed my stiff cock, distracted by its constant throbbing. I squeezed it to try to get it under control, but soon images of her writhing on the bed, my fingers in her wet pussy, rubbing her eager little clit had me lightly stroking. Before long, I was beating off to the image of me spreading those legs and fucking her while I stared at and spanked her red-hot ass. My cock swelled and wept at fantasies that were reeling through my mind, fantasies of taking her into deeper, darker places. Of causing her pain and delight as my cock pounded into that tight as fuck pussy and owned it.

Goddamn. I came embarrassingly quickly. Shaking my head, I stared down at the mess I’d made on my stomach and reached over to grab some conveniently placed tissues to clean myself before zipping up.

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