Page 26 of Toy Shop

I’ll do anything to satisfy him. I point the head of the vibrator to my crotch; the quivers thrumming on my clit; the tremors swarming in a tingle up my spine.

“That’s it. Right there, baby.” His husky praise and attention to my pussy encourage me further.

I got this, I repeat in my head, reminding myself Alistair won’t take what he doesn’t ask. He’s clear, he’s honest, he’s honorable even in his brutal handling of me.

I got this.

The head of the vibrator sinks in first, my juices helping suck in the rest of it.

“Jesus,” I hardly breathe, absorbing the fullness of it. The rabbit’s ears flicker on my clit, the thrumming on my sensitive mound making my knees buckle.

I haven’t come in forever, not to mention twice a night. The once-in-a blue moon orgasm was usually the result of a wet dream since my subconscious couldn’t tolerate my abstinence a second longer.

Which results in trepidation on top of the heightened sensations. And I stop.

Alistair, on the other hand, is not aware of my fear, or he’s hell-bent on fighting me on it. A smack on my right butt cheek, louder and far more searing than the harsh ones he’s submitted before, jolts me to the here and now.

The paddle’s bite is sharp, a million bees assaulting my butt all at once, sinking their sting under my tender skin. I’m disturbingly thrilled by their metaphorical poison, and no vibrator or another orgasm scare me anymore.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Alistair thunders. He’s not mad. He gets off on hurting me but not putting me down where I can’t get up.

I’m learning another lesson in our time together other than using the sex toys: Alistair’s games are twisted, aimed for a dangerous sort of pleasure, and never forgiving.

Or patient.

Smack, smack. Pause. Smack, smack, smack, smack.

I cry out because he demanded me to. I move because his strikes jolt me. The ridges of the vibrator’s wand slide in and out of me, gliding along my walls. The rabbit’s ears pulsate against my clit like two fingers playing with it.

The movement resembles what Alistair taught me. His thrashing of my ass is a turn-on I’m still experiencing seconds after the paddle hit my butt last. For fuck’s sake, I’m supposed to know how to do it.

But it’s not happening.

“Something’s off.” His observation alerts me as to how attentive he is to me. “You’re not playing right. Your screams should’ve burst my fucking windows by now.”

My head bobs, my body on edge, expecting him to fling my ass, to order me to do better. And he does.

A sequence of six slaps to the bottom of my ass agonizes and arouses me in equal measures to the sound of Alistair’s commands.

“Faster, Nola,” he goes. “Deeper, Nola,” he insists.

I turn my head to him, looking at the present moment while my heart is captured by the past. “It’s not working.”

“Who’s in charge of you?” He clutches my chin in his thumb and forefinger.

My eyes are watery, the fear paralyzing.

“Nola.” He scans my face, registering my emotions. “I don’t know what happened to you. What I know is, here and now, it can’t hurt you. In this house, in this room, I hold the key to your safety, and I will have you teetering on that edge of insufferable pain, but I will never under any circumstance allow anything or anyone to damage you. This is a place where you’ll be built back anew and give your traumas such a sonorous fuck you, they’ll run right to the hole they crept out of.”

How he analyzes me like this by simply looking at me is beyond me. But he does, and I believe him. Better yet, I follow him.

“Okay.”

He permits himself to mold his lips into mine, then he surprises me. “Let me.”

His firm hand wraps around my wrist, directing me to go faster, in circles, tilting the vibrator up to where it lands on the spot to make my eyes roll up to the heavens.

“I’m so fucking hard watching you fuck yourself, but I want to see your cunt clenching. Can you do that for me? Can you fuck yourself just right until you come all on your own?”

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