Page 132 of Filthy Dirty Dom

“Do it, Leslie. And don’t hold back.”

One last hesitation, then the whispering sound of the cat o' nine tails cut through the silence before he felt the bite of it, a hiss escaping his lips as the leather struck against his bare back, fanning out in a burst of stinging sensation that had him gritting his teeth.

"Alex?" Leslie's voice was tight with concern. "Too much?"

He sucked in a breath, his lungs expanding as he processed the pain, then slowly released it, allowing the endorphins to surge, to transform the sting into a sweet thrill that rushed through his veins.

"No," he gasped out, his voice thick with satisfaction. "It's perfect. More."

The hiss and bite repeated, again and again at his urging, each stroke leaving its mark on his skin, a testament of her love for him and his surrender. The pain was an exquisite burn, a purifying fire that consumed him, transformed him, grounding him in the moment.

Each stroke was a shockwave that rocked him, a thunderclap of sensation that coursed through his veins, lighting him up from the inside.

He let himself drown in it, in the feel of the whip, in the sound of his arousal and sweat filling the room. He felt alive, more present and connected than he ever had before. This was his surrender, his trust. His gift to Leslie, and to himself.

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The raw power that coursed through Leslie's veins as she wielded the cat o' nine tails was intoxicating but only because its source was pure love for the man asking her to do it. Every strike she delivered was a manifestation of her trust in him and his in her, a declaration of the intimacy they shared. This was them. This was their dance. This was their power exchange.

And yet, within the heady exhilaration of it all, she felt an incredible sense of safety. With Alex, she was protected. Even in this vulnerable position, of having to give him pain when the idea was so foreign to her, she trusted him implicitly. He was her rock, her confidant, her sanctuary.

She raised the cat o' nine tails for what felt like the hundredth time, his back crisscrossed with red stripes but no blood—she could never hit him hard enough to draw blood. Alex’s voice stopped her.

"Flour," he breathed out, raw and ragged. "Take me down."

The whip fell from her hand, dropped onto the floor, forgotten as she hurried to release him from the restraints. The moment he was free, he spun around, his eyes ablaze with a fierce desire that stole her breath away. In one swift motion, he lunged at her, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.

His mouth crashed down on hers, the taste of him intoxicating. His arms slid around her, hoisting her up until her legs were wrapped around his waist. She clung to him, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck as she melted into the kiss.

His hand slipped between them, guiding himself to her entrance. A moan caught in her throat as he filled her, stretching her deliciously. Alex was an exquisite blend of strength and tenderness, and every movement, every stroke, was a testament to that.

He pressed her against the wall, his hips snapping against hers in a rhythm that was nothing short of primal. Their shared moans echoed around them. She was losing herself in him, in the way he felt, in the way he moved, in the raw passion that flared between them. She'd never known anything like this. This was euphoria, this was surrender, this was love.

The wall against Leslie's back was nothing compared to the man in front of her. Every thrust, every movement was a visceral promise that Alex was there for her. She clung to him, legs tightly wound around his waist, the only point of contact being his cock in her pussy, his torso pressed to hers during their savage lovemaking. His powerful thrusts sent shivers of pleasure radiating through her body, her cries echoing in the dimly lit room.

"Oh, Alex…" she moaned into his ear, her voice shaking with the intensity of her pleasure. "Please… harder."

A growl rumbled in his chest, a primal sound that meant whatever vestige of control he still clung to was slipping. With a grunt, he pounded her harder, his movements becoming even more forceful, driving her higher and higher until the room began to spin.

"Look at me, Leslie," he commanded, his voice raspy. Their eyes met, creating an electric connection that vibrated through her very core. The raw, unchecked passion in his gaze threatened to unravel her. Slowly, he curled his fingers around her throat and lightly squeezed.

"I love you," he panted between breaths, his words striking her more fiercely than any whip. She gasped, his confession not surprising but unexpected.

"I love you, too," she managed to say, her heart pounding in her chest, her world narrowing down to the man who was both fucking her and making love to her with such intensity it left her breathless.

They were dancing, a beautiful, harmonious dance that only they knew the rhythm to. And with each step, they drew closer to the edge. She felt him everywhere, in the way his body filled hers, in the way his gaze seared into her soul, and in the way his words echoed in her heart.

Finally, it was only fitting that they climaxed together. They cried out in unison, their bodies convulsing, their hearts pounding in a synchronized rhythm that echoed their shared release.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, as if holding its breath, paying homage to the raw intensity of their love. They clung to each other, two bodies made one in the aftermath of their passion, their breaths mingling in the dim light.

As she buried her face in the crook of his neck, his hands moved to stroke her hair, his touch as tender as his gaze. "I love you," he whispered again, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you,” she said.

With their bodies still entwined, Alex gently lifted Leslie off him and away from the wall then carried her to the bed. The cool sheets beneath her were a stark contrast to the heat of Alex's body. She snuggled against him, her head finding its familiar spot on his chest. His heart beat in a rhythm that was becoming her favorite song.

She pressed a kiss to his chest, feeling him shudder beneath her. He responded by brushing a kiss to her forehead, his breath a warm, comforting presence against her skin.

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