Page 10 of Dominate Me

Chapter Four

Haley

I had never been so turned on in my life. The sensual atmosphere of the entire club had made me coiled tight like a wire about to snap since I’d first been touched by Master Dylan.

Being touched by Jensen was a completely different experience. Where Master Dylan touched me with respect and kindness, Jensen’s touch sent thrills of attraction and lust shooting directly to my core. My panties were wet. Sweat trickled down my spine. Every step sent more nerves running like madness and doing flips in my stomach.

Jensen’s hand on my back centered me amidst the insanity.

The first room we entered had low thumping beats, like bongo drums that were beating a rhythm but not necessarily a song. At least not one I’d ever heard before.

Immediately, my attention was pulled to the hiss of a whip. My stomach convulsed with a heady need as that hiss turned into the sound of leather meeting flesh.

Yes.

I turned toward the center of the room where the playing was occurring, only to have my feet frozen to the carpet.

In front of me, there was a woman strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed at the top and the bottom. While I’d seen these crosses in my online searches, I’d expected to see her facing the cross, her bare backside exposed to the group of watchers that had gathered in the room. Instead, her naked front was on full display, hot pink marks across her breasts and stomach. Jensen and I were apparently late to the show and I frowned, thinking of what we’d missed.

“Her name is Miranda,” Jensen whispered in my ear, making me jump in surprise. “She loves to be whipped, if you can’t tell.”

I could tell. My breath grew shallow as my gaze trailed over the red welts lining her abdomen as well as her breasts. And my goodness, there were red strips against the tops of her thighs and around her cleanly shaved mound.

A man standing close to Miranda reared back his arm holding what looked like a flogger before he landed two quick strikes, one on each of her breasts.

My hands balled into fists and my body warmed and my pussy clenched. From fear, excitement, from wanting it, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Wetness grew into my panties as the woman’s body reacted to the sting and bowed toward the man, as if she was seeking more. Her eyes glazed into blissful awareness when more strikes landed on her breasts. With another quick whip of the man’s hand, he flicked the flogger downward and it slashed across her exposed mound.

My clit buzzed as if I was the one tethered to the cross.

“You like this,” Jensen said from behind me. His hand on my lower back had moved to my hip and then to the front of my stomach. I hadn’t realized he’d been touching me at all until his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of my rounded stomach. “He’s using a leather flogger with flower-tipped ends. The ends dig slightly into the skin, giving a stronger stinging sensation than a plain flogger.”

My breathing quickened.

The man set down the flogger and came back with clamps.

My nipples tightened.

He twisted the clamp until he was sure it fit correctly, or maybe too snug, based on the way Miranda breathed through the pain and her jaw tightened. After he repeated the move, her blissful but pained expression morphed into euphoria.

When I masturbated, I pinched and twisted my nipples until the point of pain, but never had I experienced anything like this woman in front of me.

Jensen’s tight voice returned to my ear. “You didn’t answer my question, Haley.”

What had he asked? Oh, well, technically, it hadn’t been a question. “Yes, sir. I like watching this.”

“Is it the act of watching, or what’s occurring?”

I thought of being on that cross, naked for everyone to see, and if I’d like dozens of strangers’ eyes on me.

“I think it’s more the action, sir, the clamping and flogging.” Wetness dripped down my thighs. God, was I discussing being flogged? My nipples clamped? It was so forbidden and at the same time so natural. No one in this room was watching us. No one cared what I did. “The watching, I don’t know if I could relax enough to enjoy it, sir.”

I turned my head toward him. He’d talked about us reading each other’s nonverbal cues and I wanted to see his eyes.

Downstairs they’d been a dark blue. In the dim light, they looked as endless as the ocean, inseparable from the pupils. “You would. In time, after practice, you would absolutely love being watched.”

He spoke as if he knew me, and I liked it so much I didn’t ask him why he thought that would be true.

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