Page 118 of Masked Sins
He doesn’t speak. His finger stops its delicate intrusion, and his hand comes to rest on my inner thigh as the other one falls to his side.
Apprehension fills me.
“Turn over.”
I swallow the dread climbing up my throat as I roll over onto my stomach. One of his hands pulls the hem of my dress up, exposing my thong and everything below my waist to him.
“I don’t tolerate dishonesty,” he says, his voice rough like gravel.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, voice trembling.
“And while we’re at it,” he continues, cutting me off, “spare me the apologies. They’re meaningless unless they’re genuine.”
Anger and embarrassment flush through me at his reprimand. “Itwasgenuine!”
He goes still, waiting. His eyes bore into mine, and silence fills the air. Embarrassment flashes through me, and the silence is deafening.
Heis in control—something I need to remember.
Hedecides what he gives me and how much.
Hedecides the rules.
“Please, Master. I’m sorry. Truly.”
He stands up without acknowledging my apology. I see him walk to the desk and pull something out.
“Because it’s your first time, I’m going to be nice and let you choose. Paddle or flogger?”
My whole body continues to throb with arousal. I can’t think—can’t rationally acknowledge the implications of either fully, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Paddle.”
“Mm. I hoped you’d say that.”
He pulls out a long black paddle. As he brings it over, I admire the craftsmanship. It seems to be made of fine, dark wood. The handle is braided with black leather and gold, and the flattened end of the paddle… has a raised R.
ForRavage.
“Choose a number. One through ten.”
“One,” I say immediately. It seems like the safest answer.
He uses one hand to lightly paddle the waiting palm of the other, and his tongue rolls against his cheek as he considers me. It’s playful and threatening all at once. A cruel smile is splayed across his face.
“Great. We’ll start with ten paddles. You only getonebreak.”
Well, that’s not the answer I was hoping for by choosing one…
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead, but I know arguing is futile. “Yes, Master.”
He sets the paddle on my back, and then he bends down to lift my legs, positioning himself underneath me.
My ass is in his lap, and my cheeks heat as his hands slowly run up and down the backs of my thighs.
“We’re still playing our game, Little Dancer. Ask me a question.”
He reaches for the paddle, but I can’t see what he’s doing. I feelsoexposed, so vulnerable.
