Page 49 of His to Keep
He steps behind me, preventing me from seeing what he’s doing, but I assume he must press the button to turn the light outside our room to green. Only a moment later, I hear the sound of the door opening, and then the low murmur of voices. People are coming in.
Heat rushes through my body bringing a flush to my cheeks and a terrible pulsing to my center. I have no idea why I like this so much—why the idea of being watched is such a turn on. Or why the fact that I’m bound and helpless only heightens the sensation. I feel exposed and vulnerable as more and more people make their way into the room. A few come close, walking around me like I’m nothing more than a piece of flesh to be desired. I hear them talking about me, not bothering to lower their voices as they comment on the roundness of my tits or the shape of my ass.
“May I touch?” a man to my left asks. I cast him a quick glance through my lowered eyelashes and see that he’s not looking at me for permission. Instead his eyes are on Luke. My master. Another rush of heat goes through me as I realize that the man is asking his permission, not mine, because tonight, for right now, I belong to Luke. I’m nothing more than his possession, his toy to show off.
A shiver runs down my spine. I probably shouldn’t like that. I probably shouldn’t crave this objectification. But I decided a long time ago that I was done questioning these desires. Instead, I just enjoy the feeling of being so completely owned by this man I’ve fallen for.
“The skin of her belly,” Luke says, a slight warning bite in his tone. “Nowhere else.”
I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed that he didn’t give permission for the man to touch my needier places. I wonder how much of a struggle this is for him, how strong his jealousy is getting. I almost want to call the whole thing off, but the fact that he’s still doing this, just to make me happy, sends such a strong wave of affection through me that I would probably go weak kneed if my master wasn’t so good with his restraints.
Light fingers trace over my belly and I can’t hold in the sigh. “Beautiful skin,” the man says. “So soft.”
I feel hot breath on my ear and stiffen, momentarily thinking one of the strangers has gotten that close. But the rush of awareness that always accompanies Luke’s nearness kicks in just a moment later. “Should I tell him how much softer your sweet cunt is?”
Oh holy God. I can’t handle him talking like that, not on top of everything else. Being suspended and displayed like this is already sensory overload without my master’s deliciously dirty mouth added to the mix.
“If you want to, Master,” I whisper. His responding chuckle sends chills down my arms.
“Good girl.”
He lets the strangers get their fill of looking at me before clearing his throat. “Thank you for being here,” he says to the suddenly silent crowd. “My lovely, dirty girl seems to like it when people watch. I’m sure you’ve all helped to make her sweet little pussy nice and wet for me.”
I bite my lip to keep from groaning. I love every filthy word.
“As for me, I’m eager to make sure every person at this club is well aware of the fact that I own her, body and soul. I’d like it if you all stayed while I demonstrate.”
The people around me drift away a little, but they don’t go far. Luke is still behind me and I hear soft noises while he prepares. Not knowing what he’s going to do to me is part of the fun, but I still allow myself a slight squirm in my bonds as I imagine the possibilities.
There’s a sudden soft whistling noise, my only warning at what’s to come. It happens so fast I don’t have time to tense up—his objective, I’m sure. I hear the crack of the thin cane against my ass before the sensation of the strike registers. Then the pain comes roaring in, white hot and stinging. I bite back a yelp. Apparently, my master has decided I don’t need time to build up tonight.
His second strike comes before I’ve had a chance to suck in a full breath, every bit as biting and sharp as the first.Patience, I tell myself, knowing I need to give the endorphins time to flood my system before the pain starts to feel good.A few more. Patience.
Sure enough, a few stinging blows later, I start to feel that familiar rush. The line between pain and pleasure is so thin for me, the two building off each other in a perfect harmony that lights me up inside the way nothing else ever has. The knowledge that this perfect, delicious pain is coming from him—from this man I’m falling so deeply in love with. This man I give myself to, fully. Knowing that he gets the same rush I do, that he lives to own and control me—all of that heightens the pleasure to the point I’m sure I won’t be able to stand it much longer.
“What do you think?” Luke asks the crowd, sounding slightly out of breath. “Is she good and warmed up?”
Warmed up? In what universe was that a warm up? Usually he’ll use his palm or a lightly stinging crop if he wants to warm me up. A cane is pretty far up the list of painful implements.
Apparently, he has something even more intense in mind. The crowd chuckles and murmurs appreciatively, a few commenting on the redness of my ass. And then there’s a new sound in the room, a sharper whistle in the air. This time, I don’t manage to hold in my yelp. The bite of leather is just too intense.
This is it, the other thing I once told him was a hard limit. I hated whips when Aden used them on me. But with Luke, it feels different. Everything feels different. But especially these things—suspension, whipping—that used to scare me, they take on a whole new meaning under Luke as my dominant. I want to stretch my limits with him, want to try new things and feel new things. Knowing that I’m not in danger, that he’ll stop whenever I want, that he’ll never give me more than I can handle—it makes all the difference.
He pauses before the next strike. “How do you feel?”
“Green,” I tell him without pause, even though my ass is totally stinging from the whip and the cane before it.
“Excellent.”
He gives me three more, all in quick succession, and I marvel at how good he is at that. Using a whip without causing real damage is difficult and requires great control. His competence at this, as well as everything else, turns me on like crazy. I wonder if he can smell my desire—I’m practically dripping down my legs.
The next strike is a little harder, the one after that even worse. I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. The seventh strike makes me bite down so hard I taste a trace of blood.
Red,my mind yells at me.Red, red, red.
But I don’t use my safe word. I’m the one who promised I could do this. The idea of finishing it before Luke is ready, especially in front of all these people, makes me feel sick. I want to please him, want to make him proud more than anything.
Tears are streaming down my face on the eighth strike, but still I hold it in.Make him proud,I beg my diminishing control.Don’t disappoint him.I try to find that calm, happy place in my mind. The place that helps me ignore everything else, that helps me slip away into peace. Immediately, Luke’s face comes to my mind, the way he had looked, so serious and gentle, when we talked about limits the first night we were together.
