Page 52 of The Enslaved Duet
I stayed quiet as he brought something soft as kitten fur against my chest and ran it down between my breasts and over my tummy to the apex of my thighs.
“As I was saying, this scene isn’t about pain. It’s about discovering all the delicious ways you can be made to come. I’m going to flog you, and then I’m going to do just that, settle between your thighs and feast until you orgasm on my tongue.”
“That sounds painful,” I whispered hoarsely around the instinctive fear in my throat. “Haven’t you taken enough from me?”
“It will make your skin sing for me,” he promised silkily as he ran the tendrils over my limbs in feather-light passes. “If you can stay quiet for me, I may let you have another phone call next week.”
“Manipulation and orgasms won’t endear me to you,” I snapped at him even as my nipples pebbled with unfurling lust.
“That would be a first,” he commented drily and thensmack.
The flogger landed like hundreds of bee stings against my breasts.
I gasped like a woman possessed, and I felt it as he continued to bring the flogger down onto my flesh, as if a mindless spirit made for sin had overtaken my mind.
I loved it.
The soft swish of air as the leather came down on my skin and the gentle snap like the sound of sparklers as it set fire to my skin.
Before long, I was writhing, my mouth panting.
Every inch of my skin felt alive with sensation, and my mind felt bright in my head. If I hadn’t been tied down, I would have floated off the bed.
“Look at all that gorgeous skin turning rose gold for me,” Alexander murmured an interminable amount of time after he started.
There was a thump as he dropped the flogger to the ground and then one of his hands was pressing hard into my breast bone as the other hooked firmly inside my sex and unerringly found that knot of nerves on my front wall.
He curled his fingers hard into my flesh, and it felt like a key entering a lock.
I burst open, my cum crashing against his fingers, my spirit colliding with magnetic force to the potency of his hold over me, the pillar of strength he represented at that moment when everything else about me, around me, was lost.
His name was on my tongue and caught between my teeth, looped like a broken record in my voice box. I loved the taste of it, curling my lips over the vowels and biting hard into the consonants. It was as erotic and dangerous as Eve’s forbidden fruit.
Even as I reeled with sensation, the rational part of my brain recognized that now I’d had a taste for such dark delights, there might not be any going back.
“Such a good slave,” Alexander praised as he played his fingers in the wet pool between my thighs, the sucking, slippery sounds completely obscene in the midnight silence. “I’ll give you a pass on speaking because you say my name so beautifully.”
I panted softly as he ducked below my line of sight and returned with something that glinted dully in the low light.
“This will hurt,” he said and then his fingers were pinching my clit.
A growl of pain wedged itself into my throat as he clamped my swollen sex, already so sensitive from one orgasm. The flash of bright pain grew roots that curved around my inner thighs, arrowing into my sex and my buttocks where they throbbed and spasmed with constant life.
I wriggled and moaned against the cuffs, but they didn’t yield.
“This is your fourth lesson,topolina,” Alexander said over the rush of blood in my ears. “How to take your pleasure from the pain.”
He stood, looming over me as he looped a shimmering strand of metal between his hands. “These are nipple clamps. Are you ready for them?”
“You sadistic bastard,” I ground out.
A flash of light in the dark that was his wolfish grin. “I am a sadist. Just as you are a masochist.”
“A fanabla.” I cursed him to hell, and the devil laughed like it was a blessing.
“If you come in less than five minutes with these vicious clamps on those sinful breasts, I will make a liar of you yet,” he promised darkly.
I watched his shadowed head as he leaned over, biting at one nipple while his fingers plucked at the other as if it was a flower. When the tips of my breasts were red as poppies, he clamped those metal teeth over each point and kissed away my groans of pain.
