“You love it.”
“Yes, I do!” Ivy yelped out the words as the strand caught her on the shoulders.
As the beat of the floggers hit her skin repeatedly, she closed her eyes, her muscles relaxed, except for her pelvic floor, which was clenched, needy and waiting.
She rocked forward as the tips of the strands brushed against her ass.
“Ahh! Yes, more!”
The strands caught her across her lower back.
Her skin was hot, and her hands clammy. The pain rocketed through her mind, firing all her nerve endings.
The lashes fell like a steady rainfall, and her usually crowded headspace stopped, coming to a place of stillness.
Only the slap of leather on her flesh. Only her Dom’s voice.
“That’s a good girl. Look how you hunger for my lash.”
She moaned low in her throat, arching back.
And his floggers landed. One, two and three, hard and fast, so hard that it took her breath away. Five, six and seven, making her hiss through her teeth.
“So fucking pretty.” Gabe’s fingertips traced the raised stripes on her back. Ivy shuddered. Walking in front of her, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Good girl. I love the marks these have left.”
Ivy grew warm, loving how he looked at her. Leaning into his touch as his hand glided along her cheek.
“Now your front.”
“Sir! I can’t.”
“I say youcan. Are you wet for me, Princess?”
“Find out.” She wiggled her hips at him, spreading her feet apart.
He dragged the flogger around her shoulder, over the swell of her breasts. “Hold these for me.”
Ivy opened, clamping her lips over the flogger’s handle. He settled the other between her chin and shoulder.
“There’s a useful submissive,” Gabe purred.
Ivy gushed. Gabe made her so happy, and he knew exactly what she needed when he wasn’t stuck in his head.
She sucked in a breath, watching as he went to his toy bag, took something out and strode back to her.
He smiled, plucking the flogger from her mouth.
“Give me that tongue.”
Ivy stuck her tongue out.
He snapped on a clothespin. “That’s better. Can’t sass now, can we?”
She glared at him, a thrill of delight and desire churning low in her pelvic floor.
“Answer me.”
She swallowed, knowing wetness ran between her thighs. “No, Sir,” she spat out, mumbled and intelligible because of the clothespin on her tongue.
