I get nervous hearing his footsteps retreat, my fingers curling into fists. I test my restraints, and when it hits me that I really can’t move, my breaths turn ragged.
Caleb’s in front of me in a flash, peering into my eyes from the other side of the cross.
“Hey, hey. What was that?”
My lips twitch up into a strained smile.
“Nothing, S—Sir. Just being silly.”
His brown eyes are steady, solid, like the ground in an ancient forest.
“You’re safe. And you can stop this at any time. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, my voice stronger. “I’m alright. Promise. Sir.”
He’s so darned handsome when he smiles. But I do also miss the mask—guess I’m a little freak.
Caleb holds up a flogger with lots of long, soft-looking strands. “I’ve been dreaming about painting your skin pink with this since the first time I saw you.”
My pussy clenches from both apprehension and exhilaration. He spanked me with my hairbrush or with his hand, but this is the first time we’re using something like this. It somehow feels more real.
Caleb doesn’t wait for my response—he skirts the St. Andrew’s cross, caressing my skin with the flogger as he goes.
“A little warm-up first,” he murmurs loud enough for me to hear him.
The soft strands land on my back with a swish and crack, just hard enough for me to feel them. I flinch in surprise anyway, a loud gasp coming out of my mouth.
“How does that feel, Basia?” Caleb asks in a voice that makes my stomach flutter.
“It feels good, Sir,” I reply without hesitation.
Instead of answering, he swings again, this time aiming thevelvety strands at my ass. I twitch, my hips rocking forward only to be stopped by the padded cross.
The next hit lands on the other cheek, harder this time, the sting sharper.
We fall into a rhythm of swishing air and him checking in quietly, my back and ass soon hot and tingling, my mind growing hazier by the second. Caleb isn’t making me count, and I lost track of time, of the number of lashes. It turns into a comforting ritual, predictable only in the way that I know the next lash will come, I know it’ll feel sharp at first, then good—so good.
The next time he pauses to check on me, he runs his fingers over my folds, and I moan at the touch. I’ve never felt so sensitive before. Everything feels more powerful—the sensations against my skin, the smell of wood and leather, and Caleb, and sex.
“You’re soaked,” he murmurs into my ear. He presses his front against my back, the fabric of his clothes somehow both soft and scratchy against my overheated skin. “My girl enjoyed that.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper, my voice sounding like it’s coming from far away.
“I know,” he says conversationally, his breath stirring my hair. “Everyone saw how much you loved it. You’ve drawn quite the crowd.”
“Oh…” I breathe. A part of me feels shy. But I’m mostly just… floating. Cozy despite hanging off restraints.
“Would you like to be fucked now, Basia?”
Caleb’s crude words remind me of the ache between my legs.
“Yes. Please. Sir,” I add in a rush, making him laugh nearly soundlessly.
“Brace,” he murmurs, his deft fingers going to the clasps. He releases my ankles first, then my wrists, positioning my hands so I can hold on to him and not tip over. He picks me up,bridal style, and carries me to the plush bed, gently laying me down.
“Do you know what Shibari is, darling?” Caleb asks like we’re talking about weather preferences and not bondage.
I gulp, blinking at him, trying to focus. “Yes, Sir. I know what Shibari is.”
