Heat flushes my cheeks, but I quickly forget the embarrassment as Asbjörn continues, building the intensity once more, up and up.
“Are you ready for the next flogger?” he asks. “This one will hurt. Not badly—you’re warmed up—but it goes quite deep. I think you’re ready for it.”
I swallow and shift a little against the cross. But the movement is slow; all strength seems to have faded, leaving me hanging against the leather-bound frame, gripping the chains only to keep the cuffs from pulling too hard on my wrists.
I can’t even imagine stopping now. My whole body is in a pulsing state of desire. But the desire is not just sexual. Heat is swirling at my core and surging between my legs, but most of all, it’s the desire for more of that delicious heat that blooms in my skin with each strike of the flogger.
I’m about to say yes when steps sound somewhere in the distance. That’s when I notice there’s no more chatting or whispering in the background. It’s just the music. Self-consciousness rushes over me, and I squirm, my blurry brain suddenly spinning as I try to hone in on my surroundings. It takes a scary amount of effort, and unease creeps up on me as I realize where I am. Bound and vulnerable, alone in a strange new place with a man I’ve only met once before, and people watching.
“Wha—I-is someone here? Watching?” I try to turn my head, but Asbjörn steps behind me, blocking my view.
“Only one person is here. Everyone else has left. No big audience. Don’t worry. Just focus on me.”
No big audience.But thereisan audience?
I want to ask more questions and lean away and see. But then Asbjörn starts stroking my sides, my back, and my arms. The motion is firm but calm. Insistent in a way that draws all my focus and melts my very bones.
“What time is it?” I ask in a slurred voice. I feel drunk—only much better than alcohol-induced drunkenness.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be? An early day tomorrow?” Asbjörn asks close to my ear.
I scramble through the mess of my brain, then shake my head. “I’m just… I don’t know.”
“Do you need me to stop?”
“I don’t know. I—No. But…”
“I know it’s scary, but I’ve got you, Elina. You’re safe here. I’ll get you home tonight. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ve got you.”
His words hit straight into some instinctive part of me that craves to give in. Tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know why. I’m not sad. It’s just so overwhelming. And I want more—more of him and more of the flogger. More of this steady calmness that engulfs me in a warm hug.
It’s a struggle just to think. But I don’t think I should try. I’ve already been at the mercy of Asbjörn for a while, and I feel safe. More than I ever have anywhere else. It seems irrational. I’ve only known him for two nights total. But the steady and gentle way he handles me beckons me to give in and trust him.
So I do just that.
“I want to continue,” I say. “I’m scared, but I don’t want to stop.”
“What is your safeword?” There’s a slight rasp in his voice that seems to hint at something more.
It scares me, but drives my desire even so. “Raven,” I say.
“Good girl.”
I feel him turning his head—maybe nodding—and then the music becomes louder. I didn’t notice the music much before, but suddenly it’s all around me, the deep beats of the drums seeping into my bones like a second heartbeat. A surge of something powerful floods me. With a whimper, I slump against the cross in utter capitulation, accepting that neither my bodynor my mind wants control. So I let him have it. Asbjörn. The powerful Viking.
Asbjörn steps back, and I inhale deeply, steeling myself for the first strike with the heavy flogger. It lands with a force that reverberates through my entire body, pushing me into the cross and knocking a hard breath out of me.
“Ah,” I cry, tightening my grip on the chains and widening my stance for more stability.
I expect Asbjörn to ask whether I want to stop, but he simply trails his hand down the curve of my spine and over my ass. I think he reads the answer on my body, because he swings the flogger again.
Pain blooms in my flesh. But not just in my skin. The force rings deep through my muscles, hot and throbbing. I cry out, dropping my head as I struggle to process the sensation. Asbjörn places a hand on my back, offering some much-needed stability.
It only takes a moment before the pain shifts. In its wake comes an intense flush of heat. It’s like a drug through my blood. I want more.
“Please,” I whisper. I part my lips to form more words, afraid he’ll think I want him to stop, but my brain refuses to cooperate. “Please,” is all I can say.
Asbjörn leans close to my ear, and a delicious shudder rolls through me at the sound of his deep, raspy voice. “Such a greedy little sub. A little masochist, who loves my flogger.” He hums, then steps back and strikes again.
