“Color?” His voice resonates differently through the leather, deeper and almost inhuman.
“Green,” I whisper, transfixed.
He circles me where I kneel naked on the bed, the flogger dangling from his hand. The anticipation builds with each step, each moment of his focused attention. The leather tails whisper across my skin in warning before the first strike lands.
The flogger connects with my back, the sensation more of a thud than a sting. A sound escapes my lips—not quite pain, not quite pleasure. Something in between that makes my spine arch for more.
“Again,” I gasp.
His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s enjoying this—enjoying me—enjoying the dynamic that comes so naturally between us.
The blows fall in rhythmic succession, each one harder than the last. My skin heats as nerve endings awaken under his skilled hand. When he pauses to run his fingers over the reddened flesh, I whimper at the contrast.
“Turn around,” he commands.
I face him, chest heaving. He produces the nipple clamps and dangles them before my eyes. The metal catches light as they sway.
“These will hurt,” he warns. “And hurt more when removed.”
The first clamp closes around my nipple, sending shock wavesthrough my body. I cry out, back arching. The second follows, and tears spring to my eyes—pain transforming into pleasure that courses straight to my core.
His gloved hand slides between my legs, finding me embarrassingly wet. “Pain makes you bloom,” he observes.
His fingers build pressure as he watches my face with predatory focus. When my orgasm claims me, it’s violent. I’m still shaking when he pushes me flat, positions himself above me, and drives in hard.
“Another,” he demands, his masked face hovering above mine like a beautiful nightmare.
The second climax tears through me even faster than the first. The third follows when he suddenly removes the clamps; the blood rushing back intensifies everything to an unbearable degree.
He growls behind the mask as he flips me onto my stomach, then yanks my hips up. His grip is bruising, and I know it will leave fingerprint-shaped bruises that I’ll find tomorrow, souvenirs of this moment I never want to forget. He enters me again with a single brutal thrust that makes me cry out, my fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Look at you,” he says. “Taking everything I give you.”
His hand slides up my spine and into my hair, gripping tight and pulling back until my throat is exposed. My back arches, changing the angle, driving him deeper. Each thrust is deliberate and punishing.
“Harder,” I gasp, surprising myself with my greed.
His rhythm accelerates, and his free hand wraps around my throat, applying pressure to the sides rather than the front. My vision narrows, blood rushing in my ears as he constricts carefully, controlled even in this savagery. The edges of consciousness blur, intensifying every sensation—his cock inside me, the bed against my knees, the fabric against my cheek.
“Still green?” he demands, slightly loosening his grip.
“Green,” I rasp. “So fucking green.”
He leans over my back then, his chest against me, and I feel the mask’s spikes graze my shoulder. The sensation is sharp as the cold metal threatens, but it does not quite break the skin. The knowledge that they could hurt me, that he’s holding back just enough, makes my entire body clench around him.
He notices, laughing darkly. “You like that? The danger?”
The spikes trace my shoulder blade as he drives into me, the dual sensations of pleasure and potential pain holding me on a razor’s edge. His hand tightens on my throat again as the other snakes beneath me to circle my clit.
“Come for me again,” he orders. “Come with these spikes against your skin, my hand on your throat, and my cock impaling your tight little cunt.”
His fingers work viciously against my clit as the spikes graze along my shoulder blade. The twin sensations of sharp metal threatening my skin and his relentless thrusts push me toward the edge again. I’m delirious with pleasure, every nerve ending firing at once.
“That’s it,” he growls through the mask. “Show me what a filthy girl you are.”
His cock drives deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. The pressure builds, coiling tighter until I can’t breathe, can’t think.
“I’m going to fill you up,” he snarls, his voice distorted through leather. “Pump you so full of my cum you’ll be dripping for days.” His grip tightens. “Want to breed thisperfect little cunt, watch you swell with what I put inside you.”
