“Where is your rope?” Kate kept her words brisk as she struggled with her desire to jump him and her need to control.
“Dresser, second drawer from the bottom.” Chris indicated to his right.
“Lie on the bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stop right there,” Kate didn’t bother to look at him as she stroked the handle of a big suede flogger she had found in the drawer on top of the rope. She had seen him use it countless times, but had he ever experienced it? The flogger firmly in her hand, Kate reached in the drawer for a coil of rope and turned. Chris stood a few feet from his bed, his eyes on her with an expression she had never seen before. His face reflected determination but also vulnerability and something else she couldn’t decipher. It made her want topush him, take care of his needs, and make love to him. Could he stand to let her dominate him for one night?
“‘Red’ work for you?” she inquired, referring to the standard safeword used in the BDSM community.
His eyes widened a fraction, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Red is fine, Mistress.”
Kate’s pussy dampened with the honorific. The word was dear to her, but to have it come from his lips added something special. Kate dropped the rope on the bed and shook out the flogger. She bit back a smile as Chris’s attention seemed riveted on the strands.
“Ever been flogged?”
Chris nodded, Kate raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated. “As part of my training, I experienced most of what I do to my subs.” Hissubs. The words threw her off balance, a reminder that he was a Dominant and not a submissive.
“Flogging, bondage, and sex okay?” A pleasant tingling started at the base of her neck, slid down her body like a lover’s caress, and her pulse quickened.
Chris looked down and smirked. She followed his gaze. His cock stood proudly from a neatly trimmed nest of hair, his heavy sack dangling between his legs—taunting her. Her mouth watered as she fantasized about genital torture.I want to bind his cock with rope and hang weights from his balls. Put him in a chastity cage and make sure this thing of beauty is mine.A drop of pre-cum shone at the tip, drawing her gaze to the tiny slit. Her breasts ached, and her nipples hardened so fast the areolas puckered against her bra. A pity she didn’t have her sounding kit with her—she would have loved to torture him with urethral play.
Chris stepped to her side and cupped her cheek. “Why the sad look?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Already topping from the bottom, imp?”
He squinted at her for a moment before shaking his head. “No, Mistress. Please forgive me.”
Oh, the sweet taste of submission.
“I consent to flogging, bondage, and sex, but could you please hurry before I embarrass myself by blowing my load?”
Kate shot out her hand, cupped his sack, and yanked. Chris moaned and threw back his head. Kate maintained the pressure on his balls as she leaned forward to suck on his neck until he shuddered. With a firm but playful tug to his sack and a nip at his neck, she let go. “Go stand at the cross with your back to me and hold on.”
Chris obeyed without hesitation, stepping into position at the cross. The wood was solid beneath his palms and sanded to a perfect patina. He let his forehead rest against his forearm in a quiet need to settle into himself.
He felt her eyes on him before he felt her touch.
Awareness slid over his skin like heat, the knowledge that she was looking, assessing, and claiming the moment.
He was used to being the claiming party, but here with Kate submitting felt like the most natural thing in the world. The floor beneath his bare feet seemed to soften.
A faint shift of air warned him she had stepped closer. Her foot nudged between his ankles in a silent command. He widened his stance immediately. His mind didn’t balk.
Yes. Like this.
He startled when she placed her hand on his shoulder and glided it down his back from to his buttocks, slow andthorough. He exhaled and his muscles relaxed. She was learning him with her palm, mapping muscle and tension, warming him under her touch.
“Anything medical I need to know?”
His breath deepened without effort. “No, Mistress.”
Every place she passed over seemed to wake and then soften.
He did not feel inspected.
He felt known.
