Second Chance Dom

She opened her mouth to argue, but when his brows went up expectantly, her gaze dipped to the bulge in his jeans. Oh yeah. Be good or else. “Painal” wasn’t her kink but apparently it was one of his.

In moments he’d untied her arms, and she stretched with grateful enthusiasm.

“Glad to be free? It’s not going to last.”

“You could just tell me where to lie down and order me not to move.”

“I could just tell you what I’d planned to do and skip the whole thing, but where would the fun be in that?”

He grabbed a different type of rope and dragged her into position on the bed. Face up, at least, but spread eagle.

“Stay, or you’re getting an ass full of come.”

“Staying, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He started to work, moving with a fluid precision that was both beautiful and terrifying. The pattern he made left big sections of skin open to his touch, and as he worked he stroked and pinched and tickled, until every inch of her was ready for him to do anything he damn well pleased.

At one point he tugged, and she went up, suspended over his bed, legs tied wide and almost exactly at dick height if he stood on his mattress. Rather than cutting into her, the rope was placed with precision and comfort, and even supported her head. She felt like she was levitating, and considering how hot she was for him, she wasn’t sure she wasn’t simply floating there on a crest of sexual energy.

He cut a piece of rope and folded it over a few times until the looped lengths were about flogger length.

“Have you ever been beaten with rope?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t look so unimpressed. Sometimes the simplest implements can be nice and painful. Rope, a plastic hanger, an extension cord. Who needs fancy?”

He walked around the bed, admiring his handiwork on her.

“What about the romance of real implements?”

“If you find being beaten with a fancy, two thousand dollar elk hide flogger more romantic than being beaten with whatever your partner has at hand, you’ve turned into a little snob.”

He flicked the rope in his hand like a lash and it stung a hot path along one of her thighs. She squeaked.

“Maybe you need to go back downstairs and troll for a rich guy. There are plenty of them.”

Flick.

She squealed and struggled against her bonds.

Flick.

Fire licked along her ass, wrapping partway around her hip.

“There’s no reason for a girl like you to be slumming with the likes of me.”

Flick.

The whippy length of rope bit the inside of her thigh. It fucking burned, but she found herself straining toward him for more. Her whole attention followed him around the bed as he chose his next target. He changed the rope in his hand to one strand of rope and whipped her breast with it, connecting with her nipple. For a brief, glorious moment her back bowed, and every muscle in her

body tightened.

Fuck. That was close. She’d almost come just from that.

“Sir!”