Claimed (Club Sin 1)

He used a wipe to clean his finger before he dropped it on the tray. He’d left her purposely for a moment to stir in the peak of her climax and heighten her need. After he returned to her, a lustful woman and damn beauty stared back at him.

Pressing his hand between her thighs, he grunted as her arousal soaked his fingers. To show her how wet she was, he gathered her honey onto the tips of his fingers and smothered one of her nipples in it. The seductive look she gave him made his cock ache and press painfully against the zipper of his pants.

His intention so far hadn’t been to bring her to orgasm and refuse her climax, but to awaken her body and raise it a point she couldn’t control, which softened and readied her for new intense sensations. She was there then some. “Let’s make this fun, shall we?”

He turned to the cart and grabbed the vibrating dildo with remote control, along with the black tape. While he’d typically fuck her in this scene, as he would any other submissive, that was a hard limit for Presley. Therefore, he had to improvise.

As he coated the rotating beads of the dildo in a thin sheet of lube, Presley glanced at the thick metallic purple dildo with a hazed look, but then she snapped her focus to him, more aware now, and shut her legs. “Sir . . .”

Narrowing his eyes—which ended her objections, since the use of a dildo wasn’t a hard limit, either—he nudged her legs open with his knee. He pushed the dildo inside her lower lips, angled the clit stimulator onto her little bud, then he used the tape to fasten the remote control to her thigh. After which he tossed the tape to the floor, and approached the ropes tied to the floor.

At first he’d believed it would be too much for Presley to be restrained completely with no freedom to move in front of the crowd. Now he suspected it wouldn’t have the same effect.

He dropped down to make quick work of securing her legs to the loops in the floor, putting her in an inverted Y. Once he was finished with the binds on each ankle, he looked up to her and switched the vibe on to medium speed. “Now, you won’t move, will you?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head. “No, sir.”

Leaving her gasping under the force of the dildo’s beads spinning inside her, while the clit stimulator assaulted her little bud, he turned to the tray and grabbed the four-foot bullwhip off the cart, which he preferred because the shorter whip gave better accuracy.

He was skilled with the whip—he practiced on a tree and removed leaves to keep his skills sharp—but hitting a spot he didn’t intend to hit wasn’t in his plans tonight. Which was why he bound her legs; keeping her still meant safety. He didn’t need to feed his pride by showing off with an eight-foot whip. He wanted to teach the Club Sin members that a safe scene resulted in a happy submissive, not one in need of stitches.

The whip in his hand—the weight and feel of it—was the perfect extension of himself, and that was what he loved about the whip. The whip did what he told it to do, hit at the force he wanted and where he wanted it. He controlled the whip on a submissive’s body, and that was why this toy was his favorite to use during a scene.

He closed in behind Presley, pressing his body against her back to allow her to feel his comfort. He swept her hair over her shoulder, and her vanilla scent sped through his nostrils as he kissed the back of her neck. In the same moment, he slid the whip over her arm so she could feel what he planned for her.

Her breath deepened at the touch of leather and maybe, when he slid it over her breast, the sight of it. She wiggled her hips against him in an urgent request, and he smiled at her sweat-coated flesh.

After one last kiss on her shoulder, he put distance between them, then he cracked the whip. She tensed, giving him the reaction he wanted. The crack of a whip awakened a submissive as no other sound could.

He’d always thought the single tail was powerful in a scene for that very reason. It was frightening and exciting for a submissive. The kiss of a whip could be as gentle as a tongue or as deadly as a knife. That was how the excitement fueled the power during play.

The unknown, the anticipation, and the concern drew intense emotion, which, mixed with arousal, brought the submissive to a deeper type of pleasure. He studied Presley now, restrained completely for his pleasure. He could easily split her skin, but he was no sadist. More important, permanent marks were a hard limit for Presley. Years of skill and practice had brought him control, and the marks he’d leave on her body tonight would fade by morning.

He paused, waited for her posture to relax, and the second the dimple in her bottom smoothed away to silky flesh, he got into position. Keeping his feet flat on the floor, knees flexed and arms relaxed, he flicked his wrist.

A jerk against the ropes caused the hook to rat

tle, and a scream, so honest, surrounded him. He knew she’d feel a burn—as if kissed by a flame—where he marked her. Christ, he knew it well.

“Now that you know how to use a whip without cutting yourself in the process, and before you dare touch a submissive with it, you will understand the degrees of force first,” Charles had said. Dmitri had never forgotten the lesson he had received. The two scars on his back were a constant reminder to always practice in order to keep his skills sharp.

As the end of the whip returned to Dmitri, he glanced out at the crowd, and it came as no surprise that they were leaning forward in interest. He had put Presley on display tonight not only for Presley, not only for the show, but because this submissive was damn well perfect with her sincere responses. While some women held their pleasure inside and fought against it, she unleashed it without any hesitation.

He raised the whip . . . whoosh . . . snap.

Presley’s low moan all but vibrated along the floor. Once she settled and relaxed, he sent the whip back out to her, slightly upping the force. Nothing to raise welts or to cut her but to leave lovely red lines decorating her flesh with his markings.

Her head was bowed as her legs trembled in the way he’d seen before, and the crowd around him faded away as the sounds of her moans mixed with the whoosh of the whip carried him away to a place equally high.

With her trembling increasing, he gathered the whip in his hand. Her arms and legs rocked with tremors, and the marks on her bottom and upper back made him proud. He tucked the whip under his arm, ensuring that the end didn’t touch the floor, and approached her.

He settled in front of her, then he trailed his finger along her neck. Her glossy eyes, bright red cheeks, and puffy mouth greeted him. That sexy look of near begging remained, and he smiled in approval of her acceptance under the whip. “You’re beautiful, Presley.”

“Thank you, sir,” she rasped, sounding clearheaded.

He removed his finger from her neck, and she moaned deeply. Confident that she was fine and still with him, he reached down along her thigh and pressed the highest speed on the vibrator.

He grinned when she jerked and gasped, then he moved in behind her again. He didn’t want to shield her from the crowd. She needed the visual to drive this scene, and he sure as hell wanted to allow the others to experience her blow.