“It’s just what?” Eric persisted. “What were you going to say?”
She met his gaze, lifting her chin slightly. “Master John says safewords have no place in a true M/s relationship. It’s a matter of trust. The Master decides what the slave can or can’t handle. Her only task is to obey.”
Master John is a flaming dickwad.
Keeping his tone calm, he replied carefully, “I believe there is always a place for a safeword, no matter how intimate the relationship. So, while you’re working with me, I want you to feel free to use it, though I doubt you’ll need to during this session. There’s no shame in using it, and certainly no retribution. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, looking away.
Taking up his stance behind her, he lifted the flogger and ran the soft tresses over her back, pleased when she shuddered in response to the touch of leather. “We begin.”
~*~
Rowan relaxed into her restraints. Something about having her arms and legs pulled taut as she leaned into the cross’s embrace had always centered her. The soft leather wrapped around her wrists and ankles only added to her sense of wellbeing. Her skin tingled with anticipation, eager to feel the leather slap against it. Underlying the cocooning sensation of the bondage was a delicious feeling of erotic helplessness that never failed to get her juices flowing.
She glanced sidelong at the trainer as he secured her in place. He couldn’t hold a candle to Master John in the looks department. Not that he was ugly, not at all. He had broad shoulders and a clearly muscular physique beneath his black T-shirt and black jeans. His face was more rugged than handsome. His top lip was slightly asymmetrical, a small scar bisecting the left side. He wore his medium-length, light brown hair in no discernible style, some of the longish strands falling over one eye. His thick, straight brows were a darker brown, as was his beard, which he wore closely cropped along a strong jaw. His hawkish nose was a little too large for his face. His deep-set eyes were set a little too close together, though she had to admit they were a very pretty shade of emerald green.
Her eyes fluttered closed when the first thuddy stroke of the flogger found its mark against her ass. Yessss, her body sang, coming alive like a thirsty plant suddenly doused with water.
He began lightly but steadily, methodically covering every inch of exposed flesh from her shoulders down to the backs of her thighs until her nerve endings tingled with masochistic pleasure. She sighed as the leather kissed her skin, settling into herself.
Slowly but surely, he increased the intensity, though he kept the tempo steady. She welcomed the swishing thud of the flogger, allowing it to push her forward into the center of the cross with each expertly delivered stroke.
As her skin heated, becoming increasingly sensitized, her breath quickened, her heart thumping. After a while, her initial pleasure edged into something more difficult, but also more powerful. Pain had shifted to the forefront of her experience, making her gasp as she struggled to process and accept it.
“Feet flat on the floor,” Eric directed from behind her as he focused his attention on her now-burning ass.
Rowan, who hadn’t realized she’d risen on tiptoe, forced herself to lower her feet to the floor. Her wrist cuffs tightened as a result of the increasing pressure, heightening her sense of erotic vulnerability.
Another crashing blow, the hardest one so far, made her gasp in pain.
“Breathe,” Eric soothed from behind her. “Close your eyes. Relax your shoulders. Accept what I’m giving you with the grace I know you possess.”
Rowan drew in a shuddery breath and let it out as slowly as she could. She focused on the residual tension still coiled in her neck and shoulders, making a conscious effort to let it go.
The second breath was easier, the third easier still.
“Yes,” the trainer said, the approval in his tone like a caress to her senses. “You’re doing very well, Rowan. I need just a little more from you. If you can, empty your mind and give yourself fully to the experience. Don’t anticipate, don’t focus on any particular outcome. Just let the sensations flow over and through you. Surrender your will and your body to what you’re feeling.”
She could barely process what he was saying. Her heart was booming like a drum in her ears, her breath now a ragged pant high in her throat. The flogging was relentless. The erotic pain had shifted into just plain pain. She clenched her hands into fists as tears sprang to her eyes.
Still the flogger crashed like a dozen hard hands against her tortured flesh. “I can’t,” she whispered, the words pushed out along with her staccato breaths. “Please, I can’t…”
“You can. You are. Give in, Rowan. You’re almost there. Let go.”