Two of a Kind (Desire Island 2)

“Uh, okay,” Dylan said, an amused expression on his face. “Got it.”

They talked for a while about any hard limits for a caning scene, or areas of concern he needed to be aware of. Kendra assured him she was a veteran when it came to canes, and could handle a significant amount of erotic pain. “I love it on my ass and the backs of my thighs, Sir,” she added. “And my breasts, with a lighter cane, of course.”

Dylan returned the cane to the rack and then faced her. He reached for the tag of the zipper on her vest, a question in his eyes.

In spite of her arousal and eagerness to experience the stroke of the cane after so long, Kendra stiffened. What if she freaked out or something? Would he understand? Was this too soon?

There has to be a first time, she reminded herself. You’re in a safe, consensual environment with a professional Dom. Get back on the horse. It’s time. You’re ready. Fortified by her internal pep talk, Kendra gave a nod of assent.

Dylan dragged the zipper slowly downward until the clasp at the bottom sprang free and the vest parted to reveal her bare breasts. Her arms at her sides, she closed her hands into fists to keep from raising them to cover the scars. She lifted her chin defiantly as his gaze moved over the ridged line down the center of her chest.

He brought up a hand and touched the scar lightly with the tip of his finger. “What happened, Kendra?”

She looked away. “It’s fine. Really. I’m fine. Let’s just do the scene, okay?” She forced herself to look back at him, focusing on those deep blue, liquid eyes. “I want it. I need it. Please.”

He was silent a moment, as if making up his mind. Then he nodded and took a step back. “Strip naked for me,” he commanded in a masterful tone. “Leave on the stockings and heels.”

“Yes, Sir.” Kendra forgot about the scars as Dylan had her stand between the two posts. She assumed an X position so he could tether her wrists and ankles. As he worked, she sighed with pleasure. How she had missed the snug, warm embrace of leather and the delicious, erotic helplessness of being bound.

Dylan picked up the medium cane again from the rack and moved behind her, out of her line of sight. “I’ll warm the skin first,” he said, running a hand over her ass. “Since it’s our first scene, I need you to let me know if something is too much or not enough, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Kendra agreed, excitement and nervous anticipation zipping through her nerve endings. The strange thing about caning, and really any intense erotic pain, was that she loved the anticipation leading up to it, and she adored the languorous, sensual, triumphant feeling afterward. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. At least at first—before her skin adapted and numbed, and her twisted brain turned the pain into a dark, perfect pleasure that transcended anything she had ever found in the vanilla world.

He started lightly, as promised, tapping her ass with even, steady strokes. Slowly but surely, the strokes intensified. The first real stroke made her suck in a sharp breath which ended in a moan as her nerve endings registered the sharp, searing impact of the rattan.

He paused a moment, no doubt noting and assessing her reaction. She thrust her ass out in a silent invitation for more. He complied, the cane whipping across both cheeks in a fiery line. She settled into herself as the cane whistled and snapped over her ass and thighs until she was quivering, sweat beading on her upper lip and along her spine.

She felt so alive. Her sopping cunt ached with need. She was glad she was tethered because otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to rub at her throbbing clit. Along with the raw, fierce pleasure she derived from the caning, a triumphant thrill moved through her psyche.

She was back! She hadn’t let that son of a bitch steal her greatest joy.

The caning continued, each stroke delivered with expertise and finesse. Her heart, which had been pattering high and fast in her throat, slowed along with her breathing as her head became heavy. She let it fall back, lips parting, as the warm, long-missed calm moved over and through her. Somehow Dylan had already brought her to that place—that bright, high, perfect plane of existence where pleasure and pain lost their separate meaning. She let herself drift as the cane continued to kiss her heated flesh, its sting now completely welcome.

After a while, she became aware that the caning had stopped. Then she felt Dylan’s presence in front of her like a magnetic field that drew her close. She wanted to lift her head and open her eyes, but she was still too caught in the throes of flight to move.