Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

He moved to stand in front of her so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips softly parted. “Abbie?” he asked. “You okay?”

She opened her eyes and fixed them on his face. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Ready for more?”

“Yes, please, Sir.”

He moved behind her. Focusing on her ass, he put more force into his strokes, covering every inch of flesh with the stinging leather. When he whipped the backs of her thighs, she finally emitted a small, gasping sound. He struck her again, letting the tip of the whip wrap around her hipbone. This time she yelped, but the cry was quickly followed by a deep inhale of breath and then a long, slow exhalation.

“Abbie?” he queried again. “You okay? Should I continue?”

Her eyes still closed, she murmured, “Yes, please. More, Sir.”

He continued to whip her, checking in every few minutes to make sure she was okay. They settled into an almost hypnotic, rhythmic dance, he snapping the whip, she accepting its delivery with awe-inspiring grace. He was right there with her, the whip a conduit between them of such power that he could almost feel the stinging, centering strokes along with her.

Each time she hit the bottom of an exhalation, he let the whip fall with a snapping crack. As he worked, she settled deeper into herself. Standing slightly to the side as he was, he could see that her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her face slack, her expression utterly relaxed. He understood then that she had achieved that altered state of consciousness that bordered on the mystical.

While in this state, she might never stop him. It was up to him to make sure he didn’t take her too far. At the same time, he was deeply impressed with her grace and ability to handle intense erotic pain, and curious how far she could go.

When he finally lowered the whip, the flesh on her back, thighs and ass was an angry, mottled red. Yet, her breathing remained deep and even, her hands still in place at the back of her head.

Dropping the whip, Ryan moved to stand in front of Abbie. Reaching for her wrists, he gently pulled her hands from behind her head and lowered her arms to her sides.

She opened her eyes, which remained unfocused for several seconds as she came back to herself. She let out a long sigh, a smile lifting her lips. “Sir,” she breathed. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome,” he replied. “You took an incredible whipping, Abbie. I had no idea you could take that much. How is it you haven’t sought this kind of total power exchange before now?”

“I didn’t know I could go this far myself,” she said with a startled laugh, her face glowing. “I mean, I’ve fantasized about it all my life, but I didn’t know if I had the grace. And I never found the right man who had the courage to take me there… until you, Sir,” she added softly.

“I’m truly honored,” Ryan said, deeply touched. “Thank you for trusting me enough to explore this with me.” He took one of her hands. “Come lie down on the recovery couch so I can give you proper aftercare.”

Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she glided along beside him. She draped herself over the cushions and closed her eyes, the smile still hovering over her mouth.

Ryan smoothed a healing balm gently over her skin, keeping his touch as light as he could over the hot, abraded flesh. When he was done, he pulled a bottle of cold water from the small refrigerator near the couch and held it to her lips.

Lifting her head, she drank deeply as he tipped the bottle carefully to control the flow. When she’d had enough, he asked, “How are you able to do that, Abbie? You took a very intense whipping with the kind of grace that’s rarely seen in the scene. What’s your secret?”

“Breathing,” she replied, her eyes again clear and focused.

Ryan understood the importance of deep breathing as a tool to manage pain, but whatever she’d been doing had gone well beyond the usual technique. “Can you elaborate?”

“My practice of yoga has taught me the importance of breathing and I’ve been able to apply it to BDSM impact play. My breathing carries me from one yoga pose to the next. It’s meditative. I’m able to let my mind shut down and think of nothing but my movement, breath and muscles. I trust my body and my body trusts me. It’s both calming and exhausting in a good way.

“During BDSM play, I go through a similar process. I focus on the scene—on the sensation and on my breathing. I push my body in the same way I do during yoga. I love to push myself harder—to not only accept the pain, but to get right into the middle of it. My skin burns and the pain becomes almost too much. But then I take a deep breath in and as I exhale, I relax every muscle in my body. Breathe in: prepare. Breathe out: accept. I start out consciously like that, but then I let go, and that’s when I slip into subspace. Everything else disappears.”