A Billionaire for Christmas

Calluses from the steel strings of the bass guitar hardened his fingertips.

Peyton said, “It pleases me to tie you up, to restrain you so that I can touch you however I wish.”

She nodded, even though she was pretty sure that she didn’t have to because everything should be allowed unless she said a safe word. That’s how the books showed it, anyway.

“Good girl.”

Her face warmed at his praise, silly as it was.

Peyton led her over to two posts bolted to the ground. Black loops were welded to the steel pillars that stretched over her head.

“Stand between them. Hold these loops.” He touched one of the loops just below her shoulders.

She wove her fingers through the cold steel.

Holding onto the bars felt like she was even less in control, less responsible.

Peyton stood right behind her. Warmth from his bare chest rolled off his skin onto her back. “If you let go, I will tie you to the stakes.”

Raji dropped her hands to her sides.

Peyton lifted one of her arms, a careful, slow move, and bound her wrist to the loops with a cord so soft that it felt like silk. She watched as he did the other one. The loose loop around her wrist was secured with coils in an intricate knot that, if she pulled on it, would tighten the coils around the loop but not tighten the loop itself. That knot was tied so that there was no way it could cut off her circulation to her hand, an important safety consideration, especially for a surgeon.

She drooped, trusting that Peyton knew what he was doing.

“Feet by the stakes.” He tied her ankles, spread-eagle, to the posts with the same safety knots.

Raji was utterly vulnerable to anything he wanted to do to her, whether it was to fuck her up the ass or whip the skin off her back or something else.

She gripped the steel loops more tightly for balance.

Near her ear, Peyton whispered, “I want you to be silent. Whatever I do to you, don’t make a sound, or you will be punished. Nod to show me that you understand.”

Raji nodded.

His hand traced her ribs down to the curve of her hip, stroking her skin.

She let her head roll back and moaned.

The riding crop in Peyton’s hand flicked, and a sharp stripe stung her leg.

That brief flash of pain drove the guilt and grief entirely out of Raji’s head, a moment of bliss.

“No sounds,” Peyton whispered near her shoulder.

His hand slid around her hip and cupped her ass cheek.

Raji bit her lip, waiting.

The humid warmth of Peyton’s breath feathered over her neck and shoulder.

His other hand trailed up her ribs, and his fingers delicately traced the swell of the underside of her breast.

Her breath caught in her throat, almost a sound, but not quite.

His fingers stroked over her nipple, a gentle pinch. It tightened in his fingers, hardening, and he barely, lightly pinched her.

Raji gasped, “Ouch.”

Peyton backed away, his hands leaving her.

She braced herself.

A sharper slap this time, a slash across her buttock.

The bright pain drove everything out of Raji’s mind, a floating nirvana for an instant longer than the first one.

She gasped and held the rings more tightly.

After that, his hands caressed and tormented her, stroking her body and breasts and folds. With each new touch, each deeper stroke, she moaned or exclaimed, needing the flash of pain that gave her a moment of unthinking relief.

Peyton obliged, the riding crop giving way to a short, silk whip that lashed pain over Raji’s back.

She cried out, a scream of desperation when the grief and guilt came flooding back.

He said once, “Recite your safe words.”

She whispered, “Hemorrhagic stroke and ischemic stroke.”

“Do you want to use them?”

“No. I deserve this. Use me.”

The next lash over her back stung hard, surely deep enough to leave a welt.

Maybe a bruise.

She cried out, “Peyton!” and received another bite from the whip.

Through it all, he stood in front of her, kissing her between blows with his tongue coiling around hers, his hand grabbing her naked ass, and his fingers running over the raw welts on her back, more pain that chased thought from her head.

He stood behind her, stroking and squeezing her breasts and hips, stroking over her clit and into her core with his ridged and callused fingers, nearly bringing her to orgasm but backing off as she tightened on him.

The hard rod of his erection pressed against her ass through his pants.

In time, all the dark thoughts receded, and Raji pleaded with him, begging him to fuck her.

The whip stung her again, biting into her skin, and she cried out, the wave of annihilation washing over her.

Then he was fucking her from behind, his cock filling her core as he held her hips tilted back and shoved himself into her.

Raji cried out again, her orgasm building ever higher as Peyton stroked her clit with his thumb. He fucked her hard, his hips slapping the stinging skin on her ass.