Enamoured (The Enslaved Duet 2)

The sharp whisper of the leather cutting through the air as I righted myself quieted me a second before I would’ve spoken, and then I was groaning from the sweet pain of the flogger against the bare skin of my back.

He beat me soundly, only seconds between each slap of the soft tassels digging like knife points into my flesh. The pain of the flogging built like hot bricks, one by one, into a wall of burning pleasure against my back.

I stayed folded in the shape of his desire, turning red with the colour of his lust beat into my skin, and I felt more at home in myself than I had in years.

I needed this, to bend until the point of breaking just to feel how far I could stretch, just to know I was doing my best to please someone worthy of my effort.

And Alexander was worthy.

No matter what he had done, my body and soul, my spirit were his to command just as I’d promise both of us they would never ever be.

But I was too far into subspace to think of the err of my ways, to reprimand or shame myself for the wants that had been too long woven into the fabric of my character to unstitch and respool.

So by the time Alexander stepped away from the throbbing ache in my back, I was exactly how we both wanted me to be.

Empty, but alive with purpose for one single thing.

The will of my Master.

“This first time, I won’t hold back,” he promised over the clank of a belt buckle falling open and the sensual rasp of a zipper being teased apart. “But you’ll take everything I have to give like a good little sub, won’t you, bella?”

Then the hot, hard tip of his cock brushed across my lips, painting them in the brine of the cum beaded there. I moaned from deep in my clenching gut as my tongue traced the taste of him over my mouth. He halted my efforts with hard hands woven into my hair, pinning my face at exactly the distance and angle he needed to use me best.

“Open your mouth and keep it open. I want to use you until you’re drooling and choking all over my cock, and then I want you to gag for you it.”

A shiver juddered through my torso as my lips fell open. My hot, panting breath fanned over his length, and I wished acutely that I wasn’t blindfolded so I could see the way the thick veins in his cock pulsed for me.

Instead, I felt them rub over my tongue as he used his hands in my hair to leverage me onto his cock until it was wedged at the back of my throat. I swallowed around him, humming the secret lyrics of my pleasure as I tended to his dick, as he sawed it over my lips the way a violinist controlled his bow. The sounds we made together like that were obscene; the wet suck of my lips against his skin, the hot whorl of my breath churning over his length each time he pulled out of my throat, and the faint vibration of my constant, babbling moans and groans. We filled the empty, cavernous room with the music of his Domination and my submission, and I’d never heard a more satisfying symphony.

Finally, he pried my tightly drawn lips off his dick with a loud pop, and my subsequent groan of disapproval.

“Did you miss your Master’s cock in your throat?” he asked me coldly.

I squirmed on my knees, the cold studio air against the arousal sliding down my thighs from my overheated pussy. His meanness aroused me the way no tenderness ever could. It amplified him until he seemed giant with power, Herculean with strength.

“Yes, Master,” I said, all breath and wet, smacking lips. “I don’t know what I did without it.”

A small part of brain realized how shameful my actions were; I was a woman scorned. Where was my righteous wrath and fury? Where was my backbone?

It was ramrod straight in the perfect posture of a submissive.

It wasn’t just Alexander using me at that moment to wring out his own pleasure. It was about me using him for my own. I needed the cruelty and the objectification maybe even more than he needed to dole it out.

This was about him proving to me, in his own way, in our secret language of flesh and fetish, that he could still fill all the cracks in my heart with gold. Give purpose to my masochism and a swift death by climax to my worries and my doubts.

This was a Master taking care of his slave in the most elemental way he knew how.

Alexander moved one hand from my hair, pushing the blindfold off my face as he did so, and then over my tear-streaked cheek to slide two fingers into my mouth.