Six Signs of Submission (Desire Island 6)
Page 28
She closed her eyes, relaxing as the leather swished again over her ass. It slapped against her shoulders next, a slight sting now accompanying the stroke. Still, it was nothing she couldn’t easily handle. She let out a long, slow breath, her heart settling into a deep, steady beat.
As the flogger slapped against her skin, moving slowly up to her shoulders and back down to her thighs, she settled into herself. She liked the sound of the leather. It was like rain hitting a window, hypnotic in its rhythm.
Then, there was a break in the tempo and—
“Ouch!” she yelped, as a dozen sharp tips of leather suddenly stung her ass, still tender from the spanking.
“Breathe,” Cooper said from behind her.
But instead of taking her into another soothing embrace, he flicked his wrist again. The flogger struck with some force, slapping painfully against the backs of her thighs. She yelped, rising on her toes and twisting away as much as her restraints permitted.
“Feet flat,” Cooper said, his voice calm but authoritative. “You can do this. Rise to the challenge.”
Yes. She could totally do this. As with the spanking, all she had to do was embrace the erotic pain instead of fighting it.
She forced her feet to lower themselves. She drew in a shuddery breath, determined to power her way through.
The flogger struck again, the tips snapping sharply against her flesh. Each stroke seemed more intense than the last, the sweet thuddy caress replaced by a steady barrage of stinging bees buzzing over her flesh.
The swishing sound of leather against skin was punctuated by her breathy cries as she struggled to control and master the pain.
You can do this. You can do this.
Just when it was almost too much, he suddenly appeared in front of her.
“You’re doing great,” he said, smiling at her, his eyes glittering. Power radiated from him like a force field as he took a step away from her, the flogger poised in his hand. “We’ll keep going.”
It wasn’t a question. He was in control.
But you have the ultimate control, she reminded herself.
Yet, though it was startling to admit, she didn’t want control. Though she was still afraid, that same dark, buttery feeling was spreading through her being as had occurred during the spanking. Her skin was on fire, but the burn inside was different. It was like hot, molten lava, flowing through her core and melting her from the inside out.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please.”
A slow, satisfied smile lifted his lips. “I knew it,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to her. “You were born for this.”
The leather slapped against her breasts, at once painful and sensual. It hurt, make no mistake. But it was a good hurt, thuddy and welcome.
Then several of the stinging tips of leather caught her nipple in an explosion of pain. She yelped, twisting away. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!” she cried. “I can’t!”
“You can.” He slapped the other nipple, and another burst of pain nearly short-circuited her brain. Her heart was smacking painfully in her chest, as if it wanted to burst out of its bony cage. She gasped, unable to fill her lungs.
Red light.
She could say it. She would say it!
But then the flogger gentled as it moved down her body, the leather again caressing and warming her flesh. She relaxed, the words falling away unspoken.
She closed her eyes as the leather throws thudded over her belly and thighs. Then he was behind her again, smacking, stinging and kissing her flesh until her whole body was burning. Sweat trickled under her arms and matted the hair falling into her eyes. But the panic had subsided. She could breathe again. The leather danced like kisses over her skin. Her heart rate slowed, her head too heavy to hold upright. She let it fall back, her lips parting as her eyes fluttered closed.
She heard him speaking as if from a distance. “Yes,” he said softly. “That’s it. Stay there, right where you are.”
He was in front of her now. She felt the light flick of his foot against one of her ankles. “Spread your legs, Lainey. I’m going to flog your sweet little cunt.”
Cunt.
She flushed, heat splashing over her face and chest. What a crude word! The ultimate insult a man could hurl at a woman.
And yet, the way he’d said it, it hadn’t been vulgar. Quite the opposite. The word was somehow honest and pure in his mouth. It didn’t seem like a swear, but rather like an intimate caress.
But then her brain processed the rest of what he’d said, and her eyes flew open. “You’re what?” she managed, her voice a croak.
The sweet, heavy cloak of sensuality that had settled over her fell away. Adamantly, she shook her head.
“You’re not serious.”
He smiled. “I am.” Again he tapped his foot against her inner ankle. “Do what I say, sub girl. I’m going to whip your cunt.”