“I wish you could see all your gorgeous, creamy skin blush with the pleasure that I’m giving you,” I said before groaning in the back of my throat. Her breathing stuttered in response as she sunk further into sub space. “It is just a pale pink under this brush but it will be reddened by the time I’m done with you.”
I circled her naval, watching her belly flutter in anticipation, but I dipped the bristles in the divot there. She squirmed when I traced the tender intersection of her legs and groin.
“Be still,” I ordered.
Immediately, she held herself taught, only her pulse still bouncing madly in her breasts and throat.
“Good girl,” I soothed, as I wet the end of the brush in the well of her arousal and swirled the dampened end teasingly over her clit.
Her hips shot off the bed.
“I told you to be still,” I reminded her, my voice saturated with displeasure.
She shivered, fisting her hands in the sheets and biting her bottom lip in an attempt to control herself.
I passed the brush once more over her swollen button, round and round in progressively harder strokes until her mound glistened wetly in the low light. Leaning over the bed but careful not to touch her with anything other than the brush, I blew cool air across her sex. Her legs quivered in response. I dipped the brush in her dripping pussy once more before I brought it to her breasts. Her nipple pulled ever tighter as her juices cooled and dried on her skin. She moaned loudly when I followed the path of the brush stroke with my tongue and sucked a nipple into my mouth. I drew on it hard, curling my tongue around her peak.
“Ah,” she exhaled a long, low gasp when I did the same thing to the other nipple.
“Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet, Elle. Rich and sweet like wildflower honey. Here,” I said, bringing the brush back to her sex for more of that sugary nectar. “Try it.”
I coated her parted lips in her own wetness and watched as her tentative pink tongue peeked out to steal a taste. She hummed once before her tongue completed a full sweep of those plump, pouting lips.
My cock throbbed, bobbing against my stomach and leaving a trail of sticky pre-come there. Before my control slipped entirely, I traded out the paintbrush for a suede flogger. Carefully, I trailed the soft tendrils over her primed skin.
She shuddered.
“Do you know what this is, my siren?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s a flogger.”
She shivered delicately because she knew what that was.
I trailed the falls teasingly over her entire form, lingering until she writhed.
“So eager. Do you need a little pain, siren?”
“Please.”
I wondered if she deliberately forgot to address me as sir in order to be punished or if she was so consumed by anticipation that she really forgot. I decided it didn’t matter.
My wrist flicked, bringing the soft tendrils down hard across her breasts. A long, low moan wrenched from her diaphragm.
“Please, what?”
I brought the tails down again, once on the tender underside of her left breast and then again on the right.
“Please, sir,” she gasped.
“That first night I took you in Mexico, I wanted to do this,” I explained, modulating my voice so that it was stripped of the furious arousal churning in my gut. “I wanted to beat your breasts red with a flogger and fuck them with my cock while they were still hot.”
A strangled whimper escaped her parted lips. The euphoria that came with dominating a beautiful, strong woman, seducing her so completely that she was at the mercy of your darkest desires, thrummed through me like thunder.
“Would you like that, Elle? Would you like me to fuck you here?” I asked, while I continued to strategically lay into her beautiful tits.
I wanted to clamp her rosy, taut nipples but she wasn’t ready for that even though the savage in me didn’t really care.
“Yes, sir. Please,” she said, the last word dragged out on a groan as the edges of the flogger wrapped around one of her nipples.
Her back came arching off the bed.
“Be still,” I ordered.
Her body shook with the strain.
The color of her chest was a deep, ruddy pink when I finally set down the flogger. I reached for the glass I left on the bedside table and grabbed a fat ice cube between my fingers. She hissed as I ran it in light circles around her pain-warmed nipple.
The ice melted quickly against her skin. The next time, I reached for two cubes and held them tightly to each nipple until she murmured incoherently, the pain of the cold sharp against the background of pleasure. When those chips dissolved, I leaned forward to lick up the wetness with my tongue before sucking a nipple deep into my mouth.