The leather cracked against my flesh again and again; he was rarely this rough with a barehanded spanking. The gloves certainly gave his palm some protection. But wearing them seemed to help him achieve a distance that he couldn’t when we usually played. It almost hurt worse than the paddle.
Tears streamed down my face, and my chest ached with the sobs that would have crushed me if most of my weight hadn’t been supported on the bed. I gasped and cried and pleaded until I was near the breaking point. The moment I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he finished with one sharp slap and urged me to sit up. I cried out at that pain, too. I had no idea how long we’d been at it; a half hour at least. The slightest pressure burned.
“Stand up. Turn around.” His hands skated over the smooth surface of the dress as I turned, and he reached up to pull the zipper down. “Let’s take this off.”’
I wriggled out of the dress, and my bottom lip trembled at the cold.
With excruciating tenderness, he pulled me down again and cradled me against his warm, naked chest. I leaned my head against his shoulder, my eyes sti
ll leaking tears, my nose running. He held me, pulling off his gloves to stroke my hair back from my face, and murmured, “Check in, Sophie.”
“Green, Sir,” I assured him between sniffles. “Can we stop and get me some aloe, though?”
He kissed my forehead. “We certainly may.” He went to the bathroom and returned with the tube of green goo. “Bend over.”
I leaned over the bed and braced myself for the cool touch of the gel. I still jumped a little when it touched my skin. In my mind, I saw each enflamed ridge of the handprints Neil had left on me as he smoothed the gel over the welts.
“Better?” he asked gently.
“Yeah. We can go on when you’re ready.” I didn’t need to tell him that we were done with the spanking part. He would have taken the hint.
He went to the bathroom to put away the aloe and wash his hands. When he returned, he was fully back in Dom mode. “Stand up.”
I straightened, and he turned my shoulders, cueing my body to follow. I stood in front of him, close enough that our toes were touching. Without looking up to meet his eyes, our height difference left me staring straight at his collarbones.
“Well, now that we’ve moved on from that bit of business,” he said, pointing to the gloves still lying on the bed. “I think we can get to the part you’ve been looking forward to.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as he traced a damp lock of hair that had plastered itself to my neck. I licked my lips in anticipation of him licking another, similar part of me. “I was looking forward to everything, Sir.”
He made a sound too brief to be a chuckle, but I could tell he was pleased with the answer all the same. He reached past me, his body tantalizingly close to mine, and lifted the black leather cuffs. “Lie on your back, across the bed.”
I sat, gasping at the pressure against my too-aware welted and bruised skin. I scooted back carefully.
Neil leaned over me, his chest hair brushing the desperate peaks of my nipples as he fastened the soft leather cuffs around my wrists. They attached by a chain to a discreet metal loop soldered to the bed frame and kept my arms stretched high above my head. I fought the urge to lift my hips and rub myself against the front of his trousers, but my hips shifted, anyway.
He slid down my body, his warm skin teasing my goose pimpled flesh as he went, and knelt between my feet with the spreader bar in his hands. I closed my eyes; my body was probably vibrating like a violin string, my anticipation ran so high.
In the past, Neil had expressed concern that I might break his neck when he was going down on me. I’d kneed Emir in the nose before. It was always beyond my control. The sensations overwhelmed me, and I snapped shut like a bear trap. It was considerably harder to do that when your ankles were kept apart by a metal rod.
The cuffs closed around my ankles. Neil, still at my feet, gripped my hips and gave me a gentle tug. “Nothing too tight? Nothing hurting or rubbing?”
“No, Sir.” As much as I liked pain, I’d learned that I did not like chafing or rope burns the first time I’d been bound in a shrimp tie. While the sting had been amazing at the time, the aftermath—and wearing ice packs in the sides of my sports bra to cool the burn—had not been. Neil had felt horrible, I still had two thin scars on the sides of my ribcage, and I’d definitely learned my lesson.
He made me wait a moment, just staring down at me as I trembled, ankles held wide apart. I tested, tried to turn my knees together, but it was no use. They would never touch.
He slid his hands up my thighs then back to my bent knees in a lazy, repetitive stroke that sped my breath. When he did lean over me, I jolted. My clit and pussy throbbed with my heartbeat. He brushed my labia with his nose and took a deep, audible sniff. The chains above my head clinked as I pulled against them. Vulnerability had a strange effect on me. Being held down tricked my brain into freak-out mode. A whimper of fear slipped from my throat.
“You must be—” He broke off to pinch my folds together over my clit and rub gently up and down. “Very anxious, right now.”
My breath shuddered from my chest.
He kept up the rolling motion of my labia over my clit as he continued. “I know it gets to you, not being able to hide yourself from me. Really, I could do anything…”
He spread me and used his other hand to flick my clit, hard. A short, sharp, “Ah!” of pain burst from me. I’d just started craving contact, and there he was, making me resist it again. Sir was so, so good at his job.
“I could make you really miserable, you know.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation. He petted my waxed-bare vulva, soothing the pain and driving me crazy at the same time. “I could keep you here for hours, and never let you come until you’re frantic for it.”
One part of my brain shouted, Yes!, because I knew how worth it the wait would be. The other part shouted, No!, because while I was definitely turned on, I was also exhausted from the party. Hours of sex really would be torment, but not the good kind. “Is that what you plan to do, Sir?”