He leaned into the sobbing girl and licked at her tears, cupping her face gently and whispering to her. She nodded over and over. He kissed her and then backed off, walking away, muscles rippling as he coiled the whip. Abruptly he turned back to her, lashing out, striking repeatedly, turning her body into a series of red stripes forming patterns over her breasts, belly, sex and thighs. She didn’t scream, but tears continued to run silently down her face.
The whip master turned his head and Scarlet’s heart stuttered. He was no man. He was a teen, already with a man’s body, all muscle, his cock large and powerful, his eyes as ice-cold as the densest glacier. She recognized Savage staring at her before he walked back to the girl and once again licked at her tears, his hands roaming over her body, his cock sliding into her slick pussy as he took her hard and fast, uncaring of the blood running down her body.
Scarlet was staring into those same blank eyes right at that moment. She had no idea how she connected with his past so clearly, that terrible vignette of his life, but those images of his teenage training sent chills down her spine.
“You see me,” he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “Now we understand each other.” Once again, he moved out of her sight. “You fuckin’ bring him back.”
The sound of the belt snapping was so loud she jumped, her body flinching under the crack of leather. Real fear skittered down her spine. Absinthe’s hand moved into her hair and stroked down the back of her head. His cock jerked, the first sign of life. She closed her eyes and let herself envision him sitting in the chair by the fire, concentrating on his kitten. Stroking her hair, murmuring praise and reassurance.
She felt rather than heard movement, as Savage passed very close to her, the belt sliding over her back, just a whisper of leather. Another shiver crept down her spine. The danger felt all too real. Savage liked to see marks on pristine skin, and she was showing far too much skin. A chill seized her. Absinthe’s fingers in her hair curled, dug into her scalp. Massaged. His other hand curled around the nape of her neck, his thumb sliding along her jaw, encouraging her to use her mouth.
“Suck, kiska. You’re safe. No one can hurt you.” His hand dropped away from her neck, but the one remained unmoving in her hair, keeping that connection.
Triumph burst through her. He still felt far away, but his voice was that soft, reassuring blend of gentle and command that only he seemed capable of producing. She did as he said, sucking harder, feeling him growing in her mouth, the weight of him heavier, his girth stretching her lips. She needed him to come closer, to acknowledge that she was his kitten, not some vague girl in his past. That he knew who was in the room with him. His wife. His woman. His partner. She would find his trigger and be so careful that this didn’t happen again to him.
She ran her tongue up under the broad, velvety crown and flicked that sensitive spot, then rubbed, feeling his cock grow even harder. Now he was beginning to feel more like Absinthe, but he was still far away, not present, and Savage seemed to know, stalking back and forth like that horrible prowling jungle cat, moving closer and closer until he suddenly reached around her with the belt, looping it around her collar before she was even aware he was going to strike.
The leather tightened. She gasped. The weight of Absinthe’s hand pushed her head down onto his cock so she took him deeper.
“It’s all right, kiska. I’m here.”
But he wasn’t. He was close. So close. She could almost reach him, but he wasn’t quite there. She knew it. Savage knew it.
Savage bent down so that his breath was hot in her ear. “Did you know that when a woman is deprived of oxygen when she’s orgasming, it can be very addictive because it’s such a fuckin’ rush? It’s also damn dangerous because she can die. So that’s a rush as well. What do you think, pussycat? Do you want to play? Or do you want to swallow him down and get him off?”
The belt tightened a second time for just a split second, making her gasp again, and this time she deliberately took more of Absinthe down, her heart going crazy. Savage might really kill her. He was that crazy. She didn’t know anything about him, but even the scent of him was real. He smelled dangerous. Feral.
She had to think like a frightened kitten. She moved closer to Absinthe, using her throat to make distressed-like sounds to vibrate through his cock to both call to him and massage him. The images in his mind receded more, bringing him closer to her. She turned her eyes to his face, her gaze clinging to his. She didn’t realize tears were falling until he was blurry. Those crystal eyes filled with rolling red and orange flames. She wanted those flames gone. She wanted them to turn at least to blue flames.