Brilliant shocks of white fork across the graphite sky, and the rumble of thunder arrives sooner, closer, announcing the storm’s approach. He seems to be timing his hits with the crackle of lightning, flogging my butt and legs in sync with the jagged strobes of light.
This can’t be safe. We’re standing in the middle of a pasture, like targets begging to be struck. But the danger heightens the thrill. I’m naked and restrained to a fence, staring down an imminent tempest as another violent storm slams against my back.
Each searing lash of leather magnifies the soreness of its predecessor. But beneath the flames of discomfort lies a tingling, all-consuming realization.
I love this.
The restraints on my wrists, the futility of struggle, the stabbing pain, and Jarret’s unwavering attention on my body—all of it enables me to connect to my sexual self in a way I’ve never connected during actual sex.
It’s like I’m crossing a bridge between what I’ve experienced and what I’ve only dared to fantasize about.
Desires are dangerous, and I’ve suppressed so many in my life, never permitting myself to act on submissive tendencies. I feared my cravings would make me needy and weak and turn me into a doormat. As a result, I became sexually anorexic and lost my appetite for pleasure. When I engaged in sex, all I felt in my body was panic.
I’ve never even had an orgasm with a man.
But I hoped. I still hope. With the right person, I know I can give him total control over my body.
Like now.
Jarret broke through my misgivings. He’s the only one who has ever restrained me, spanked me, and made me so damn aroused I can’t think straight. When I’m with him, I actually feel like a sexual being, with none of the hesitation and disconnect I’ve experienced during conventional sex.
And his dick hasn’t even left his pants.
Lightning crashes and breaks apart the inky night, reminiscent of what sex would be like with him. Stormy and powerful, combustible and dramatic, white-hot, perilous, and electrifying, with thundery flashes of radiance that burn into my retinas. Just thinking about it charges my pulse and floods my pussy with wetness.
Behind me, his breathing accelerates with each ruthless swing of the crop, the lashes growing faster, harder, until a strange illumination flickers across the field.
“Did you see that?” I hold still, straining my eyes through the dark.
“St. Elmo’s Fire.” He drops the crop, and his sweat-damp chest slides against my back. “Keep watching.”
A few seconds later, an eerie glow dances through the pasture, accompanied by the bright white of electrical zig-zags high above. The lightning illuminates the meadow and the herd of horned cattle standing in the stillness.
“St. Elmo’s Fire?” My mind trudges through the sensations firing in my body. I can’t focus with him all hard and hot against me.
“It’s the discharge of electricity from the storm.”
Spiky bolts endlessly protrude from the sky, sprinkling an incandescence of light along the silhouettes of horns.
“Why is it glowing on the tips of the bull’s horns?”
“They’re steers.” He nuzzles my neck. “When the electrical field strength reaches a high level of volts, it gravitates to pointed objects, like the long horns.”
“Does it hurt them?”
“No.” He glides talented fingers around my breast. “They probably feel the static.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Me, neither.” His lips feather down my neck, making me moan. “Nothing compares to you.”
He shoves a hand between my legs and sinks his fingers inside. The roar of thunder clashes with the panting sounds of his groans. I melt against him, gasping as his clothes rub against my sore backside.
My orgasm has been building since the drive to the prison. With the thrust of his fingers and the raid of his lips on my neck, I’m seconds from detonation.
“Don’t come.” He grazes his teeth, followed by the ravishing slide of his tongue.
“Jarret.” I moan. “I have to. It’s too much.”
“Not until it rains. When you feel the first drop, you can let go.”
My gaze darts to the dark canvas of sky as jolts of light flash like a camera. He continues to fuck me with his hand, curling those sinful fingers along my inner muscles as I shake and wheeze uncontrollably.
His other hand fondles my chest, kneading and cupping my breasts. “I fucking love your tits.”
“I need to come.” I quake with the effort to hold it back, but I’m falling fast. “Oh God, Jarret. I’m right there.”
“Wait.” He rolls his tongue around my earlobe. “Just a few more seconds.” His thumb finds my clit, thrumming and torturing. “Three… Two…”
“Jarret, I need…” Everything inside me tightens and squeezes.
“One.”
The sky opens to a deluge of rain, and I come. Fucking hell, I come violently, wildly, screaming and writhing, throbbing and panting. My vision blackens. My legs give out, and my insides shatter into a million fiery sparks.