I do what he says, getting on my knees before him, my arse up in the air.
He lifts his belt and snaps it against my upturned arse. I heave in a breath, rocking on my knees.
“Touch yourself,” he orders, underscoring his words with another flick of leather.
My fingers easily find my swollen, wet pussy, and I stroke it with a gasp of overwhelming pleasure. Oh, fuck, that feels good. I’ve touched myself before, and I’m no stranger to self-pleasure, but this… holy fuck, I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
I stroke with eager, rapid strokes, until I’m panting and squirming.
“Again,” he says, and the belt lands on my thighs. I squeal and stroke harder, faster, as he whips me a third time, and a fourth, crisscrossing lashes of the strap until my thighs, my arse, and my breasts burn and tingle almost as much as my needy, throbbing pussy.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he groans. “God, I love watching you.” He turns his wrist and flicks the belt right below the hem of my dress, catching the naked skin. I whimper, but lean back into the measured pain, needing more as I stroke myself closer to climax.
I’m so close I can’t breathe, my back painfully arched on the brink of coming, when he gives me the hardest swish of his belt yet.
“Stop.”
But I can’t, I’m so close to climaxing I can’t help the perfect exploration of my fingertips through my sex. He could beat me for all I care, I’m making myself climax.
“I said stop,” he says, this time the belt landing with a punishing blow, no more of the teasing sting or erotic caress. This is nothing but painful discipline.
Still, I don’t obey, and in the next fraction of a second I’m coming so hard I’m screaming, completely overcome with pleasure. My sex spasms while I stroke, milking every last perfect bit of pleasure from my orgasm.
His arms go around me, engulfing me as I climax, holding me while I rock against my fingers.
“You like to disobey, do you?” Mac asks in my ear, as I’m coming down from my climax. “You like to be punished, Bryn?”
Uh oh.
Thwap.
The belt lands on my arse again, hard and brutal, and I whimper from the burn it leaves in its wake.
“Then don’t you fucking stop.”
Is he angry? His eyes flash at me, his lips in a thin line when I look over my shoulder at him. He’s released the tail of his belt so it dangles, then folds it in half.
“You earned this,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve earned a proper punishment.”
I place both of my hands on the chaise. “My God, I couldn’t help myself,” I say, shaking my head from side to side, when he brings the folded belt back and thwacks it across my arse, hard.
“I said keep stroking yourself, Bryn. You disobeyed me. I made it clear what would happen if you did.”
I try to touch myself, but I came so hard I’m overly sensitive to the touch.
“I—I can’t,” I whisper. “It hurts.”
“You won’t be whipped unless you stop,” he says, holding his folded belt in his hand, prepared to punish me.
I meet his gaze, and know for certain he’s absolutely, dead serious.
Oh, God.
He takes a step toward me. “Need a demonstration?”
I shake my head, and gingerly touch my swollen folds. I wince at the painful touch, too sensitive, too much.
But that belt hurts more. So I do what he says.
After the first painful strokes, I’m building again, this time harder and faster, my whole body aflame as I finger and stroke myself.
Oh my God, I’m going to split apart from this. He circles me, tracing the folded leather as a warning over my skin, the cold hardness of it a reminder of the bite of pain I’ll get if I stop.
I move past the vivid pain until it feels better again, slowly stroking my slick, swollen folds until I’m on the cusp of coming again. He trails the leather down my heated, throbbing arse, as he leans down and whispers in my ear.
“Don’t you come until I give you permission, lassie. Understand me?”
I nod, my mouth parting as I hold his gaze.
“Good girl,” he says approvingly, the folded leather grazing over my shoulder. "Hold my eyes as you come."
I’m whimpering, panting. “May I? Please?” I whisper.
Oh fuck, I’ve never played the part of a submissive before, but this… This is so fucking hot. I love it. I want to see how far he can take me, and a little part of me wants to see how much I can please him. I want to make those eyes of his fill with intensity and desire.
He nods, bends, and places the sweetest, most gentle kiss on my forehead.
“Come, bonnie lass,” he whispers. “Come for me.”
The second he gives me permission, I stroke myself into a second, sweeter, more intense orgasm, one of the sweetest I’ve ever had. I writhe, wriggling my hips to milk the pleasure from my fingers, gasping as I come and come. I’m just on the verge of finishing when I’m hoisted up. By instinct, I wrap my legs around him, pushing my pelvis against his strong torso.