Four Beautiful Letters (Desire Island 4) - Page 11

Then…nothing. For several long seconds she was left alone in the silence, her skin tingling, her cunt throbbing. She held herself rigid, tensing for whatever was coming next.

She startled at the sudden, thuddy crash of what could only be a flogger’s tresses between her shoulders. The leather stung along her back and crashed against her already tender ass. She gurgled in pain against the gag, jerking in her restraints when the stinging tips of leather kissed her spread cunt.

The flogger was replaced by cool hands moving lightly over her skin. Nick cupped her flaming ass cheeks. She gasped against the inflated ball in her mouth as his fingers moved in a slow, sensual swirl over her cunt. She shuddered with pleasure as they slid inside of her.

All at once, his wonderful hands were withdrawn. She was alone again for several seconds in the silence and the dark.

She jumped at the sudden icy cold sensation moving over her ass and down between her legs. It took her brain a moment to catch up with her body and label the object as ice. He ran it along her labia and moved it in a frozen circle around her distended clit. Then he slipped the cube inside her, where it instantly began to melt in her heat.

She cried out against the gag when the icy chill against her skin was suddenly replaced with the sear of fire. Melted wax! It landed in scalding droplets over her skin, splashing on her ass and thighs. Then came the bite of a single tail where the wax had cooled, snapping it away in bursts of searing leather.

She didn’t want to give up—to give in. She wanted to take whatever he meted out, but the sensations were piling atop one another, each new pleasure and pain adding to the wild, rising tide of feeling inside her. She was trembling, sweat slicking her body against the leather table, her heart racing as she struggled to breathe, nostrils flaring.

As the whip flicked, relentless against her skin, she tried to rein in her strong reaction. If she’d been able to move—to hear or speak or see—it would have been easier to handle. But held down as she was, the sensations were overwhelming. It was too much—she was going to have to use her safe signal. Panic washed over her like a bucket of icy water.

She jerked at her restraints, her hands about to make fists of their own accord when the restraints at her wrists were suddenly freed. The pillow was gently pulled from underneath her and her ankles, too, were released.

Strong arms lifted her, settling her on the table, this time on her back. But instead of removing the gag, blindfold and earplugs, Nick again restrained her, re-cuffing her wrists and ankles to the table so her arms and legs were spread wide.

Something cold and hard dragged along her throat and pricked lightly at the hollow where her clavicles met.

A knife!

What if he cut her, accidentally or on purpose? While she knew on some level that Nick would keep her safe, her body reacted on autopilot, the tremble rising from deep inside, her teeth actually chattering with fear.

One of the plugs was pulled from her ear. Nick’s warm breath tickled her skin as he spoke, his lips brushing her earlobe. She relaxed at once, though her heart continued to race.

“Shh,” he soothed, his hand cupping her cheek. “Calm down, Sophia. You’re safe with me. I promise. All you have to do is remain very, very still. Give yourself over to the experience. Surrender to the blade. Surrender to me, Sophia.”

As he spoke, he stroked her cheek and then moved his hand down her throat and onto her chest. He pressed his palm gently but firmly against her pounding heart. “I’ll stop if you need me to. Just make the hand gesture.”

His touch was soothing, his voice low and even.

She kept her hands still.

“Good girl,” he said softly. “I’m proud of my brave girl. I know you want to feel the tip of the knife dragging along your skin. To know that with just a flick, I could draw blood. Eventually, we will go to that place, but not today. For now, I just want to play, Sophia. I just want to give you the promise of erotic pain—a taste of the freedom that comes from complete surrender…”

His words and soothing touch calmed her further, resettling her in a good place—a deeply submissive, receptive place. She wanted what he offered—all of it.

“That’s it,” he cooed. “You’re mine, Sophia. Mine to control, to use, to torture, to adore…”

The plug was replaced, enveloping her once more in a vacuum of silence, save for the rush of blood pulsing in her ears. The blade slid again over her skin, its point drawing circles around first one nipple and then the other. It moved in a scraping line down her body. She stiffened, tensing as the cold metal made contact with her spread cunt. But it was only the flat of the blade that pressed between her legs. Still, just the proximity of that sharp knife moving over her most delicate parts made her tremble, her heart skittering and careening like a trapped animal against her rib cage.

Tags: Claire Thompson Desire Island Erotic
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