“You know how to present your ass to me.” He bent down and fit a cuff around her ankle to hold her in place.
She frowned and looked over his shoulder. He’d never used any tie she couldn’t get out of. He’d always asked her first. They’d talked over everything. He’d told her up front punishments were different. Safe words were off the table. He was solely in charge, and she’d agreed. She might cry foul eventually, but he knew her well enough to know she was stubborn as hell and he would have to do something a lot worse than this to get her to run from him.
He cuffed her left ankle and then did the same with each wrist. He pulled a scrunchie from his pocket, gathered her hair and secured it into a messy knot. Some would escape, but she couldn’t hide from him the way he knew she wanted to use her hair to do.
“Now I think we’re ready. You look beautiful as always, Seychelle.” He curved his palm around the back of her neck gently to give her courage, something he couldn’t help doing with her, then ran his finger down her spine as he walked around her again and picked up the tawes.
Already his body was anticipating this. He could feel himself sinking into that place of a sexual rush, a sexual high, and he hadn’t even gotten started. It was in his mind, his blood already hot. He rubbed her bottom. Cupped her pussy. Teased her pussy lips. Flicked her clit with tawes, letting her feel the leather.
“You like that, baby?” He patted her pussy with it gently. “We’ll see how well you like it, when we’re done.”
He struck her without warning, using a little muscle, because honestly, this little thing hardly gave much of a sting in his opinion, but she jumped and then settled. He peppered her bottom with the tawes, lighting her up on both cheeks, and then the backs of her thighs. He was right about his woman. Her pussy glistened; her clit was inflamed. Her ass was marked, but she didn’t make a sound. After several minutes, he stopped and picked up the second tawes.
“Okay, baby, we’re at the main event. What are you being punished for, Seychelle?”
“Because my man loves this shit and wants an excuse to use his fun little toys on me.”
He rubbed the marks, his cock swelling to alarming proportions. Bog, she was killing him, challenging him like this. He fucking loved it. His hand slipped over the curve of her red bottom, fingers dipping into the heat of her pussy. She was so hot and greedy, her silken sheath tried to suck his fingers deep.
“So needy, baby. You want more, don’t you? That is exactly the answer that will buy you more. I’ll ask again, why are you being punished?”
“Because my man is being a total asshole right now?”
He patted her ass, smiled and let loose with the medium tawes. Her breath hissed out, and two thin lines that looked like they could welt appeared on her left cheek. Savage rained down more strokes, letting himself enjoy the way her skin bounced, taking the thinner split leather, that terrible bite, and smacked her over and over.
She jerked and moved her bottom, as if trying to get away, but there was nowhere for her to run. He stopped with the vertical stripes and rubbed them with the heel of his hand and then his fingernails. He had spent time on those stripes, taking them from the tops of her buttocks to the sweet curve and then down the backs of her thighs. The tawes was a more moderate punishment, especially if you used it the way he had, careful of his woman, but he still had made sure she felt every stroke he’d laid on her.
“You want to tell me why you’re lying over that bench with your gorgeous ass in the air and your pussy on display for me to punish, Seychelle?”
A quiet little sob escaped, and then she sniffed. “You asked me a question and I refused to answer you.”
“That’s right. Would you like to answer it now?” Deliberately, Savage continued to rub her sore bottom to keep it inflamed, but he gently circled her clit and then strummed it and flicked. When her body shuddered, he bent and used his tongue, stroking caresses and then devouring the liquid spilling from her. He wanted to keep her on edge, mix pleasure and pain until her body didn’t know one from the other, until she needed them together to get that explosive rush.
He’d promised to train her, and he used every opportunity, even their punishments. He straightened and tapped her back with the tawes to remind her to answer him immediately. He had to get control back, not necessarily of her. He had to get his control back before he got her, or a member of his club, killed.
“I had a damn nightmare, Savage. I barely remember it. It was all jumbled up. Monsters chasing me in the forest or something silly like that.” Seychelle’s voice was a barely heard whisper, her tone not matching the defiance of her statement.