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“If we’re lucky.”
A shudder of desire crashed through her, forcing a low moan from her throat.
“Would you like that?” Mason asked, trailing the leather tip along her skin again as he moved behind her. “Would you like me to systematically work through it all with you? Would it make your sweet pussy wet for me to know that I chose each and every item on those shelves with you in mind?”
Before she could even think of an answer, the crop struck, landing again and again on her ass. She hissed as the pain grew, the strokes continuing to fall until she was sure every inch of her bottom glowed a rosy pink.
God, it felt so good. And it wasn’t even close to enough pain.
“Please, Master,” she whimpered.
“More?”
“If it’s also what you wish, Master.”
His hum of satisfaction filled her with pride. “Good girl.” With that, he started back up with the crop.
The strokes fell in an erratic way, sometimes several in quick succession, other times with long pauses. They landed on her ass, breasts, stomach, upper and inner thighs in no pattern she could discern. Just when she thought she knew what would come next, everything changed again.
Once and only once, he brought the crop up between her legs. She screamed at the blinding pain.
By the time he tossed the crop aside, tears slid down her cheeks in a constant stream.
“You’re such a good girl,” Mason said, cupping her face with his hands, wiping the wetness from her cheeks with gentle brushes of his thumbs.
“Did I p-please you, Master?” she asked, her voice catching partway through as she struggled to control her tears.
His eyes told her all she needed to know. “You’re fucking perfect.”
A sense of calm spread out from her center, washing over her entire body. She was his perfect, good girl. She could handle anything as long as she knew that.
“Open,” Mason ordered, tapping two fingers against her lips. As soon as she did, he slid those two fingers into her mouth, pressing them against her tongue. “Suck. Get them nice and wet, little one.”
She followed his instruction with relish, swirling her tongue around his long, beautiful fingers, hoping this meant what she thought it meant.
Desire built in her chest when he lowered his hand, positioning it between her legs. That was quickly replaced by confusion when he froze in place, his fingertips hovering just over her clit, not quite touching.
“If you want to come, you’re going to have to work for it.”
She stared into his eyes for a few seconds, not yet comprehending. When it hit her what he meant, a blush turned her already heated skin into a raging bonfire.
“Show me,” Mason said, the power in his voice making her weak in the knees. “Show me how much you want it.”
Good God, how could something be so mortifying and so fucking hot at the same time? Closing her eyes, she tentatively shifted her hips, sliding her clit against his fingertips. A tiny whimper escaped her.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.” He sounded almost disappointed. “If you don’t want to come, we can move on.”
No fucking way. Embarrassment could fuck right off when there were orgasms to be had.
Screwing her eyes shut even tighter, she started to properly move. Rocking her hips back and forth, sliding her clit over his wet fingers at a constant pace. Lowering her body as far as the chain allowed, desperate for more pressure.
“That’s it,” Mason said, his voice like liquid smoke. “Writhe for me. Show me what a little slut you are.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, those words had a direct line to her pussy. “I need you inside me.” It came out high and wheedling—nothing like her normal voice.
“Finish what you started,” he commanded. “Only good girls who do what they’re told get what they want.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, she was so damn close. If only he would lift his fingers the tiniest bit, or lower the chain.
