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“Look at me.”
I do. Despite the shame, the fear, and the tension in me. Despite starting to feel my saliva gathering against the handle of the crop, I look up at him. The fucker won’t understand what I’m feeling anyway. He’s broken like that.
“This is going to hurt. You’re going to take it. And when you’ve learned your lesson, you’re going to thank me.”
For lack of being able to answer, I simply keep staring at him. To my surprise, he drops to his knees, and I only understand why when he unbuttons my pants. He takes his time rolling them down, sliding my legs out. His touch is delicate, his hands caressing my skin and promising me a kindness I know he can’t express.
My thong is next, and just like that, I’m completely naked and bound before him.
He stands up again, takes the crop from my mouth, and observes me silently.
“Kayla,” he says after a minute of silence. “There’s something you must never forget. I am not doing this because I secretly like you. There are no feelings involved, no secret obsession. I’m doing this because you tried to ruin my life. Always remember there will be no mercy in this relationship. There will be no kindness, no love. You are my captive. You will obey or you will suffer. Today, you suffer.”
I don’t have even a second to digest what he’s said.
The first time the tongue of the crop hits my right nipple, nothing happens for a second. Then I feel the fire spreading through the bud.
I gasp, surprised by a pain I should have expected. But it’s so much worse than I thought. He doesn’t even wait for me to get over the first hit. Before I know it, my other nipple is screaming in agony.
He alternatively hits both my nipples for what seems forever. All I can focus on is his beautiful body. The way his lean muscles tighten when he sends the crop flying through the air. The way his neck tenses when he makes contact with my body. He stays completely silent, focused on me while I focus on him. It’s the only way to survive the pain.
He takes a step back at some point, and I use the break to dig my desperate gaze into his.
“S-stop,” I rasp. I can barely take a breath.
He does leave my nipples alone, but instead, he taps my inner thigh. “Open.”
I do so right away, incapable of fighting back in the slightest. Without him having to insist, I open my legs as wide as I can.
The next tap startles me. Because it’s on my pussy. Because I’m spread open enough that the thick leather hits both my entrance and my clit. But mainly? Because of the very specific noise it makes.
Nate cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re incorrigible. What kind of little slut gets wet from getting her tits tortured with a crop?”
My eyes fall to the floor, earning me a stern order. “Look at me.”
“Please…” I beg as my eyes meet his. “Don’t…”
“It brings me immense joy to see you suffer in so many ways, little sunflower. The physical pain, the mental shame. It makes me feel alive.”
As he taps my clit again, I bite my lower lip, desperate to hold back the noise threatening to creep out. A whimpered moan isn’t the same as a painful whimper, and he knows that. I can’t let him hear it.
“Show me you’ve learned your lesson. Tell me who you belong to, Kayla. Whose wife are you?”
I drag in a desperate breath when he slaps my clit harder. Fire burns up my body and lights me up.
“Please…” I moan, unable to hold back a shiver. “Don’t… Don’t make me say it.”
The next hit is hard, painful, punishing.
“Whose. Wife. Are. You?” He punctuates every word with a lick of the crop’s tongue, bringing me despair and pleasure until I can’t take it anymore.
“Yours!” I cry out.
“That’s right. My precious little wife who is dripping from being hit with a crop. What a beautiful sight you are.”
Another hit makes me lose it. I’m done fighting back; I just want to take any pleasure I can. So I moan. I let it out loud and clear, my head dropping back.
“Good,” he purrs. “Give me more, little sunflower. Beg me to make you come with my crop.”
