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“I want your feet flat on the ground tonight,” he explained as he crouched to wrap a set of soft, Velcro cuffs around her ankles. “You’re free to use your safe words. And I want you to get everything possible that you can out of this experience.”
Goosebumps rose on her arms, and the air conditioning felt extra cold.
“Come here, Kelsey.”
Grabbing a burst of confidence, she went to the pole.
He secured her ankles to the spreader bar that he’d already adjusted. “Now reach up your hands.”
Nathan stood and tugged her into place then tightened the cuffs one more notch. “Let me know if your shoulders or arms feel numb.”
She was stretched almost uncomfortably far, which meant her motions were restricted. There wouldn’t be any escaping his lash.
“Do you need anything? A blindfold? Gag? Your nipple clamps?”
The thought of the distraction they would provide made her warm a little. “I thought my nipples couldn’t be exposed.”
“I can put them on under your top.”
“Then yes.”
He moved in front of her and reached inside her clothing to tease her nipples until they beaded. Then he clamped each, a little closer to the tip than she ever had. “That freaking hurts, Sir.”
“Give it a couple of minutes,” he encouraged. “Once we get going, you’ll be glad. Otherwise, you wouldn’t feel them.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
She turned her head to look when he reached inside the bag again. Her eyes widened when she saw him pull out clothespins. “What are they for?”
“Your toes.”
In reaction, she arched her feet, but he’d fastened her so tightly it was difficult to get away.
“Uncurl them immediately.”
“I’m scared to.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Do I have to?” She squeezed her eyes closed while she followed his order.
He placed the first one. It didn’t hurt as bad as she’d feared, and her confidence rose to heroic proportions. Then he placed another on her other foot.
She rocked her ankles as much as she was able, but the pins wouldn’t dislodge.
“Are they painful?”
“No.” That wasn’t the right word. “It’s more annoying than anything.”
As he grabbed his flogger, she noticed that the clothespins were becoming uncomfortable and the nipple clamps were starting to bite. Then she became aware that her brain was receiving so much sensory information she couldn’t pick out which thing hurt the worst.
“Go with it,” he suggested. “If you struggle, it will seem magnified.”
She gritted her teeth and rested against the pole.
He skimmed his fingers up her legs and she instantly relaxed. But the funniest thing was that she was unconcerned whether anyone was watching or not. This was about her and Nathan. Self-consciousness vanished.
He tucked her hem into her waistband and rubbed her buttocks. She let the pole take even more of her weight.
“Yes,” he said.
As he had done before, he pressed his body against hers. The position was familiar and reassuring, and the weight of him made her feel more secure. But it wasn’t just that. His spicy, masculine scene and the dominant way he handled her allowed her to give herself over.
She felt his erection against her. The knowledge he wanted her as badly as she craved him equaled the power balance.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, sub?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“Tell me.” He spoke directly into her ear.
No one but her would ever hear him. He was masterful at that, creating a cocoon where she was free to be who she wanted.
“Tell me, Kelsey,” he repeated.
“You’re going to flog me, Sir.”
“Are you going to like it?”
“Yes.”
He pulled back far enough to warm her up with gentle spanks, then harsh rubs.
Near her, she saw a woman being led to the St. Andrew’s cross. And she heard a gasp as a man was hoisted from the ground.
The volume of the music increased and the wall in front of her was a swirling, soothing pink. Deviation provided an erogenous feast that seeped through her.
Nathan began flogging her.
With a soft mewl, she exhaled.
The leather felt like soft caresses on her buttocks, between her thighs. Because of the outfit, some of the hits licked her skin, others fell mostly unnoticed on the leather halter top.
She was aware of pressure from the clamps and the clothespins and the way he stroked her right forearm. Pain and pleasure merged to become the same sensation.
“You’re doing well.”
Suddenly he increased the ferocity of the flogging. The strands were no longer gentle, but hard and biting, slicing into her bare skin.
