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“Yes, thank you, Sir.”
Rope and leather were just what she needed to truly empty her mind and recalibrate—much better than bubble bath and wine.
As the soft, strong rope wound across her breasts, between her legs and around her torso, the tension eased from her body, knot by knot. He finished by having her cross her arms over her breasts. He then added more rope, tying her wrists together and securing them to the rope harness he’d created around her torso. Jess drifted peacefully as he worked, fully relaxed now.
When he was done, Master Oscar attached wide, fleece-lined cuffs to her ankles. He attached each cuff to its own length of chain hanging from the pulley system on the rack. “Here we go,” he said, turning the pulley to hoist her into the air. She was lifted higher and higher, until she was hanging upside down by her ankles, her hair sweeping the mat.
Jess’s heart picked up its pace as she adjusted to the unusual position. She felt especially vulnerable, not only immobilized but upside down, her legs spread wide. A crowd was beginning to form around the station, though from her vantage point all she could see was their feet, variously shod in boots, stilettos or nothing at all.
“You look ravishingly beautiful,” her scene partner said from above her. “You were born to be bound.”
Yes, she agreed silently. I was.
“Ten strokes to each lovely thigh. You will count for me,” he added, snapping a single tail in the air with a whoosh.
“Yes, Sir,” she managed. The blood was rushing to her head, making her slightly dizzy as she swayed in her bonds.
The first flick stung like a bee on her right inner thigh, though the pain quickly transmuted into something dark and sexual.
“One,” she gasped.
As she drew in her breath, the ropes tightened around her body. She adored the juxtaposition of her tightly swaddled body with her bare, spread legs. Being upside down added a powerful element of erotic helplessness, especially when Master Oscar gave her body a gentle push, causing her to sway in her bonds.
The second stroke landed on the opposite thigh. As he snapped and flicked, Jess continued her breathy counting, tears stinging her eyes as she struggled to handle the mounting pain of the lashing.
Through it all, as exciting and delicious as it was, she couldn’t quite let go of what had happened, or almost happened before Master Cameron had left her alone.
She closed her eyes, imagining it was Master Cameron wielding the whip with such finesse, Master Cameron urging her on, praising her, stroking her welted skin with his strong, sure hand…
“Twenty,” she finally cried, the tears flowing freely now, the pleasure and pain entwining in a confusion of nearly overwhelming sensation. She was lowered carefully to the mat until she lay once again on her back.
The ankle cuffs were removed, and Master Oscar crouched beside her, unknotting and unwinding the rope he’d taken such care to bind her with. “You took a lovely whipping,” he said, smiling down at her as she struggled to catch her breath. “You’ll need some aftercare for those welts. I’ll call over one of the slaves to see to it.”
“I’ll take care of her, Oscar,” said a deep, masculine voice that sent shivers up Jess’s spine. “I’m her mentor.”
Chapter 17
I’m her mentor. It’s perfectly appropriate for a mentor to administer aftercare, even if he wasn’t involved in the scene. More than that, it’s the right thing to do with a newbie. She needs me.
Internal permission given, Cameron led a seemingly dazed Jess to a small recovery room down the hall from the main dungeon.
Though there were three recovery couches there, the space was, happily, unoccupied. Cameron guided her to the small couch. Taking one of the large, folded towels from the end table, he spread it over the cushions.
“Lie down here so I can tend to those welts,” he said, pleased he sounded in control.
She lay without speaking, no doubt still coming down from the intense scene. He’d arrived at the tail end, pushing through a small crowd to get a better view. She had been breathtakingly sexy, bound in beautifully knotted rope, her hair brushing the ground, her long, bare legs spread wide, the whip flicking against her inner thighs. Cameron had had a nearly uncontrollable compulsion to push Oscar away and take over.
He returned to the couch with salve and a bottle of chilled water. Crouching beside her, he unscrewed the cap on the water and handed the open bottle to her. Lifting her head, Jess took a long drink and handed it back to him.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said quietly.
Cameron recapped the bottle and set it on the end table. Popping the cap of the salve, he squirted a dollop onto his fingers. Most of the marks she’d received were superficial and would fade by morning, but there was one ridged, red welt on her left thigh that needed attention.
