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Sean adjusted something near her head before he pressed her face down. Divine softness cushioned the periphery of her face. She hadn’t known the table had the same kind of arm as a massage table. Bless him. Now she could breathe, and this would alleviate any tension on her neck. Other tables forced her to turn her head to the side, which stretched her muscles oddly and affected the sting of the whip.
The leather strips binding her wrists slackened and fell away. Sean’s strong, warm hands caressed a path up her back and down her arm, moving it into place. Cool leather cuffs encircled her upper arm and her wrist as her master belted her in place. He did the same thing with her other arm, and then he secured cuffs around her thighs just above the knees.
A thicker belt covered her lower back. It would keep her from squirming away from the whip. This was both a safety measure—if she moved and he struck an area he hadn’t intended to strike, it could cause internal damage—and another instrument to strip away control.
Being tightly bound called to Marcella’s soul in a way nothing else quite could. This, more than anything else, would help her get through this stage of the game. Her pussy already wept, begging for his touch. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, welcoming the beginnings of subspace.
His breath tickled her ear, and she thought he might kiss her, but then she remembered his rules. No touching.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this, Cella. My Cella. My slave, bound with her legs spread, her ass and her pussy open and waiting to take anything I want to dish out. I could leave you like this and do nothing but stroke your skin. I could clamp your clit and your nipples. I could play with your ass, stretch out your pretty little anus in a hundred different ways. I could lay ice cubes all over your body and watch them melt.”
Cream gushed from her pussy at the pictures he painted. Her breaths came harder and faster. Yes, that’s what she wanted. She wanted him to use her body, to play with her until she begged him to fuck her. And then she wanted him to take her any way he chose.
He moved away, and soft strips of leather brushed across her shoulders. She couldn’t count them, but she suspected he used a cat-o’-nine-tails. A tremor ran through her system. The last time someone had used a cat on her, things had not gone well. While no permanent damage had been done and her lover hadn’t been at all abusive, she hadn’t been able to orgasm that night.
Concentrating, she tried to figure out what kind of falls the cat had. She detected no beads or flat pieces, and that made her immeasurably relieved. The falls explored her back. They trailed over her ass and down her thighs. After some time passed, she felt her muscles relaxing under this tender torture.
Then the cat disappeared. Before long, the sensation of leather caressing her skin returned, but the number of falls seemed to have multiplied by a hundred. He’d exchanged the cat for a heater. The falls were shorter and more numerous, and the sting it delivered tended to be minimal.
“I’m going to warm you up, slave. I’ll tell you when it’s going to hurt.”
Marcella appreciated the warning. She didn’t fear pain or the whip; she just didn’t find it erotic.
The first few smacks felt nice. He peppered her back with the softest sensations. The steady staccato beat a rhythm into her muscles that relaxed them. Her entire body turned to liquid.
Fog enshrouded her mind. Just when she thought she might fall asleep, Sean spoke again. “You’re warmed up, my Cella. These next ones will sting. Give me your color.”
She didn’t hesitate to answer, and her speech slurred when it came out. “Green, Master.”
Not a second passed before white heat seared a path near her left shoulder blade. That harsh sting had come from the cat. Tears pricked behind her eyelids, and she sucked in her breath.
“Breathe, Marcella.”
She almost jumped at the sound of Fuller’s voice. She had completely forgotten he was there to witness this torment.
“Breathe, Cella.” Sean’s command echoed Fuller’s recommendation.
She inhaled and exhaled, taking slow, controlled breaths that the next sting of the cat ruined. The tears broke free and fell, but she held back the sobs so he wouldn’t know she didn’t love this. He rained more blows across her back. She tried to give herself over to the pain, but she couldn’t seem to find that place where it turned enjoyable.
The blows halted abruptly. “What color?”
She inhaled deeply and dug even deeper for her resolve. “Green, Master.”
Leather sang through the air and smacked sharply on the fleshy part of her ass. This stimulated her a little more, but it didn’t do for her what she knew it did for other submissives. Sean expected for this to not only arouse her, but to bring her to orgasm. If she were able to respond to this the way Gretchen did, she would have climaxed by now.
