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The whip cracked against my vulnerable, upturned ass once again and I shrieked. The pain returned and with it, my desire inevitably rose once more. My core throbbed and my clit pulsed greedily, wanting to feel his firm touch between my thighs once more. Always, my body was ready to betray me.
“Give in, Kassandra. It will be much easier if you do.”
“But it hurts,” I cried out. “I can’t.”
“But it also fills you with need, doesn’t it, little warrior?”
His heated fingertips glided along my slickness, discovering just how turned on I was by his brutality. He was right. His darkness demanded my obedience and it turned me on. I wallowed in arousal and utter shame.
His finger pressed roughly against my clit and I shuddered with pleasure.
The lash bit into my skin once more, but he continued to rub between my legs, pinching and arousing me to distraction. Initially, the harsh stroke from the thick leather seared with pain, but with Markos working my needy flesh, I burned hot with desire too. Soon, I was breathless with it, the pain no longer overwhelming me. Again and again he whipped me, but the pain was quickly morphing into fervent arousal and I was swiftly losing control of it.
He demanded my arousal and took command of it. My pleasure was his and he was going to do what he wanted with it. His touch left me no doubt that he was going to make me come at the very same time he was punishing me.
“Pain. Pleasure. Two sides of the same coin, don’t you think, Kassandra?”
I moaned. I knew he was right.
“I own you. Every single inch of you. I’ll teach you that you will only find pleasure when I allow it. That you’ll long for me to hurt you, just as much as you’ll need me to fuck you.”
I shuddered, breathless with desire.
A potent combination of pain and pleasure coiled in the depths of my belly, demanding release but I knew that I couldn’t let it free until Markos gave me permission. My mind and body had become conditioned to obey him. I couldn’t disobey him even if I tried.
The whip cracked against my skin again.
I cried out, the sound a strangled amalgamation of agony and lust.
“You’ll wait, little warrior. Only I can grant you release, remember that.”
“Please!” I begged, my fingers wrapping around the ropes that held me tight. My spine arched wildly, lifting my ass up high so that he could whip me again or, so he had better access to my pussy. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t really care.
I just wanted more. I craved his touch, whether it was with his fingers or his whip. It didn’t matter anymore. It was an addiction and I needed my next hit.
I trembled, the fiery tendrils of passion boiling the blood in my veins, setting every nerve ablaze and demanding my compliance. Hot, ready, and needy, I struggled to hold back, but I knew that I must. He edged me closer to closer to orgasm, pressing hard for a while and pulling back just when I needed it most.
“Mine,” he growled, and I screamed with frustration.
“I’m yours,” I answered, my voice strained with unreleased arousal.
His hand pulled away from my pussy and my resulting strangled cry sounded pitiful even to my own ears.
He flicked his wrist and the whip popped slightly against my flesh. I watched impatiently as he dipped the whip into an oversized bowl beside him. In my haze of pleasure, I hadn’t noticed it before.
On the bedside table was a match. His fingers reached for it and I began to grow incredibly uneasy. With a flick of his wrist, the match flared to life, and with it, my panic. Time slowed to a crawl as his fingers descended down toward the whip.
It ignited with an angry rush of air.
In his hands, he held a flaming whip. I screamed with panic.
My orgasm was simmering, and his hand returned to its place between my legs.
Fuck.
I wasn’t ready for this.
He didn’t care.
