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Then stepping back again, he brought the crop’s leather tip between her legs and lightly tapped her sex. He turned it on its side and used the edge of the tip to pry her apart along the seam of her vulva. She felt the stiff leather corner against the entrance ofherbody.
"It stings more if it’s wet,” he said with his devil’s grin and for a split second she wondered…what if Malcolm was the devil? With a riding crop in her cunt, she could almostbelieveit.
So what if he was? She wanted him allthesame.
He dipped the riding crop’s tip into her sex again, wetting it with her ownfluids.
"Insult to injury,”shesaid.
He held his arms wide, smiled, and bowed. "The name of the game, mydarling.”
She nodded heracquiescence.
"Here are the rules,” he said. "You survive my crop, you earn my cock. A hundred strikes of this.” He lifted the crop into the air. "For a hundred strokes of this.” He pointed casually at his crotch and she could see the outline of his erection through the pale breeches. The trousers adhered so tightly to his body she could even see one long vein running from the base along to the shaft to the tip. She knew that vein. She’d licked it with her owntongue.
A hundred strokes of his cock? She’d come after the first ten, if not on the veryfirst.
"Count for me,” he said. "Starting at ahundred.”
He stood behind her and she braced herself. What was he waiting for? Was he torturing her with suspense? Takinghisaim?
"Admiring the view,” he said as if reading her thoughts. She blushed hot at the flattery and smiled. Then he wiped the smile off her face with one quick crack of the crop. It struck high on her thigh in a spot she’d never associated with agony before. It burned likeGreekfire.
She cried out in shock and Malcolmlaughed.
The bastardlaughedather.
"Count, dear,” he said, his voicechiding.
"Onehundred.”
"Did it hurt?” he asked, tenderly touching the burning welt on herthigh.
"Yes,”shesaid.
"I’m sorry, darling.” He kissed his fingertips and touched them to the welt. "So verysorry.”
Then he kissed her lips softly and massaged her nipples. She moaned in the back of her throat. Her body was a carnival of sensations—the stinging pain, the swelling of her breasts, the tingling of her lips as he kissed her. Her head spun. Did he want to hurt her? If so, then why apologize and kiss her to make upforit?
"There we go, love,” he said. "Only ninety-nine to go. Don’t feel too bad. When I was fifteen, I was caught buggering my neighbor’s lady wife. I would have traded my left ball for a punishmentlikethis.”
"Were youbeaten?”
"Iwas.”
"Withacrop?”
"Abullwhip.”
Shegasped.
"Like I said, it could be worse. So count your blessings when you count mykisses.”
He struck her again with the crop, kissing her hipthistime.
"Ninety-nine,” she said throughthepain.
"Such a good girl,” Malcolm said, hitting the side of her neck over the pulse point. "Beautiful and brave. You can’t know how much youpleaseme…”
