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“For what?”
“Because I put myself in danger after I committed to a relationship with you accepting your protection and care for me.”
He tied the final knot and stood back to appreciate his handiwork. He had been right. She looked like a queen of debauchery, dressed in coral pink lace lingerie, matching ropes, and stilettos, draped over the spanking bench with her black hair falling like a lush curtain around her face.
Brock felt himself drowning in the scent of her spicy aroma that flooded his nostrils. He drew a measured breath as he felt inundated by the emotions she unleashed inside him. It had been so long since he’d felt anything that it threatened to overwhelm him, leaving him weakened and panting. He briefly closed his eyes and willed the wayward feelings to the back of his mind until he could string them out later and dissect them properly.
“Even though this is punishment, I urge you to use your safeword if it becomes too much.”
“I’ll have you know, Mr. Carter, I am no sissy. I’ll take my punishment like—”
“I will know if I take you beyond your boundaries, Jordan. Should that happen, my wrath will alight.” He pinched her chin between his fingers and forced her eyes to his. “I want your promise, sub. You’ve been in the lifestyle long enough to know the reason we have safewords. If I have to safeword out because you don’t—”
“Very well, I promise.” She was surprised at the vehemence of his insistence but it once again served to set her mind at rest that he was a caring and disciplined Dom first and foremost.
He brushed her hair back and traced his fingers down the length of her spine. Her eyes flared and turned smoky as her passion reignited the desire to surrender to him. He could sense her heartbeat and feel her searching his soul. It unloosened the need to have more of her than a commitment to be his sub with a possibility of a future together. In fact, he was greedy and wanted it all. He was after her body, her heart, and her soul. He dragged in a calming breath and stepped back to compose himself. It was a foreign feeling to be this affected by a woman at the beginning of a scene. He needed to pull himself together… or he might just make a fool of himself and give in to the desire to skip the punishment and just fuck the shit out of her.
Jordan glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with expectancy. She took good care of her body and knew she looked good in the pink scraps of lace. His reaction exceeded her expectations. If she played her cards right, he might just ease up on the punishment… maybe even forgo it in favor of a much more pleasurable activity.
“Well, Sir, do you need guidance on how to continue?”
“Do you think it’s wise to challenge me, seeing as you’re trussed up?”
“I guess talking me into boredom could count as punishment,” she continued to sass him as she struggled to contain the excitement that rushed through her at the deep laugh that brought goose bumps to cover her from head to toe.
Jordan snorted when she noticed the magic wand in his hand. She felt like rolling her eyes as realization struck.
“Oh please! Orgasm denial?”
The mirth in Brock’s voice was clear as he chuckled while strapping the magic wand to her thigh before he positioned the round head flush against her clitoris.
“You sound almost disappointed, kitten.”
“In my opinion climax control is an archaic activity,” she mumbled while struggling to keep her loins from exploding with pleasure as he brushed a languid finger over her folds.
“But then BDSM practices were born in medieval times, weren’t they?”
Jordan didn’t respond. Her hands curled into fists. She closed her eyes as her pussy tingled in reaction to his sensual strokes.
“But, not to worry, little one. I won’t deny you the pleasure of climaxing but I do have one goal before ending this session. Guess what it is?”
“To prove you’re a master as a demon?” she quipped.
Brock guffawed. “I’m happy to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, love. No, Jordan, I am going to lavish you with a fête of perpetual pleasure and pain until you beg for mercy... or...” His deliberate hesitation brought her gaze up to where he stood, eyes gleaming at her with an omniscient look. “Or you fully realize what you did was wrong.”
Jordan thought it prudent not to respond, lest she snap at him and make her situation worse. She needed to remember that he was her Dom and she’d given him control over her body and punishments.
The slow vibration of the wand against her clit registered at the same time as a buzzing sound floated to her ears when he switched it on a low setting. He deliberately used it to stimulate and slowly unearth sensations buried deep within her core.
His intent was clear. He was in no hurry. Jordan realized this was going to be a lot worse than she’d imagined when he started rubbing her buttocks and thighs. Stimulating her clit while he flogged her would push her off the edge into free-fall. There would be nothing to grab onto to check her descent.
Crack!
The first slap connected hard. It burned into the nerve endings to painfully jar her out of a brief anticipation of pleasure and into the harsh reality in which she found herself.
“No! Please Brock, not a spanking at the same— oooww!” She cried out when the next one landed on the soft intersection of her inner thigh and buttocks. She hated it and loved it simultaneously. The memory of the very first time he’d spanked her flashed through her mind as his hand connected again.
“No? I wonder why,” he taunted as he rubbed the inflamed crimson skin with obvious enjoyment.
