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Cosima
Before she could inhale, Ryker’s hand was tight around her throat. She closed her eyes and let the shudder run through her. Let him feel what he did to her. Made her shake. Not because she was afraid that he was going to hurt her, but in part because she knew he wouldn’t. Not really.
“Such a well-behaved girl,” he rumbled into her ear, and another shudder ran through her. Her nipples throbbed, her bottom was lightly stinging and she was light-headed. Not in the way that made her fear she might pass out, just dizzy with possibilities, punch-drunk with hope.
Cosima could feel each of Ryker’s fingertips pressing into her throat and loved how the firm pressure felt. Not suffocating but enough to let her know he could. Enough to let her feel at his mercy.
She hadn’t closed her legs, and Sir let go of her throat to draw his hand down to her hip where he laid down another sharp spank, and then he delved his fingers between her legs, fastened something around her clit that he tightened, tightened, until she squeaked.
It was funny how having three tiny areas of her body clamped could make her whole self feel like it was wound tight and throbbing. She could feel her pulse battering her skin like the sensations couldn’t be contained. And she knew Sir was only beginning.
Ryker left her to fidget in erotic agony even though she tried to be as still as possible. He was touching her again in only a few seconds, this time kneeling behind her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, with a few hanks of black rope.
Ian did surprisingly pretty rope work, but Ryker was all efficiency, making quick but sturdy cuffs around her ankles. His competence was sexy and the firm way he wound and tied his rope was hot as hell.
She wrapped her hands around the shoulder-height bar to steady her weakening knees and relished the way his fingers dug into her hips, drew her back until her spine was bowed and her backside was presented to its best advantage.
Sir attached the rope cuffs to a spreader bar which he clipped to the floor, and then he was at her head again, fingers digging into her scalp as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and raised her head so she was forced to look him in the eye.
“Your ass is getting caned, little one. Not because you were naughty and not because you did anything to deserve it, but because I want to hurt you and that’s reason enough for me to snap this delrin across your very vulnerable backside.”
The cane he held had a curl of smoky grey winding through the length of it up to the black handle in Sir’s grip. The cane was pretty, but she was far more interested in what Ryker might be thinking. She tracked his gaze as it raked over her face, her throat where she swallowed hard.
“Do you have anything to say to me?” he demanded.
She did, actually. “Thank you, Sir,” she breathed, and Ryker closed his eyes for a long moment.
“We’ll see if you’re still thankful after I’m through with you.”
Cosima knew she would be. She was already grateful that he was giving her a chance and she wouldn’t throw away her shot. He was completely focused on her and if there was an occasional lag because he had to convince himself this was okay then there was. He would see. Ryker would see how much she truly enjoyed this. He would come to cherish the way she reveled in pain instead of questioning himself every second and they’d play easier. Until then, she would soak in what he was already giving to her.
Ryker stepped back and Cosima braced herself, although she tried not to tighten her muscles or flinch.Just be strong, breathe.
He was going to thrash her in a way they’d both enjoy and she would no doubt have bruises, but he wasn’t going to harm her. He would pour pain into her until she was overflowing, but he wouldn’t shatter her entirely.
Didn’t stop her from letting a small noise out when he struck her for the first time, the unyielding plastic striking the tender flesh of her buttocks and the concentrated agony radiating out from the line of impact. Or having a sound forced from between her gritted teeth when he did it again, a couple inches lower, or the staccato cry she couldn’t help when he did it again.
Cosima didn’t cry out though as he striped her ass from just below her tailbone to the tops of her thighs. Or as he switched sides and started over again, laying thwack after thwack of the cane between the lines he’d already driven into her flesh.
Between the building pain working deep into her muscles of her backside as he caned her, the numbing pinch of the clamps and the throbbing of the swollen flesh around them, and the comforting restriction of the bondage, Cosima was flying.
She felt as though she landed on a cloud as Sir relented at last and stroked his hands over her from shoulders to thighs, pinching and twisting wherever he saw fit, with a few slaps thrown in because he could. He could do whatever he liked to her.
Then Sir’s hips were pressing against her and she could feel the thick length of his erection like a bar of steel against her sore backside through the soft leather of his pants. He cuffed the back of her neck again and held her that way for a long moment before he spoke.
“Unless you object, I’m going to gag you now. You’ll take a little more with the delrin, a lot more with whatever implements I choose, and then I’m going to flog you from your shoulders down to your calves, maybe throw in a few strokes with an evil stick since your daddy and your papa say you enjoy that so much. What do you say, little one?”
Everything inside her clenched with pleasure when he called her that. In sharp contrast to the crisp way he said her full name, like she was a Regency lady he was just being introduced to, his tongue shaped the words into a nest she wanted to curl up in.
“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”
“Very good,” he said curtly but with a gentle squeeze to her neck that rendered her into a puddle of goo.
