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Chapter Thirty-Three
Ryker
He tucked the cane beneath his arm and grabbed her cheeks in his hands, squeezed and kneaded them roughly. And fuck, he didn’t fail to notice how wetly gleaming her bare pussy was.
He wanted to fuck her now. Free his throbbing erection and rut into her with abandon, probably last all of a dozen strokes and then empty his balls into her until he collapsed. Well, he wasn’t going to be that guy. He had massive amounts of control and he prided himself on satisfying his partners. He wasn’t going to toss that for a few minutes of heaven. Especially not with Cosima.
No, he was going to savor her like a man facing the gallows would enjoy his last feast. That wasn’t a dramatic metaphor either; once he claimed her fully he knew he’d never be the same. He would’ve sacrificed himself at her altar. At least he’d enjoy the fall.
Letting go of her hips, he grabbed a ball from the table. More like an oversized jingle bell, he pressed the metal sphere into her hand with a shake so she could hear it, the jangly clatter.
“You drop this if you need me to stop while you’re gagged since you can’t use your safeword. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, flexing her fingers that had been clutching the bar her cuffs were clipped to before curling her small fingers around the bell.
He knew, though, that she wouldn’t be dropping that ball. Not because he didn’t trust her to tap out if things really got to be too much but because even though this was their first time playing, he felt as though he knew her and nothing he would possibly do would be too much for her to stand.
His balls tightened painfully as he eased the rubber-coated bit between her teeth and tightened the strap behind her head. The way she looked up at him with those amber gold eyes was killer. Thick, dark lashes framing the rich pools he could get lost in. The trust, the pleasure, the need there. How could he not have seen it when Hudson and Ian could? Except he knew the truth—he’d known from the beginning that’s what he would find in her gaze and he hadn’t been ready for it. Still wasn’t, really, but he had to give these three people an inch—even knowing he’d be sacrificing a mile.
Once she was gagged, he released the clamps on her nipples, and then the one on her clit. Her pussy was soaked and slick and he finger-fucked her roughly with three fingers until she was on the verge of climax and then pulled them from her cunt, snapping a thin, flexible paddle across her ass when she couldn’t keep a desperate whine escaping from around the rubber.
“I don’t think you want to use up your noise now, little one,” he told her as he brought the paddle down time and time again across the mottled skin of her buttocks. Not in neat, straight lines like the cane, but a chaos of angles that left her guessing where she might be swatted next. It was cruel, really, but they didn’t call him a sadist for nothing. The harsh pinches on the marks he’d made, the drag of his blunt nails over her abraded skin reinforced the notion that he liked to see her in pain. But only his. Hudson and Ian’s was acceptable too, although it didn’t bring the same marrow-deep satisfaction.
When she was panting, he tossed the paddle to the floor before he rubbed her swollen clit in rough circles and plunged his fingers into her pussy—so wet, her arousal slicked her thighs. Ryker worked her until she was thrusting back on his fingers desperately and he could feel the tightening of her internal muscles. But not yet. If he couldn’t have his satisfaction yet, neither could she.
He withdrew, wiping his fingers on her flanks, making her feel how wet she was for him, how turned on she was by his painful ministrations. There was no high like it.
He cycled through a few more implements like that—laying down pain before driving her to the brink, again and again—before her knees were trembling. He might like to hurt women, but he wasn’t unsafe. And besides, he was selfish. He wanted to wring every ounce of pleasure and satisfaction out of this woman with a will of iron and he wasn’t going to be able to do that if she collapsed.
* * *
Cosima
Her bottom was hot, tight, and stinging; her cunt clenching and needy; and her jaw was getting sore from being gagged. She wouldn’t give this night up for anything.
Sir had unbound her ankles, taken the bell from her hand, stood her up straight, rubbed her legs and her back and shoulders, and then her jaw after removing the gag. He offered her a drink of water from a cup he held to her lips that she drank gratefully while humming with bliss.
She didn’t need much spoiling and coddling from Ryker because Daddy and Papa showered her with incredible amounts of tenderness but she would take it, sure, because she was an affection sponge, slutty for cuddles. Having this rock hard man massage her not lovingly, exactly, but thoroughly and competently and then hold a glass to her mouth and carefully tip it so she could swallow while he cuffed the back of her neck with his big hand was a burst of concentrated sweetness she could live on for hours, days if she had to.
“More?” he asked.
She knew he didn’t mean water and she didn’t want him to. Cosima would hand herself over to him for hours upon hours, take advantage of this opportunity, gorge herself on the pain she’d been starving for. So yes, she wanted more and she’d stand straight and strong to tell him so.
“Yes, Sir. More, please.”
There was the smallest quirk of the corner of his mouth almost hidden by his dark beard, but she could see it.
“Good.”
Cosima closed her eyes and breathed while Ryker rummaged around, no doubt setting up floggers and an evil stick or several to torment her with. When the sounds had mostly stopped, leather falls brushed over her wrist and continued up to her shoulder, over the yoke of her shoulders and down to her other hand. The same strands covered the backs of her ankles and were then dragged up her leg all the way to her waist and then down to her other ankle before being trailed up her spine and then wrapped around her neck.
The tension on her airway and the earthy smell of the leathers was intoxicating, as was the press of Sir’s large body surrounding her—he was broader than Papa, maybe a little taller, definitely harder. Daddy was so big he could crush her but she was certain Ryker could snap her in half.
“Let’s see how much of this you can take, little one,” came his low voice reverberating in her ear followed closely by a sharp bite of her earlobe that made her gasp.
It was only a second until Sir had stepped back and landed the falls of the flogger across her shoulders. Not hard, but he worked up quickly, and it didn’t take much across her ass to have her hissing. More of the falls came across her back and shoulders and the impact knocked her very breath out. It was heaven to show off her strength to someone she knew would appreciate it and push her to its very limits but never over—not on purpose, anyway.
When her chest was heaving, Sir gave her a respite—but only from the floggers. Now he showed her an evil stick that was longer and slimmer than the one Papa liked to use on her. There was no adorable heart on the end either, and she knew the slimmer carbon would sting like a bitch and leave thin, red welts wherever he struck.
