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“Then there will be tears,” he said simply.

“Promise me you won’t stop,” I said. “Not before it’s done.”

He pulled me in close until his breath tickled my mouth. “You don’t need to worry about that, my pretty little Cat’s eyes. Your safeword is Paris.”

***

Paris, Paris, Paris.I swore to myself I wouldn’t need it, but standing there, naked, under the dark gaze of the chimera in playroom one, I wasn’t quite so confident. I turned my back to the faces at the window, blanking out everything but the man before me. He gestured to the flogging bench, and I took up position on all fours, my breasts mashing tight against the bench’s contoured padding. Masque buckled my ankles into the cuffs, leaving me spread wide open for him.

“You’ve healed well,” he said, stroking my ass. “A nice fresh canvas for stripes.” He fastened my wrists, pulling my chin up towards him. “Last call, Cat. Do you want this?” He brandished the cane before my face, letting rip with a healthy swish. I flinched but didn’t falter.

“Yes, sir. Please.”

I couldn’t read his expression, just took comfort in the soft caress of his thumb against my lips. He disappeared from my eyeline, taking the cane with him. “Only use the safeword if you really have to,” he said. I nodded, straining to keep him in sight as he walked around me. “Look straight ahead, relax.”

I did as he asked, twitching in my bonds involuntarily. They held firm. I jumped as warm breath teased my pussy lips, and groaned like a whore as he buried his face. He bit me as he pulled away, hard enough to make me whine.

“Such a sweet juicy cunt,” he growled. “I love how wet you are for pain.”

I heard the familiar swish of the flogger, but kept my eyes straight ahead. The tails pinched at my back, a frenzied assault of tiny bites which ramped up with every circuit. He aimed hard for my thighs, curling around my hips to snap at tender skin. I rolled into it, sinking into the sensation, breathing evening out as the endorphins began to rise.

“Good girl, Cat,” he said. “Nice and pink.”

I gasped as he worked me with the tip of the cane, poking hard against my pussy. “Yes!” I groaned. “Fuck me!”

He pressed harder, skewering me in one slick motion. “Dirty bitch,” he growled. “So fucking dirty.”

“Please, Masque, sir, make it hurt,” I wheezed, floating into the warm arms of subspace. My throat was dry, fists clenched tight, every sliver of my attention on the sharp point of the cane inside me. I pictured him flipping me over, just like on his desk, forcing my thighs wide open to receive his pain.

“I’m going to hurt you so much, Cat, so fucking much...” No sooner had the intrusion disappeared than I heard the swish in the air. The first strike took my breath, all of it. It hurt more than my very worst expectation, skin searing on contact and wrenching me forward in my restraints.

“Shit!” I wheezed. “Ow, ow, shit!”

On the second stroke my body moved without bidding, rocking back on my knees as far as movement would allow. I spluttered out expletives, one long breath of crass relief.

He landed the third across my thighs and I howled like a banshee, gripping for the edge of the bench and clenching my legs as tight as they’d go. Number four landed harder, and I slammed my forehead hard into the padding, no breath left to exhale.

I found more breath through five and six, squealing without reservation. My head flew back, eyes desperate to keep the cane in sight, animal fear thundering through my ribcage. This wasn’t like I imagined. He came to my side, smoothing down my hair with his fingers.

“Cry for me, Cat, cry and it will stop.”

My eyes were wide and frantic. “I can’t!”

He retreated for another stroke, and this time the tip of the cane curled around my ass, savage on untouched flesh.

“OWW!” I screamed. “FUCKING HELL!”

“CRY FOR ME!” he thundered. “LET IT GO!”

I spluttered through the next few, until they became a blur of agony. My thighs were trembling, mouth bone dry, every nerve screaming for release. There was only pain. Pain and Masque, his low groan loud in the air.

“FUCKING HELL, CAT, LET IT GO!”

He landed a stripe on the tender line where my ass met my thighs, and I wailed like a wounded animal. I felt sick, teeth chattering, the adrenalin spike rushing through my limbs. My throes became less frenetic, morphing instead into a slow rhythmic sway, back and forth as far as the bench would allow. My ears began to ring.

His growl snared my senses. “Cry for me, Cat, show me your fucking tears.”

He changed position and the cruel tip of the cane bit the inside of my thigh. I heard myself wheezing, but it felt so far away.

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