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In Rick’s hands were two scary-looking riding crops, and with each hand, he sliced through the air to choose which of the two he wanted to use on me. After one mouth a loud whoosh, he threw the other and took that one into his right hand, then gave me a side-eye, one of the sexiest looks he’d ever given me.
His eyes were lidded heavily, smile barely there, and his body was tall and tensed perfectly. I practically panted, but he came to me and kissed me gently. “Are you okay to do this?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said without hesitation.
“Safeword?”
“Red, Sir, green for go, yellow for slow.”
I was kissed again, and Rick seemed to be taking a page from Travis. He was tender, checking my wrists to make sure there was circulation, holding me in both hands as he stared into my eyes. “I love you, Kanan. You’re mine in all ways, and I’m yours too.”
My heart did a flip in my chest. “I love you, Sir. Very much.”
“I’m going to give you pain, and you can show me how beautiful you take it.”
I wanted only to be beautiful for him in that moment. I wanted to take his pain, showing everyone in the club how well Rick and I played together.
Knowing there were eyes on us made it erotic as hell and not something I thought would ever happen. Rick was private, but he was feeling his oats, being in the club, watching others let their inhibitions go.
Rick fetched the scissors and brought them over to me, closing his eyes for a moment as he simply held them. “This is a big step for me. You’re mine now, so letting others see you isn’t easy.”
“They will know without a doubt that I belong only to you, Sir.”
“Yes. I suppose they will,” he whispered while his eyes shined with merriment. “And seeing what they’ll never get to touch, well, I’m not going to hate their envy.”
I laughed with him, was kissed and then Rick stepped away from me. Damon came onstage to see if we needed anything. “Mic on or off? It won’t make a huge difference.”
“On. Let them hear him scream,” Rick said, losing his smile.
“Oh, damn, Mayor. You got it.”
I smiled at him. He took in a long breath and came close again, with the scissors, pulling the waist away from my skin. “Damn, this is maybe the hard part.”
“For you,” I teased. “You’re not getting whipped.”
That made him smile. “This is true.”
He brought the scissors to my briefs and cut into the leg opening with one smooth movement. That cold metal against my heated flesh made me shiver with need. I started to hear a tune in the back of my mind. A slow-building song that grew with each moment my Dom was standing before me.
That side of the briefs fell away, and he moved to the other side, taking a quick look into the crowd, saying aloud, “Everyone, please avert your eyes.”
There was a roar of laughter from the audience and then he cut, letting go of the fabric so it slid down my skin and fell to the floor at my feet. The feel of the material as it fell was a whisper, but it made the music boom inside my mind, and I felt my head falling back as my body began to shake.
Rick left me momentarily to get a spreader bar. My ankles were bound to it, keeping my legs in place and apart. All of this happened with a chorus of singing, the bass drum of my heartbeat quickening, the cymbals clashing with each touch of Rick’s hands.
Rick ran the crop over my chest and stomach, barely grazing my stiff, standing cock. I moaned and felt my eyes rolling, as every touch was amplified.
Moving behind me, he did the same, running the leather end of the riding crop over my skin, a sweet caress to belie the harsh sting of it when wielded roughly. Rick stepped close to me, his body flush with mine, and his arm came around to encircle my chest, his light kisses over my shoulders also soothing my frayed nerve endings.
“Love my beautiful man, my first and only man, my Kanan.”
I purred inside over the praise and the whispered breath on my skin. He was taking me out of my head, out of my own body, and already had me flying.
After he stepped away from me, the pain started in quickly, a sharp crack across my ass and I felt the surge of the pain rushing through my entire body. Another crack landed on my left thigh and my head fell forward, then back again, strangling off the scream that came.
Crack, crack, crack. Three swift blows over my ass and the backs of my legs, and I was in the middle of a line of music, floating with notes and clefs, hearing voices, sitars, guitars, violins and cellos, a symphony of strings to match the thin crop that was bringing me to them.
The front of me was next, a strike to my chest, to my left thigh, right thigh, and a lighter crack, but not so light as to not hurt like hell fire, to my cock.
