Two canes came out of his bag. He laid a small, thin one beside her forearm in a visible threat and kept the other. It was leather covered and thick. He tapped it over the backs of her thighs, up her bottom, letting her get acquainted with the feel. Whack, whack, whack.
Pushing her, edging her upward, the blows grew harder with a heavy thumping. Her favorite kind of hurting. Then he targeted the same spots he’d hit before. Like the orchestra joining in on a solo, the new sensation drowned everything else out and united the individual pieces into waves of gorgeous pain.
Another harder strike and her head came up, wrenching her nipples. The exquisite blast made her scream around the chain and drop her head back down to ease the pressure. Her arms were shaking. Another blow. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. Five smacks before he’d pause to let the sharpness of the pleasure swell and ease. Five more. Pause. Over and over.
Through it all, the vibrator never ceased.
The battle to keep her head down, to take more, split her mind, floating her away until it seemed as if her hands were buried in fog. Nothing stood between her and the world. Her shell had cracked open, leaving her exposed. But not chilled. Warm. She was so warm as Sam ran his hands over her. Said something.
“Linda, are you with me?” His voice penetrated, pulled at her, anchored her from drifting completely away.
“Mmm-hmm.”
He snorted and pulled the chain from her mouth. “Say my name.”
Name? Fuzzy. “S-Sam.”
“Good. Take this again.” The chain went back in her mouth, and she tongued the cool metal. He caressed her head, rubbed his cheek on hers, leaving his scent behind to flow into her happy place. “You can take more.”
Each blow felt as if it should hurt, and tears were in her eyes, yet her whole body throbbed with arousal and need. Each strike of the cane reverberated through her straight to her clit. Her moans increased as she rocked back toward the cane, pleading for more. For more.
But the heavy blows stopped, and he picked up the cane beside her arm. The little one.
His hands pulled her knees apart, opening her, and she clenched as the vibrator jostled inside her.
Then light taps ran up the inside of her thighs, the cane flicking back and forth like a pinball, up and down with tiny, hot stings, just enough sensation to keep her floating. But he never struck her throbbing pussy. Up and up her tender thighs, then down, then up. Never quite…there. She moaned her need.
Her breath caught as he flicked the cane to hit the crease between her thigh and pussy. So close. He struck her labia, even the end of the vibrator, and the impacts surged through to her clit again and again. Never quite there. She gave a high, frustrated whine.
His gruff laugh was sandpaper down her spine, beautiful, wonderful sandpaper. “Needy girl. Let’s finish this interview then.” The next strikes changed the angle, between her legs, so the tip danced over her upper pussy lips on each side of her engorged clit. Every little blow sent her higher, higher. Then he reached between her legs, closed his fingers on her clit, and tugged.
She came, screaming around the chain as everything inside her blew apart, shaking her, shaking the table. Her back arched, her head lifted, the chain pulled. She yelled again as her nipples blasted shocking, wonderful pain straight to her core.
“Hell of a scream, baby.” He pulled the chain from between her lips, then removed the vibrator, making her spasm again. After setting her on her feet, he bent her over the desk. As her legs wobbled, she grabbed the desk edges.
Over the roar in her ears, she heard the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. A condom? Oh right, the Shadowlands had rules.
“Hang on, missy. I’m gonna take you hard.”
She felt the tip of his cock enter. Then he thrust in so fast and deep she went up on tiptoes, her breath whooshing out of her. Her pussy convulsed around him, and he felt so, so good, thick and hard inside. Hot and wet. But he was thrusting too slowly, and she wiggled her hips.
“Stay still.” In reprimand, he pulled on the chain and laughed when she moaned.
He reached around her with both hands, loosening the ropes around her breasts. The ropes fell off, and her breasts were freed. As blood surged into her breasts, her pinched nipples felt as if they were on fire. Her swollen breasts throbbed with each beat of her heart.
Then his cock pounded into her, driving her up and up. Securing her around the waist with an arm, he loosened one nipple clamp and pulled it off. Then the other. “Say my name.”
Blood poured back in, setting the abused tissues into engulfing brilliant fire. “Saaaaam.” Her scream echoed in the room
He laughed and massaged her breasts, making the sensation overwhelming.
Her brain fogged. Her body wasn’t hers, was Sam’s—all Sam’s—responding to his merciless hands and cock. His cock dragged across a spot that made her moan. He angled himself to hit that place, over and over.
As she came again in heavy, clenching waves of pleasure, her head sagged. He filled her completely, mind and body, and when he pressed deep into her, taking his satisfaction, he owned her emotions as well.
MINE. ARMS AROUND his woman, Sam rested his forehead on her back, his cock pulsing inside her. With every small tremor of her body, her hot, slick sheath clenched around him, keeping him there, just past coming, so it felt as if maybe—maybe—he could come one more time.
He figured he’d end up in a grave, but it might be worth it.
Instead, he kissed between her shoulder blades and grinned when her pussy convulsed again.
As he pulled out of her, they both sighed at the loss. Damn, but he cared for this woman.
He did.
He carefully settled her in the corner, disposed of his condom, then grabbed a blanket from a drawer in the filing cabinet. As he wrapped the fuzzy material around her, he touched her cheek gently, pleased to see her contented expression. Still in subspace. Worry-free. Happy. Far, far better than the way the last scene here had ended.
Some of her euphoria seemed to settle inside him. Putting that look on a masochist’s face was definitely the icing on the cake for a sadist.
He kissed her lightly and then cleaned up the room.
After slinging his bag over his shoulder, he opened the door and picked her up. She blinked at him.
“You with me, girl?” he asked, studying her face. The flush of climax had faded, but her color wasn’t bad.
“Yes,” she whispered. A crease appeared between her dark red brows in an unhappy look. “I came… People watched…?”
Her words were slurred, but, remembering his screwup at the auction, he understood. “Not in public, baby.” As he headed for the door, he turned to show her the closed window blinds. He’d pulled them when getting the canes out of his bag. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Oh.” Her cheek rubbed against him, and somehow without moving, she sank closer in his arms. A snuggler. He had regulars who didn’t like aftercare other than water and carbs. Some wanted company but didn’t like being touched afterward. Some liked being held.
Linda drowned in being cuddled, always trying to inch closer. He made sure his bottoms had what they needed after a scene. But Linda was different; he damn well loved aftercare with her.
In the main room, he found a secluded chair and settled in. With his free hand, he grabbed the sports drink from his bag and popped the top up. “Drink, baby.”
Her eyes were still glazed, but the good little submissive tried to obey. Her lips closed over the bottle cap, making him remember how her mouth felt around his cock. When she sucked in some liquid, just the sound made him start to harden again. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head, keeping his grip on the bottle. “More, baby.”
“Mmm.”
When she’d taken enough to please him, he fed her pieces of a chocolate bar. Alertness started to return to her face.
A small sound made him look up. Rainie stood at the unwritten boundary, checking to see if he needed anything. Good trainee. Despite her brassy personality, she was as finely attuned to nuances as anyone he’d met.
Sam ran his knuckles over Linda’s cheek. A bit cooler than he liked. He said to Rainie, “Can you bring a hot chocolate—not too hot—and a beer.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He let Linda drop off again, tipped his head back, and simply enjoyed her soft body. He’d rather have a soft, satisfied woman in his lap than a purring cat any day.
Rainie appeared, set the drinks on the end table, and moved it to the exact spot where he could reach them easily.
He nodded at her. “Good job, girl. You do the trainees proud.”
Before she moved away, the flush of delight in her face made him smile. He’d been unconvinced of her suitability when Z had proposed her for the trainee spot, but as always, Z recognized a good submissive sooner than anyone.
Sam jiggled Linda, waited until her attention fixed on him, then held the hot chocolate to her lips.
One sip. Two. He chuckled at her blissful sigh. “Warm.”
“That’s right, baby.” He studied her face. The tiny muscles around her eyes and mouth had relaxed. The tenseness of her neck and shoulders was gone. Floggers and fucking—a surefire cure for what ails you.
Still partly in Domspace, he got off on the fact that he’d done that for her.
Her brows drew together, and he had a moment of worry before her big brown eyes lifted. “That so-called interview… You were trying to tell me something.”