Initiation (Master Class, #1) - Sierra Cartwright Page 0,14
sneak in, she tightened her muscles.
“If you relax, it won’t hurt as much.”
She took a steadying breath before exhaling.
He draped the leather strands over her shoulder then drew them down in a sensual caress.
The first fall against her buttocks felt like a light sting.
“Unclench your ass,” he told her.
“I’m trying.”
He stroked her back with his hand and the flogger’s strands.
“Let go. Surrender. Experience.” He stunned her by reaching between her legs to play with her still-damp pussy.
She bent her knees as much as she could, seeking. “More,” she begged, wanting him inside her. “Please.”
“You’ll get everything you want.”
He moved away and gave her the first hit that hurt.
She stiffened. Then, remembering his coaching, she forced out a breath.
Another strike fell, followed by several more, one after another.
Her dreams had not come close to the thrill of reality. The leather was wicked and sensuous, all at the same time. It burned, stung, and when the sensations receded, she was left with an unfulfilled need crawling through her. She was turned on, horny, desperate.
Her nipples hardened, throbbing.
He went on and on, the tips of the strands landing on her buttocks and thighs, her back, hitting every place at once, in dull, biting thuds.
“Breathe,” he coached her. “Surrender.”
She did, giving up the struggle, willing her muscles to soften.
He then flogged her in earnest, back and forth, crisscrossing her body, blazing trails of sensation.
Jennifer’s entire being rose to another level of awareness. Her temperature spiked, and she began to perspire. Her muscles and sinews were supple. As he’d suggested, she allowed the restraints to be a saving grace, and she curled her hands around them for extra support.
Then, as if intuitively reading her mind, Logan increased the pressure.
He hit her ass so hard the wind seemed to be knocked out of her. Jennifer’s pussy got wetter, stunning her. The clamps bit deeper.
“You’re behaving perfectly.”
She wasn’t sure whether she was or she wasn’t. All she knew was she hoped he wouldn’t stop.
For long minutes, he flogged her, his motions rhythmic. A light, glancing blow made her sigh. Then he caught her beneath her buttocks with a sharp upward swing, and she screamed.
“That’s it, on your toes.”
His constant hits made her squirm. Then they became worse. “Oh God.” She wasn’t sure whether she said it out loud or whether it echoed in her head.
Relentlessly, he continued. His next few dozen hits seared her. Yellow raced through her mind, but before she could form it, he changed his pattern, striking her with gentle smacks. This was more of a dance. Then…all of her thoughts ceased.
Her eyes were closed, but she saw twinkling lights, so blue they appeared white.
She stopped struggling, with him, the process, herself. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized what he’d meant when he’d told her to do that, but now she did. There was no conflict, just a calm acceptance, then an expectation, a welcoming.
She heard the faint sound of a bell ringing, then the sound of chants, soft, then louder. She seemed to be floating, between somewhere and nowhere at all.
Every part of her body vibrated, and she’d never been needier.
It took her a long while to realize that the flogging had stopped, and that he’d already released her right wrist. He was rubbing it when she opened her eyes.
“Easy. Take it easy.”
If I can move at all.
His body was pressed tight against hers, and the denim of his jeans scratched against her skin. And for the first time, she inhaled the scent of him—the crispness of a winter night, the undeniable appeal of masculine strength.
Earlier, his size and shadowed past had unnerved her. Now it gave her a sense of peace, made her feel protected.
With deft motions, he unfastened her left wrist and rubbed the chafed skin. That he was capable of such tenderness astounded her.
“Let me look at you.”
She hadn’t realized he’d unfastened her ankles.
He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“I’m going to remove the nipple clamps,” he said. “Fair warning. It will hurt.”
He removed the first one, and a sharp sting pierced her. But he closed his mouth around the abused tip and sucked on it until pleasure replaced pain.
She drew a breath before he took off the second.
After he was done, he helped her over to a bench. She sat while he turned down the volume of the music.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Incomplete. Somewhat bereft. Unsure how to explain those emotions, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Earlier, you said we might