Tell Me - Ashe Barker Page 0,36

you’re begging me to let you come.”

“There’s only one way to find out, Sir.”

*****

Thea stretched, tugging at the ropes that held her immobile. She lay spread eagled across the mattress, her wrists tied to the headboard and her ankles secured to the foot of the bed. Her hips were raised. A pile of several pillows shoved under her bottom arched her back, rendering her body accessible for whatever her Dom might choose to do to her. She was blindfolded too, her remaining senses acutely attuned to whatever stimulation might be served up. She wasn’t gagged, but he had instructed her to remain silent unless asked a direct question, or unless she wanted to safe word. She would not be doing that. He might as well have stopped her mouth.

The room was deathly quiet but for the faint tick of a clock, but she knew she was not alone. Tony was here.

She parted her lips, drawing her tongue across the lower one. Cool air whispered over her breasts, the first, the only indication that he was about to…

“Oh, aah.” Despite Tony’s instructions she couldn’t contain a moan as the fronds of the soft suede flogger trailed across her shoulders then down the centre of her torso to her belly. As suddenly as they arrived, they were gone. She thrust her hips further up, seeking, blindly questing. The air fluttered again, and the strands drifted across her breasts this time, curling lovingly around her swollen nipples. The movement was slow, unhurried, tracing a leisurely path over her sensitive skin.

“Tony. Sir. Oh God…”

“Do you like this, Thea?”

“Yes. More, please.”

“More then, but you must remain silent. If you don’t, this will become a lot less pleasant for you. Do you understand me?”

Thea nodded, determined not to give him any cause to limit her pleasure tonight.

Tony flicked her right nipple with the flogger, the sudden bite of pleasure/pain gone almost before it was there. He trailed and teased some more, caressing her straining body with the soft, light implement. Thea writhed on the mattress, straining towards him, desperate to savour every brush and stroke.

He moved lower, dragging the suede over her abdomen, his strokes feather-light and barely there. Another flick and the strands snapped against her taut skin causing her to gasp. He repeated the action, harder now, definitely looking to cause pain rather than pleasure. Thea moaned again, gyrating her hips in a wordless appeal.

“Ah, you want me to flog your pussy? You are such a slut, Thea.”

“Your slut, Master.” She bit her lip, too late remembering his instruction. Would he take issue with her lapse?

“Mine.” Seemingly not. This time.

The bed dipped beside her as he settled his weight on it, then Thea shrieked as the flogger snaked across the lips of her pussy.

She’d known what he would do, yet still the shock took her breath away. It hurt, beautifully. The pain was a sweet, tantalising dance of wildfire across her throbbing cunt. Tony waited for a few moments, and Thea fought to control the impulse to squeeze her legs together. Not that she could move, Tony’s skill with ropes saw to that. She lay still, her body tensed, waiting for the next stroke.

It didn't come. The bed shifted again, and she knew he was no longer sharing it with her. She strained her ears, listening for any clue, the slightest sound. She could just detect his footsteps as he moved barefoot around the room.

Her entire body jolted at the next contact, delicate, sharp, teasing the inside of her wrist. The sensation rippled along her arm, past her inner elbow, towards her shoulder.

The pinwheel. He explored her body with it, the sharp spikes scratching the surface of her sensitised skin. She lay still, stiffening as he rolled the wheel across her pebbled nipples, then around her aureole. As if that was not enough, he leaned in to blow on the throbbing peaks, then licked them to make them cooler still. Thea chewed on her lip, almost mad with longing. She wanted his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, but he seemed inclined to offer nothing but the merest brush of his fingers, and the delicate prickle of the pinwheel. She might have begged him, pleaded with him for the friction she craved. But that would be useless. Worse than useless, it would earn her a punishment for breaking the enforced silence.

Tony traced a pathway from her breasts to her stomach, around her belly button and down to the junction between her thighs. She was wet,