In the Zone by Sierra Cartwright

silent.
    The only sounds were from the leather striking flesh, the metal jangle of the clamps, and her labored breathing.
    He continued to flog her. Her grip on the cross loosened. She closed her eyes. He saw her head drift to one side to rest on her right shoulder. She’d stopped struggling. She’d given him what he asked for: her surrender.
    He increased the pressure, crisscrossing her torso with his strokes. He caught her clamped nipples, the chain, and the weights hanging down. He turned her beautiful bronzed skin delicate pink, and he’d raised tiny welts.
    Her gasps became moans, and he smelled the heat of her arousal. Her face was totally relaxed; her lips were parted slightly. Her arms appeared limp, and she’d released her grip on the cross.
    A sheen of perspiration glistened under the lights. Her hair hung around her in a riotous, alluring invitation.
    She no longer appeared to be aware of anything.
    He’d never known anyone to reach subspace so quickly.
    His cock was hard; he wanted to be buried inside her. She was exquisite in her pain.
    He changed his position so he could finger her pussy while he whipped her. He kept up the intensity even as he stroked her clit.
    She opened her eyes for a second but then closed them again, much like someone who’d been disturbed during sleep.
    “You may come,” he said quietly.
    She mumbled something incoherent, but he felt her pelvic muscles constrict. He continued to flog her, and he applied more pressure to her swollen clit.
    Her hips jerked. “Please, please,” she begged. “I need… Want…”
    “Yes, yes,” he said softly. “You can come.”
    “Master…”
    She’d switched Sir for Master. Nathaniel’s cock had never been harder. As much as he was dominating this woman, she was dominating him. He wanted to please her, wanted to give her what she wanted.
    “Beautiful, Alani,” he said, moving his fingers a bit quicker over her clit and sliding a finger deep inside her wet pussy.
    “Please…”
    He longed to keep her here, begging and compliant.
    By flicking his wrist a bit on each stroke, he increased the flogger’s power.
    She cried out.
    Unlike last night, this wasn’t a scream.
    This was more of a sigh of submissive satisfaction. Her lovely body went rigid. She jerked against him, seeking, demanding. She mumbled her gratitude. Then finally, she clenched around him as she orgasmed.
    He stopped the beating, but he kept his finger deep inside her and continued to work her clitoris, encouraging her to ride the crest as long as she could.
    Finally, long seconds later, she sagged against her bonds.
    The audience clapped, and there were a few cheers.
    Suddenly he wanted every person to leave. He wanted to be alone with Alani, wanted to nurture her in private. “You did well,” he told her as he dropped the flogger.
    He cupped the side of her face with one hand, and he was pleased when she turned toward him. He reached behind him for a washcloth. He saw she was still lost, and he wanted her transition to reality to be a slow one.
    He dried his hand and then dabbed the perspiration from her chest. As he moved lower, her eyes opened.
    She was still looking at him sightlessly, and so he spoke quietly. “You were perfect, Alani.” He gently dried her between the legs.
    “Thank you, Sir,” she said, blinking.
    “Ah, you’re back with us.”
    She eased her head into an upright position.
    “I’ll get you out of your bonds,” he told her. He moved his hand to her shoulder, making sure she knew he was here, no matter what she needed. “And the clamps.”
    She winced but didn’t say anything. Now that she’d returned from that place deep inside her mind, he knew she’d be very much aware how badly her muscles ached, the pain radiating through her breasts, and the lingering effects of his beating. The bliss of the orgasm would help some, but he knew the power of the endorphins was limited.
    Remembering the dozens of people who were watching, he said,