Sir.” He was right, and that made her want to call
him Casanova again just to push his buttons.
What is wrong with me? She bit her cheek to keep from
digging her hole any deeper.
“Thirty days. You belong to me. Up on your knees.”
He walked to his toy bag and gathered an arm load of rope.
“What are you doing?”
“Are you safe wording?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. Up on your knees. Don’t make me say it a third
time.”
She lifted her body, sliding her knees together.
“I didn’t tell you to close your legs.”
He moved back toward her and she shifted her knees apart
again. The concrete floor was suddenly very hard beneath her.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes—yes, Sir.”
“Good. Don’t move.”
Then he started placing the coils of rope around her feet
and shins and knees. He outlined her in rope but never actually touched her
with it. None of them were more than a half inch away. “Close, but no cigar,”
as the saying went.
He went back for more rope once and then he was done. It
looked like a kinky murder scene when cops on TV outlined the victim in masking
tape or electrical tape or whatever adhesive strip they used.
She shifted a tiny bit, trying to alleviate the pressure on
her knees and her ankle came in contact with some of the jute on the far side.
“Fuck,” came out before she could stop it.
The reaction was instantaneous, just like it always was.
Sensation raced up her leg, climbed her spine, spreading warmth and yumminess
around inside her head. Her head fell forward a bit and she tilted it away from
him so she could stare at him.
“I told you not to move.”
“But my hard limit. You can’t—”
“You specifically said no bondage and no suspension. You
still have full use of your legs and you’re not in the air. There isn’t even a
suspension ring above that I could tie you to. I don’t believe I’ve violated
your specific parameters, Ms. Quinn. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” she gritted out as she tried to stay still.
There wasn’t much worse than trying to stay still when her
head told her nerves to do one thing but her heart and her tingly bits at the
apex of her thighs shouted something totally different.
“Hands up. Keep them off your ass.”
She lifted them, resting them at the small of her back.”
“Count.”
“Count what— Fuuuucccckk…”
The first cut is always the deepest, or the first strike in
her case.
A stinging whack raced along the flesh of her ass where he’d
smacked her. “One,” she breathed out as he held a crop out for her to see. She
had no idea how she remembered to count.
It wasn’t a normal crop, of course. It was in the shape of a
little hand. The thick leather tool couldn’t have been more than two inches
across but it stung like a bitch. It was like the love child of a wooden spoon
and a crop.
Awful.
She was definitely learning Nick wasn’t one for normal
anything. Or easy anything for that matter.
“Fun, huh? I had this specially made for me a couple years
ago by a friend of mine.”
Without warning he whacked her on the other ass cheek,
pulling a yip from her along with a, “Two.”
She moved, trying to get away from the pain, and brushed
several coils of rope on her way. Before she could reposition herself he
smacked her again, on the little line where her ass met her thigh. “Three.
Fuck.”
He didn’t say anything else, just proceeded to spank her ass
until she was certain her skin would spontaneously combust if he hit her even
one more time.
But he did, more times than she thought she could handle.
She brushed the rope each time, until she wanted to be
honest with him. To tell him how much of a rope whore she was and how badly she
wanted him to tie her.
Not that she deserved it because she hadn’t been honest
about it, but damn she needed it so bad.
By the end she was nothing but a horny mess, rope touching
her all over.
“Don’t come. Last punishment.”
She thought for a moment, focusing on
him Casanova again just to push his buttons.
What is wrong with me? She bit her cheek to keep from
digging her hole any deeper.
“Thirty days. You belong to me. Up on your knees.”
He walked to his toy bag and gathered an arm load of rope.
“What are you doing?”
“Are you safe wording?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. Up on your knees. Don’t make me say it a third
time.”
She lifted her body, sliding her knees together.
“I didn’t tell you to close your legs.”
He moved back toward her and she shifted her knees apart
again. The concrete floor was suddenly very hard beneath her.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes—yes, Sir.”
“Good. Don’t move.”
Then he started placing the coils of rope around her feet
and shins and knees. He outlined her in rope but never actually touched her
with it. None of them were more than a half inch away. “Close, but no cigar,”
as the saying went.
He went back for more rope once and then he was done. It
looked like a kinky murder scene when cops on TV outlined the victim in masking
tape or electrical tape or whatever adhesive strip they used.
She shifted a tiny bit, trying to alleviate the pressure on
her knees and her ankle came in contact with some of the jute on the far side.
“Fuck,” came out before she could stop it.
The reaction was instantaneous, just like it always was.
Sensation raced up her leg, climbed her spine, spreading warmth and yumminess
around inside her head. Her head fell forward a bit and she tilted it away from
him so she could stare at him.
“I told you not to move.”
“But my hard limit. You can’t—”
“You specifically said no bondage and no suspension. You
still have full use of your legs and you’re not in the air. There isn’t even a
suspension ring above that I could tie you to. I don’t believe I’ve violated
your specific parameters, Ms. Quinn. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” she gritted out as she tried to stay still.
There wasn’t much worse than trying to stay still when her
head told her nerves to do one thing but her heart and her tingly bits at the
apex of her thighs shouted something totally different.
“Hands up. Keep them off your ass.”
She lifted them, resting them at the small of her back.”
“Count.”
“Count what— Fuuuucccckk…”
The first cut is always the deepest, or the first strike in
her case.
A stinging whack raced along the flesh of her ass where he’d
smacked her. “One,” she breathed out as he held a crop out for her to see. She
had no idea how she remembered to count.
It wasn’t a normal crop, of course. It was in the shape of a
little hand. The thick leather tool couldn’t have been more than two inches
across but it stung like a bitch. It was like the love child of a wooden spoon
and a crop.
Awful.
She was definitely learning Nick wasn’t one for normal
anything. Or easy anything for that matter.
“Fun, huh? I had this specially made for me a couple years
ago by a friend of mine.”
Without warning he whacked her on the other ass cheek,
pulling a yip from her along with a, “Two.”
She moved, trying to get away from the pain, and brushed
several coils of rope on her way. Before she could reposition herself he
smacked her again, on the little line where her ass met her thigh. “Three.
Fuck.”
He didn’t say anything else, just proceeded to spank her ass
until she was certain her skin would spontaneously combust if he hit her even
one more time.
But he did, more times than she thought she could handle.
She brushed the rope each time, until she wanted to be
honest with him. To tell him how much of a rope whore she was and how badly she
wanted him to tie her.
Not that she deserved it because she hadn’t been honest
about it, but damn she needed it so bad.
By the end she was nothing but a horny mess, rope touching
her all over.
“Don’t come. Last punishment.”
She thought for a moment, focusing on
Similar Books
