Mr. Smith's Whip by Brynn Paulin

the arm above her head. A fur-lined, leather cuff, attached by a chain to the headboard, closed around her wrist.
    Without hesitation, he removed her shirt from the other arm and pulled it from beneath her. As the garment sailed across the room, he dragged his fingertips along her other arm to the bruised flesh of her wrist. Gently, he kissed the darkened skin, touching and flicking his tongue against each portion as if his mouth could heal the damage. She closed her eyes and arched into him as the tender eroticism sank through her.
    Moments later, her second hand was bound and he moved down her body. Inch by inch, he eased down the elastic band of her pants. His mouth followed the path as her pussy was revealed. He kissed her mons then drew his tongue along her seam, but didn’t prolong the attention. Pushing the clothing below her knees, he bent her legs. His lips etched an invisible trail of possession up each thigh while his hands grasped her knees and held them open.
    “Please, Mr. Smith,” she begged, the sound of that address pushing the tension of release higher. Knowing she couldn’t come the second he touched her pussy, she grappled for control.
    “Who do you belong to?” he rasped.
    Dazed, she stared at him. “You,” she breathed, realizing Todd’s attack had disturbed him more than he’d let on.
    His finger slid into her slit, scrubbing across her clit before finding her opening and slowly sinking inside. “And whose pussy is this?”
    “Yours,” she gasped, jutting her hips into his touch. “Yours, Mr. Smith.”
    “Who decides if you come?”
    “You do. Please, let me come,” she begged. Her body prickled with heat as a fine sweat broke across her skin. Her belly undulated as she worked against his hand.
    “Not yet.”
    She blinked at him as he got off the end of the bed. He yanked off her pants and socks and tossed them aside. Grasping her ankle, he pulled it toward the edge of the bed. A leather shackle fastened around it. He went to the other side of the bed and repeated the action with the other leg.
    If she didn’t trust him, she would have been terrified. Her legs were spread eagle, her arms were pulled above her head and bound and she was at his mercy.
    Standing at the end of the bed, he watched her as he unbuttoned his dress shirt then dropped it on the mattress. Her back arched as strands of pleasure spiraled through her. Soon.
    He’d take her soon. Her channel flexed with need, another flow of cream seeping down.
    She moaned as he opened his pants and they dropped from his slim hips, leaving him in only his briefs. His thumbs hooked in the elastic and he pushed them down his thickly muscled thighs. He was the picture of healthy perfection with strength emanating from his powerful frame—and he wanted her. Be mine , he’d said. His. He was staking his claim.
    Circling the bed, he snagged the gift bag and sat beside her. He reached inside and brought out a small box. “I opened everything and prepared it ahead of time,” he told her. Inside, cradled in a bed of satin was a pair of square nipple clamps formed by two bars and two screws each. She remembered the pain then pleasure of the clamps from The Dungeon and wondered if these would be similar.
    Her breathing accelerated as she watched him. The metal was cool as he set the fully open clamps around her erect nipples. Slowly, he tightened the screws on the one closest to him.
    She cried out as a dull but increasing pain throbbed from the tip. Before she could react, he tightened the other. Her head swayed from side to side as the sensation crept along her breasts.
    Her womb tightened then her cunt. He drew his finger lightly over one tip.
    “I’ll loosen these a bit later. You’ll wear them all day as a reminder of my hands on you.”
    “Please…I don’t think I can…” Her body quivered as pleasure prickled through her. She longed to press her thighs together and stave off some of the sensation raking over her. Spread out