Rude Awakening by Sam Crescent, Natalie Dae Page A

back and draped over her shoulders, some ends resting on the leather. He frowned at the faint stripes on her back—administered with a cruel whip, he had no doubt—and sighed inwardly at the abuse she’d suffered. Why had her Master been so cruel? From what he could tell, Ruby was an exceptional, lovely woman who inspired nothing in him but the need to care for her. The previous man in her life had been a fool, controlling her so much he’d snuffed out the magical essence that was Ruby—the one thing that made her so delightful to Harry.
    He held the paddle behind his back and walked towards her. She didn’t tense—something he’d expected to be a habit—and he was inordinately pleased about that. She trusted him already, that much was clear, and the niggling doubt came again that perhaps she trusted him too much.
    It wouldn’t just hurt him when he set her free.
    “Shift your feet together,” he said, then knelt, one knee either side of her calves.
    He placed the paddle on the floor and tapped the handle so the toy was out of sight beneath the sofa. Opening the massage oil, he poured some into his cupped hand, stood the bottle on the floor, then spread the fluid over his palms to warm it.
    “Keep your safe word in mind. We’ll be testing your pain levels and what you find acceptable. You must not take more pain than you can handle. I want you to be honest and let me know when it’s no longer giving you pleasure. You’ll please me by doing this. Do you understand?”
    She nodded, eyes closed, and a lock of hair fell to cover them.
    “I’m going to begin.”
    He waited for her to tense, for her muscles to bunch in her anticipation of him striking her, but she remained plaint, comfortable.
    Good.
    Scooting back to give himself more room, Harry pressed his hands to her ass cheeks. She didn’t flinch, so he smoothed the skin, wanting to ready it for the paddle. He spent some time caressing, then slid his hands between her arse cleft, instantly admonishing himself for it. But that dark, shadowy crack lured him, held so much promise that he was unable to hold back. Going against his rules, he moved one hand lower and cupped her mound, the heat from her slit warming his palm. If he just inched his hand a little further back, he’d touch her clit…
    No. Stop it.
    She whimpered and he withdrew, once again massaging her arse.
    “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Put your hand back there. Please. Sir…”
    “No.”
    Control surged inside him, and he reached down for the paddle. Moving so he knelt to one side of her legs, he judged the amount of swing room he had. Not much, but he didn’t need it. Short, sharp smacks were what he was after. He raised the paddle and brought it down slowly, connecting with her right buttock with hardly any force. She jerked but still appeared relaxed, and he guessed her soft gasp was more from not expecting the strike than any pain. From what she’d told him, she was used to so much worse.
    He hit her again, harder this time, and waited for a negative reaction. None came, so he created a pattern of striking, each one harder than the last. At the point he thought she’d buckle, when the hit made her ass bloom red, she jutted her bottom out for more. He obliged, giving her three whacks in quick succession, pleased to hear another whimper coming from beneath that curtain of hair. Spurred on, he smacked some more, his cock stiffening as he took in the sight of her arse cheeks burning. She had to be on the border between pleasure and pain now, so the final hits should tell him her threshold.
    After three harder connections, she unclasped her hands and held one up.
    “Have you had enough?” he asked. “If so, use your safe word.”
    “No, Sir, I…I just need a minute.”
    He’d found her level, where she was starting to feel uncomfortable, and he wasn’t happy at continuing. He knew she’d have mastered the art of switching her mind off, and he’d be damned if he’d allow