Tested by Her Web Master (Web Master #2) by Normandie Alleman Page B

a golf club, he opened my lower lips with one hand and smacked the ruler against my puss with the other.
    Those evil taps from the ruler went on and on and on. Usually I would focus on my breathing and managing the pain, but in this instance I was also concerned about not falling back on my feet, or shoving that hook any farther in my anal passage than it already was. Trying to think about all those different things at once had my head swimming.
    Just when I was starting to consider complaining, or even using my safeword, he stopped.
    I exhaled and tried to hold my hands up in the air. They were growing tired and as I stretched them a little, the ball in my bottom rubbed up and down inside me. Despite myself, I moaned a little.
    “ I knew my whore would love having that up her ass,” he rasped against my neck before nipping at my delicate skin with his teeth.
    “ Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
    “ Do you think you can stay up on your toes if I let you come now?”
    “ Can I rest my calves for just a minute?” I wanted desperately for him to let me come.
    “ I don’t know, can you?”
    God, he sounded like one of those teachers who used such language as a prompt to get their students to say “may I” instead of “can I”. I’d always hated teachers like that so he made me want to slap him. But, of course, I couldn’t do that with my arms bound above my head. So instead I just groaned and picked up one foot at a time, stretching it, bending it, trying to relieve the muscle tension that threatened to turn to cramping.
    As he moved in front of me and knelt again between my legs, I experienced the fresh realization that he was wearing the clothes he wore to church, minus the jacket and tie. He’d removed those when he rolled up his shirtsleeves and went to work, but seeing him on his knees in his clothes, playing with my naked body, sparked a fresh spike of lust between my legs so that when he pressed his lips against mine, it took everything I had not to let go and hang limp from that rope above.
    Of course I couldn’t or I might wind up with puncture wounds in my feet that would probably be difficult to manage so I didn’t. Instead I locked my legs, pretended I was a sexy ballerina on pointe and this man between my legs was the dominant dance director who was so taken with me that he couldn’t resist tying me up and devouring my pussy.
    His appetite was voracious, and so intent with his cunnilingus he only stopped for a moment to mutter, “Did you know that there are eighty-one different parts of the clitoris? And they’re all designed exclusively for pleasure?”
    “ Mmmm,” was all I could manage as I swung my head from side to side, relishing every moment of his attention as his tongue lapped at my most delicate parts.
    Then he shoved a digit into my soaked pussy and then another. My eyes flew open and roused me from my reverie. He laid one hand on my rear end and pressed me to his mouth, while the other hand began to rapidly fuck me.
    Hard.
    He worked me like a professional, fingers fucking, tongue flicking across my now-swollen clit. Back and forth, in and out, up and down. My nipples strained against the air, and I could feel the earth beginning to crumble underneath me.
    “ May I please come, Sir?”
    “ Come now!” he barked then went back to pleasuring me.
    It was one of the most delicious orgasms I can remember. Maybe because it was a special night. Maybe because of the crazy bondage situation, or maybe because Quentin’s technique was so good. For whatever reason, I felt like I’d been released from a spaceship into an atmosphere that consisted entirely of glitter and stars and pink puffs of air that let me float and glide along—the queen of the realm. The rapturous waves of heaven washed over and over me until finally I could feel him untying my arms.
    Suddenly I realized I was on my feet, my flat feet, and it didn’t hurt. At some point he’d moved the forks out from underneath me. He