Hers to Choose (Cannon Cousins) (13 page)

Slash!

“
Ahh
!
Yes, yes, sir,” she yelled, trying not to reach back again.
She gripped the chair seat, panting.

“Count, then. This is
three.”

Slash!

“Three!
Ohh
.”

Slash!
She forced herself to keep track of
the count, breathing out the word in a shaky voice. The hickory limb fired
across her ass cheeks and upper thighs. This spanking was a whole order of
magnitude greater than the wooden paddle. Yes, she knew people used switches,
canes, crops, cat o’ nines. In her more heated moments with the games in St.
Louis, she had sought out that next level for herself.

Why hadn’t she considered
this possibility? Wade remembered more about her than she had considered. He
must have written notes for Dan, taught him about S&M, more than just
restraints and discipline. This hurt like hell and she wanted to shout with the
insidious thrill of it.

“
Six!”
Her thighs
contracted, pulling her crotch together in the instant pain of the lash. But
the pulsing devices with their insistent rocking stimulation immediately forced
her open, ignited her core,
melted
any resistance, so
that the next lash shocked her afresh.

“
Seven
!
Oh
!”

“I knew what you wanted,”
he chuckled, his voice rasping at her ear. “I’ve seen it all along.” He landed
another lash.
Slash! Slash!

She hated and loved him,
his plan of torture both evil and blessed. She had never been so consumed with
such towering lust, such absolute yielding of herself to a master. Each burning
lash jerked her back from orgasm, then the devices convulsed inside her and her
juices surged. Tears ran down her face. She wanted to grovel as his feet, lick
his balls, if only he never stopped.

Slash!

“
Ten
!
Ohh
!”

The veins on his forearms
bulged as he lifted her face, forcing her to look at him, admit his power, and
she loved it, wanted to laugh hysterically at the situation she now faced with
Dan in total control.

He pulled her upright
with the breast chain, stretching her nipples from her heavy breasts. Standing
only made her belly tighten with the maddening devices exerting more pressure.
Her hips shivered uncontrollably. Her pussy hair and the strap pulled tightly
across had become soaked with her fluids, her clit rigid and aching in need.
The corset straps constricting her breasts caused them to itch and swell, even
as the clips squeezed her burning nipples.

Dan adjusted the clips,
removing them one at a time to tongue and suck the knots to throbbing fullness
before reattaching. Then he glanced at her sideways as he opened a small bottle
and dabbed clear liquid onto a cotton pad, which he swabbed in a circle over
and around each nipple. In moments, the scent of peppermint assailed her
nostrils. Slowly, the oil penetrated its searing effect on her flesh, heating
it to a fiery glow.

“Now, dear slave, I’m
ready for an early cocktail,” he mused, standing back to fasten the bottle lid.
“I’ll enjoy watching you prepare it.”

Walk? Prepare a cocktail?
She stared at him in disbelief. For much of this “discipline” she had secretly
felt nothing but shockingly intense pleasure. Nothing but Dan mattered. Now the
reality settled on her as she tried to command her legs to walk. The devices
inside her continued their steady back and forth agitation, something her body
could not ignore as she tried to force herself to function normally. The strap
over her clit tugged with each step. Her buttocks and thighs burned from his
heavy lashing. The fire ignited around her nipples had spread to her entire
breasts, confined and blazing with the clips, the tight elastic and the effects
of peppermint oil.

She halfway staggered to
the kitchen door, unwilling to open her mouth in fear of cursing or pleading.
Either way, it could only provide further provocation for whatever other
sadistic tricks this man had in store for her. He was as dangerous and exciting
as her wildest fantasy.

Another strained groan
escaped as she gripped the sideboard to measure vodka and pour it into the
canister. Impulsively, she raised the bottle to her lips and gulped a mouthful
of the fiery liquid. Shaking the martini forced more convulsive response from
her hips. She grabbed the glass as orgasmic shudders crashed up her belly.
Fluids oozed between her thighs.

He watched her from the
doorway, a half smile on his face when she looked up. “Head high, Miss McClure.
I like that.”

His
attitude as much as his actions humbled her.
She felt shame, her color flushed
red in her willing submission. She could safe-word her way out of this any
minute, and she had no doubt he would free her immediately. But she didn’t want
this to stop. As she handed him the drink and his gaze told her of his pride in
her reaction, she loved the feeling of it and craved more. It was exactly what
she wanted.

“Please, sir, let me suck
you,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” he smiled.

He dropped his jeans to
expose his engorged cock before taking a chair. His bush of wiry pubic hair
bristled over large knotted testicles. She knelt to lick his thighs and balls
before eagerly taking the wide crown into her mouth. His spicy scent swarmed
her nose, piquing her response as she searched for any release she might gain
for herself. He lifted her to a chair, where the devices surged deeper as she
sat, and she bottomed her hips hard against the seat, craving the force exerted
inside her. Cream from her pussy pooled as her hips moved in circles. His hands
found her breasts, stroking and squeezing the already-inflamed flesh as she
slid her mouth up and down his hard penis.

Groans escaped him as she
forced him past her teeth, along her tongue, and against the back of her
throat. Her hands worked with her mouth, holding his full length tight as she
sucked and tongued. He pulled on her breasts, knocking the clips aside and lingering
on her tortured nipples. She felt the wide head of his cock swelling, burning
full of come, and she moaned with her frustration that it wouldn’t explode
inside her.

“
Awww
!”
he cried hoarsely as he began pulsing thick come into her mouth. She swallowed,
pulling his ejaculate down her throat while the insidious devices continued
their devastating march.

“Stand up,” he ordered in
a broken voice.

Barely coherent, she felt
him forcing her to stand. She gripped the back of the chair, trying to focus as
he stepped behind her. What did he want now? Whatever he wanted, whatever it
would take, she had to have release. Her body trembled wildly.

The paddle came
unexpectedly, burning across her ass cheeks still raw from the switch. The
devices convulsed in her, spreading her open and driving her mad.

“
Ahh
!”
She couldn’t stop herself from screaming repeatedly as he
paddled her in rapid light strokes. She pressed her hand to her soaked pussy
hair and shoved her fingers along the strap that covered her clit. She didn’t
care if he saw her. She only needed few more seconds. She had to do it,
couldn’t restrain herself. Her cry rose and fell with each strike of the
board,
she didn’t know how many times he hit her, her
buttocks on fire with the stinging pain of the paddling as she felt the first
waves of orgasm begin spiraling through her belly. Her clit started to pulse
toward climax.

Then, like hearing a
sound from far away, she became dimly aware the devices were being removed. The
strap slid from under her fingers, and for a moment, she was able to circle her
tormented clit toward the orgasm burning toward completion. His hand grasped
her wrist, pulling her away.

“Very bad girl,” he
whispered. “Not allowed.”

Her body cried out for a
finish to what had already started. “Oh please,” she begged. “Please.”

His eyes were half closed
as he watched her. Her breasts strained against the bands, her body’s openings
grasping and empty. Her clit throbbed, waiting. Reality began setting in. She
managed to step back, brought her hand to her face to hold it over her mouth.

“Discipline, Miss
McClure,” he said. “Only what I give you.”

He removed the straps
from her breasts and gently massaged the swollen flesh, then spread soothing cream
on her flaming buttocks, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to the couch,
where he brought her a glass of water. For a while, she sat in stunned
disbelief as he draped his arm over her shoulders, then a slight smile spread
over her face.

“Session is over,” he
said gruffly. “I need another martini.”

***

Alex paced his living room floor,
ignoring his disheveled appearance and the pile of unopened mail and newspapers
on the coffee table. A faint illumination from the partially closed curtains
revealed the townhouse’s modern interior finished in soft tan and brown tones,
with accessories and furniture in pale aqua and white. Impressionist art and
colorful prints hung on a few walls, but the overall appearance tended toward
open clean space.
Except, of course, for Alex’s clutter of
discarded shoes, clothes, and take-out cartons.

This thing with Bryn
might turn out to be the worst mistake of his life.
The whole
thing.
Yes, Dan had been on the verge of something terrible. Yes, he
loved him, wanted to help him.
But this, this
fucking
idea.
He must have been out of his mind to dream it up. He shook his
head and threw the last of the drink down his throat before striding back to
the bar to pour more.

The excuse he’d made to
come back wasn’t exactly all a lie. Plenty of work and messages had added to
the ominous pile on his desk during the few days they had been gone, and it
didn’t take but a few minutes at the office to see how much he needed to do.
Instead, after reaming out the appropriate personnel about the open house, he
left. He couldn’t concentrate on business. Dan was down there doing God
knew
what to Bryn.

If he
hurt her…
Alex’s
fist clenched repeatedly.

None of this made any
sense. He never imagined Dan as a sadist.
Never thought of
him as someone who would get off on hurting a woman.
But there he was,
doing exactly that. He could feel it. From the first minute of laying that
paddle on her ass, Dan’s enthusiasm had grown.
Enthusiasm.
It sounded like a decent word.

“Damn it!”

Worse than Dan’s angry aggression
was her willingness, her actual desire for this kind of treatment. She didn’t
seem to consider it hurtful. What kind of person enjoyed this shit? He simply
couldn’t process. It went against everything he’d ever known. At the same time,
he had seen her pleasure with his own eyes. When he watched her body respond
,
it made him fucking crazy. He wanted to hurt her himself,
make her respond that way to him.

And of course, he did hurt
her, if his spanking actually hurt. He violated his own vow not to involve
himself in the situation, so out of control he had to touch her. If Dan hadn’t
come back so soon, he’d have taken her to bed. He shook his head, groaning with
the erection he carried around every time he thought of her. Even when he
didn’t know he was thinking of her, his body did. He was drawn to her in some
kind of hellish craving he couldn’t dismiss. He had to have her.

Half drunk and at his
wit’s end, Alex pulled open his laptop and searched out information on BDSM.
Page after page scrolled down the lighted screen, some of it smarmy, some of it
technical, all of it a mind-boggling world of things he had never known. After
a while, his bleary eyes began sliding over the words.

None of it made sense.
All he could see was Bryn, her skin flushed with a mist of perspiration, her
soft lips beckoning,
the
sensitive flesh between her
legs responding to his caress. He welcomed the pain of his erection prodding
his tight jeans, scant punishment for this unforgiveable disaster he had set in
motion.

He slammed the laptop and
drained the glass. Not what he intended, and that was putting it mildly. The
longer he stayed away, the better. 

A shower took the edge off enough for
Bryn to sleep, but did nothing to relieve the insistent demand deep in her
belly. She woke up annoyed and angry, knowing that Dan would bring her to the
brink again and
leave
her suspended. At least he made
some effort at aftercare. Whatever drove him to this type of behavior must have
been extreme. She seriously doubted she would ever be privileged to know it.
Not that she cared, now that she considered it.

And even if she knew, how
would that
explain
the obvious and even more confusing
question of her complicity?
Eager complicity, no less.
She had never experienced anything like this. Even her sessions at the dungeon
hadn’t gone this far. Anal penetration had never been part of her experience.
All she knew was the consuming pleasure of Dan’s absolute control over her, so
she had no responsibility to think, decide, or worry. Everything was in the
moment.