Page 169 of Bad Attitude
“Mmm hmm. Happening anyway.”
The flogger thuds into my ass, multiple strands acting like a single, thick blow. It’s not particularly hard, but I still feel it. The weight of the impact, the faint scratchy sensation against my skin. It barely hurts, but I cry out, more from fear of what’s to come and the shock that he would dare to do this.
“Declan, I saidno. I don’t like pain.”
He pauses, the flogger falling loose in his hand. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” My heart’s beating faster. I don’t think he’s going to listen.
“You’re basing that on what, exactly?” He reaches out, taking my left nipple between finger and thumb. Rolling it, twisting it, pulling it out, making my breast stretch.
I bite at my lip. “I’m not a masochist.”
“No? You got wet enough when I spanked you.”
“That’s different.” It didn’t hurt that much. It was sensual. It wasn’t a goddamnflogger. “You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?”
His smile gives me the answer before the words come. “Yes,” he says deliberately. “I am.”
“Please don’t.” I shake my head as much as I can, arms pinning it on either side. “I don’t want you to hurt me.”
“Hellcat, I’m not going tohurtyou.” He sounds like the suggestion is repulsive.
“Less convincing when you’re holding a flogger.” He’s moved to my side, and I watch it out of the corner of my eye.
“This isn’t pain,” he demurs. “It’s stimulation.”
“Whatever bullshit you’re selling, I still saidno.”
“Heard you.” He begins spinning the flogger. The strands whoosh through the air behind me in a steady rhythm. I no longer want to turn; I don’t want that thing on parts of me more sensitive than my back. “What’s the package?”
“Fuck you.”
Declan chuckles. “Bold choice of insult.”
He turns, still spinning that damn thing, and balanced only on my toes, I’m not able to move fast enough. The whirling strands caress my breast, striking across my nipple and down one side. All along the tattoo he always seems to target.
I cry out in reflex, pulling helplessly at the rope, anticipating a pain that hasn’t come. It’s a mild prickling sensation, nothing more, and I flush with embarrassment at my excessive response. My breast tingles with the memory of it.
Declan is watching me with curiosity, idly spinning the flogger. “Did that hurt?”
“No…” Well within my pain tolerances. Which I suspect are about to get tested.
“Shall we try again?”
“No, thank you.”
He chuckles, letting the flogger drop down, slapping it against his jeans as he walks back to his box. I stare at his back in confusion. Did he really accept a no from me?
A moment later, he’s returning. Flogger still in his hand, but a fuckingball gagin the other.
“It seems your ability to speak is a distraction for you,” he informs me. “I want you to be able to focus on the experience.” He holds the gag before my face. It’s a black leather ball on a strap. “Open.”
I pull back as much as the rope will allow. “No. Hard no. Don’t want this.”
He hooks the flogger under his arm and runs the back of his hand down across my sensitized breast. I hiss at the touch. “Open.”
I shake my head, glaring at him.
