Page 48 of Savoring Sienna
She huffed, her cheeks puffing up like an indignant chipmunk. “That’s not a choice. That’s a trap. How about we skip the whipping and go straight to the part where you worship me like the goddess I am?”
Crone’s grin was all teeth. “Oh, kitten, I will worship you. Right after I turn that pretty pussy into a throbbing, weeping mess for me.” He squeezed her cheeks, watching her eyesnarrow. “Tell me, do you have secret Little tendencies? Because I’d love to put you in a onesie and?—”
“That’s not even remotely funny.” The warning in her voice was undercut by the way her lips twitched.
“Okay, fine.” He chuckled, guiding her back down. “Bindings or not, love. Choose.”
She exhaled through her nose with her newly discovered dramatic tendencies in full force. He loved every moment of it.
“I trust your skill not to maim me with an impact tool. But I don’t trust my traitorous legs to stay still when you start turning my clit into a punching bag.” A hesitant beat. “Tie me up,DevilMaster. But mark my words once you’re done I can assure you there will be no sex tonight or probably the rest of the week… maybe never again… I’ll be too sore.”
Crone’s eyebrows shot up. “Never again? That’s a bold threat.” He leaned in and dropped his voice to a purr. “Never fear, love. I’ve taken that into consideration.” His fingers brushed the small of her back, pressing just enough to make her shiver. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I believe it’s time we explore your back entrance tonight. See, I’m resourceful that way.”
She groaned even as heat scored her cheeks red. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are, about to let me whip your pussy raw.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, waiting for her nod before dragging them—and her soaked panties—down her thighs. His breath hitched as he took her in, spread open and glistening, already trembling. “Fuck, look at you.”
Sienna’s cheeks flushed darker, but she didn’t look away. “Eyes up here, Master Crone.”
“Huh-huh. You don’t get to tell me where to look.” He barked a laugh, but his hands were gentle as they checked her corset, ensuring the scars beneath stayed hidden, knowing she didn’twant anyone to see them. “This stays,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, my love.” Her whisper was a blade to the ribs. He swallowed hard, fingers lingering on the laces before he forced himself to move on. The restraints were snug but not cruel, just enough to keep her from instinctively clamping her thighs shut when the first strike landed.
He took his time positioning himself, letting his palm ghost over her inner thigh. Her breath hitched as her skin pebbled under his touch. “I’m going to start gently.” His voice was rough. “You’ll feel a sting, but it won’t be sharp. Let yourself feel it. Every slap, every kiss of the leather.”
The first strike was barely a whisper—a flick of his wrist as the falls kissed her outer lips with a wet smack. The line between pain and ecstasy instantly blurred as her hips jerked, seeking more rather than less.
“There we go,” he murmured, tracing the faint pink bloom on her skin. “Good girl.”
The second strike landed with more force, the leather falls catching the edge of her labia and dragging just enough to make her whimper. “Fuck?—”
“Language,” he chided, but his cock was already throbbing. He delivered the third strike lower, letting the tip of the flogger dip between her folds, teasing her entrance. Her thighs shook, her breath stuttering in sharp little pants.
“You’re soaked,” he observed, dragging a finger through her arousal. “Dripping for me with such abundance. Such a greedy little thing you are.”
She glared at him, but it was ruined by the way her hips lifted, chasing his touch. “Shut up and hit me.”
Crone grinned. “Since you asked so nicely.”
The next strike was sharper, the leather cracking against her clit with such precision the scream tore from her throat. “Fuck—oh shit!” Her spine curved taut as her wrists strained against the cuffs. He didn’t let up, alternating between quick, stinging slaps to her inner lips and slower, deliberate strikes that sent waves of pleasure-pain through her body.
“That’s it,” he growled, watching her flesh darken and swell. “Take it. Take every fucking strike like the good girl you are.”
She whimpered. Her thighs were trembling. “It hurts?—”
“But you love it.” He landed another blow, this one dead center on her clit. She screamed, her hips bucking wildly. “Master Crone—fuck—I can’t?—”
“You can.” Her sobs punctuated each of the three rapid strikes that followed. “You will.” His fingers replaced the flogger, pressing against her swollen flesh, gathering the essence dripping from her pussy and spreading it over her throbbing clit. “Look at you. So wet it’s dripping down your ass. Such a desperate little slut for me.”
She let out a broken laugh, her chest heaving. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And yet, here you are, begging for more.” He landed another strike, this one catching her inner lips and slipping just inside her, the leather dragging against her sensitive walls. She keened as her entire body tensed. “Oh god—oh fuck?—”
“That’s it,” he soothed, stroking her thigh. “Breathe through it. Let it burn.”
Her skin glistened with a pearly sheen of sweat as she panted, “I hate you.”
Crone’s voice caressed the words with sinful certainty, “No, you don't.” He delivered another strike, this one aimed just right with the strips catching her clit on the upswing. Her entire body jerked.
