Sold into Slavery (18 page)

Authors: Claire Thompson

BOOK: Sold into Slavery

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Devin’s smile was almost evil, though his golden brown eyes were sparkling. “Bullwhips and signal whips aren’t something you just pick up and use. But in the right hands, they’re as sexy as they are dangerous. The lash can create a range of sensations from delicate to cruel.”

He lifted the lash, lightly stroking its deceptively soft nylon tip over her skin. “It can be as subtle as a lover’s tongue or as sharp as a blade.” Leah licked her lips and closed her thighs around the hard whip handle, feeling the swell of her pussy lips against it.

“In the hands of an expert,” Devin continued, sliding onto the bed and stretching out beside her, “a well-made whip becomes a living thing, much in the way a Samurai warrior’s sword vibrates with the life force given to it by the master sword maker. But what really makes the experience come alive is the interaction of the partners—that connection, that oneness between two, that kindred pairing that allows pleasure and erotic pain to flow freely from the giver to the receiver and back again.”

“Yes,” Leah whispered, “I understand.”

And she did understand, not only intellectually, but also on a gut level, that what he was offering had nothing to do with the beatings she’d received at the hands of the guards at the compound, or even that much in common with the BDSM play she’d engaged in at the clubs and with previous lovers. For while that kind of play had been fun and exciting, a key element had always been missing. She understood that now.

“Are you ready, Leah? Are you ready to suffer for me?”

The words had a power of their own, and Leah felt her body softening and opening. “Yes,” she whispered fervently.

He kissed her cheek and nodded, rising from the bed. “I want you to lie flat on your stomach. I’m going to tie you down, not only for the erotic aspect of bondage, but also to keep you safe. With a whip like this, you don’t want your subject squirming around. A misplaced strike could cut your skin. Safety is as important as pleasure when it comes to the art of the whip.”

Leah lay quietly as Devin retrieved several lengths of thin nylon rope from his toy drawer. She lay still as he took her wrists, one at a time, and then her ankles, winding the soft rope snuggly in place, and then securing it to the legs of bed, forcing her body into an X and pulling her down into the mattress.

She was quiet, but anything but passive. Her heart was thumping, her breath already ragged with excitement. She felt taut in her position, the ropes stretching her limbs, though not uncomfortably. Her skin tingled from head to toe, electric with the need to feel the signal whip’s burning kiss. At the same time, she felt that deep, velvet cocooning sense of contentment and safety that being bound in rope always engendered in her.

The fact that it was Devin Lyons, her beloved Devin, standing beside her made it all the more meaningful. She trusted him with her heart, her soul, her very life. She was ready, more than ready, for this new experience and despite her fear, perhaps partially because of it, every nerve ending thrummed with aching anticipation.

“Leah.” Devin knelt beside the bed, his mouth close to her ear. “Are you comfortable? Are the ropes good?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you want this? Because you can say no. We have all the time in the world, darling. If it’s too soon—”

“No!” Leah interrupted. “I want it. I do. More than anything. Please.”

She felt his hand moving over her back and ass, his touch gentle. His fingers slid down the crack between her cheeks, grazing her spread pussy. He pushed a finger inside her. It slipped in easily and Leah felt her muscles clamping down with desire.

Devin chuckled softly. “How did I know that’s what I would find? You’re soaking wet and we haven’t even started yet.”

Leah felt herself blushing, but she was grinning too. She couldn’t deny it—she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, and more than ready for the erotic whipping Devin had promised.

He started by popping the whip over her head, its sonic crack making her body jerk, but when the cracker touched her skin, he only brushed it, feather soft, against her thigh. He made it crack again, and again brushed her thigh.

The first real strike landed on her ass, preceded a fraction of a second by a breeze caused by the cracker, followed by a slight sting. After several of these strokes, which were easy to tolerate, came a sudden burning stroke that made Leah yelp.

It had the slow burn of a cane strike, but with a more immediate bite, the focus on a smaller surface area perhaps accounting for the intensity. This was followed by several burning pops in a row that had Leah squirming in her bonds, though all she could really do was clench the ropes at her wrists and curl her toes.

He kept the focus on her ass and the backs of her thighs, though occasionally the whip curled, the tip making contact with her inner thigh, so close to her spread pussy that she felt the puff of air against her clit in the millisecond before the leather made contact with her leg.

Devin was out of her line of sight, but she felt him beside her, and then his fingers, which moved lightly over her burning ass, again dropping between her legs. She couldn’t help herself—she pressed wantonly against his hand, trying with her very restricted mobility to push her cunt against him.

Again his sexy, throaty chuckle. “You doing okay?” he asked, pushing two fingers into her wetness so that her only answer was a grunt of pure lust. He stroked her pussy for several delicious minutes, the heat in her ass and thighs mingling with the fire burning in her cunt.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

“Not yet,” Devin said, withdrawing his fingers. “I’m not done with you.”

He began to whip her again, alternating the sensations from feather-soft strokes to gently stinging kisses, all the way to the slow sweet burn of braided leather on skin, and everything in between, until she was gasping, moaning, crying and sighing, not sure if she could take another stroke, yet at the same time needing more, more and still more.

“Enough,” Devin finally whispered, his mouth again close to her ear. “You did beautifully well, Leah. I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.”

She wanted more. She wanted to lose herself completely in the exquisite sensation he’d woven around her like a magical spell. “More,” she managed to murmur. “More.”

Devin kissed her cheek. “No, sweetheart. You’re at the point where you’ll let me flay you alive. You’re in that place, that beautiful, peaceful place where you lose the ability to make good judgments about your tolerance for pain.”

She felt him sitting beside her on the bed, though he made no move to untie her. Instead, she felt his hand moving down her back, the fingers lightly brushing the burning flesh on her ass and slipping lower, dipping into her wetness, pulling a groan from her lips.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he whispered, his voice suddenly ragged. His fingers were moving inside her and over her vulva all at once, the friction perfect, the combination amazing.

Her body began to tremble and then shake, an orgasm rising against his hand like a wave. Still his fingers flew, stroking like a cock and a tongue all at the same time. She felt she would have lifted from the bed had the ropes not been holding her in place. As the climax took her over, she heard a strange, keening wail, and realized it was she, even her voice out of control as she careened over the edge of the most intense orgasm of her life.

Leah lay in a near-stupor, unable to move a muscle, not even her lips, not even her eyelids. She was aware of Devin moving briskly around her, untying the ropes and massaging her calves and arms to make sure her blood was flowing. She felt him lying down beside her, and then his strong arms reaching beneath her and gently flipping her onto her side.

He spooned her from behind, his warm body nestling against her, his hands gently cupping her breasts as he kissed her neck. She murmured something incoherent and he whispered, “Shh, don’t try to speak. Just rest.”

She did, drifting in and out of consciousness as she slowly came down to earth. “Wow,” she finally said. “That was fucking
amazing
.”

Devin chuckled softly. “You’re a natural, Leah. You were born for the whip.”

Leah smiled, pleased with this assessment. “It was…” she paused, trying to find the words to describe the intensity of what she’d experienced. “I don’t know. Sublime is the word that comes to mind. Is that too corny?”

“Not at all,” Devin said. He rolled onto his back, gently pulling her along with him. She turned toward him, curling into his side and resting her cheek on his smooth chest. “That’s the difference between what we shared just now, and the so called scenes you can find at any BDSM club,” Devin said. “They might be doing exactly the same thing, but the experience moves from the mere fun, to the sublime.”

Leah lifted her head, looking into Devin’s lovely golden brown eyes. “Why do you think that is? What accounts for such a huge difference?” Even as she asked it, all at once, she knew. Devin, she could tell, knew it too.

“Love,” they said at the same time.

Then they laughed, the same gut wrenching, soul freeing belly laughs they’d shared that very first day on the beach. And Leah knew, as Devin took her again into his arms, that everything truly was going to be fine.

Just fine.

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