Read Online Fournicopia by Delilah Devlin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Delilah Devlin
Ads: Link
control was somehow a selfless gift—a token of his love.
Soft murmurs rose from the crowd. And she knew what they must be saying. That such a bull of a man, restrained and acquiescent, was a wondrous thing. How would he react? How far would she take him? Even Aislinn wasn’t sure. All depended on Gus and his endurance, his subjugation of his inner self—and her abilities to peel back the layers of his pride to find what lay nestled at the center. The restraints were a necessity should he resist anywhere along the road they traveled.
Stepping around the sawhorse, she went to the tray, flipped back the covering and selected the first of the tools she planned to use.
The short, suede-leather flogger was one of her favorite warm-up implements. Too soft to mark the flesh, it warmed the skin and prepared the sub’s mind for what came next.
She returned to the man standing so still in the spotlight. Without a warning, she lifted her arm and lashed down and at an angle across the tops of his buttocks.
The large muscles clenched, jerking slightly.
“Count for me,” she said softly.
Gus blew a harsh breath, but at the next stroke, said, “Two.”
Aislinn reached out and pinched a firm buttock hard. “Two, what?” she asked in a firmer tone.
“Two, Mistress,” he said, his voice roughening.
“Very good. Keep counting.” She laid the flogger’s soft leather flanges across the other buttock, the swell of each, then the backs of his thighs while he counted quietly, unalarmed, perhaps even soothed by her steady strokes.
Brushing him with even lashes that trailed slowly off his skin in light caresses, she worked, her arm and shoulders warming to the task, her mind emptying as she concentrated.
She raised her arm high and slapped his shoulders, his back, letting the flanges wrap around his sides. She swatted up the insides of his calves, pausing to nudge his feet apart, liking the way his body grew alert again the higher the soft swats climbed.
When she stroked between his buttocks, his cheeks clenched. “Thirty, Mistress,” he ground out rough as sandpaper.
So she continued applying soothing swats, the pace even, calming, until he slowly released. That’s when she gave an upward stroke, laying the strands across his balls.
His breath hissed between his teeth. However, she knew she’d only startled him, because he shook his head and spread his feet wider, inviting her to continue. “Forty-one…Mistress,” he said so softly she knew most wouldn’t hear.
Pride warmed her as much as the exercise. He trusted her to do no harm, despite his natural instinct to protect the most sensitive part of his body. His regard for her trumped his deep-seated need for self-preservation.
Aislinn moved away from his balls, brushing his ass again, then paused to feel his buttocks, noting the warmth and pinkened skin. Because he’d earned it, she reached between his legs and fondled him, gripping his cock to test the tensile strength of his erection then rolling his balls in her palm until his legs trembled.
Satisfied, she walked back to the tray and picked another flogger, this one stiffer with longer, rolled-leather flanges.
Coming back to Gus, who hadn’t turned to watch what she was doing but who stood stoically, his gaze eyeing a spot above the crowd on the far wall, she tucked the flogger under her arm and gripped the corners of his hips.
“Craig, move the sawhorse closer.”
Craig leaped to obey, a cheerful bounce in his step as he approached and inched the heavy sawhorse close to Gus’s hips. Then Craig went to the wall and turned the wheel where the chain wound around it, and slowly lowered Gus’s arms.
Aislinn glided a hand up the center of Gus’s strong back, spread her fingers and pushed. “Bend over it.”
A low growl rumbled through Gus. She knew he wanted to refuse by the way his shoulders bunched. However, he bent, laying his belly against the padded bar, his arms now stretched to the sides and
Soft murmurs rose from the crowd. And she knew what they must be saying. That such a bull of a man, restrained and acquiescent, was a wondrous thing. How would he react? How far would she take him? Even Aislinn wasn’t sure. All depended on Gus and his endurance, his subjugation of his inner self—and her abilities to peel back the layers of his pride to find what lay nestled at the center. The restraints were a necessity should he resist anywhere along the road they traveled.
Stepping around the sawhorse, she went to the tray, flipped back the covering and selected the first of the tools she planned to use.
The short, suede-leather flogger was one of her favorite warm-up implements. Too soft to mark the flesh, it warmed the skin and prepared the sub’s mind for what came next.
She returned to the man standing so still in the spotlight. Without a warning, she lifted her arm and lashed down and at an angle across the tops of his buttocks.
The large muscles clenched, jerking slightly.
“Count for me,” she said softly.
Gus blew a harsh breath, but at the next stroke, said, “Two.”
Aislinn reached out and pinched a firm buttock hard. “Two, what?” she asked in a firmer tone.
“Two, Mistress,” he said, his voice roughening.
“Very good. Keep counting.” She laid the flogger’s soft leather flanges across the other buttock, the swell of each, then the backs of his thighs while he counted quietly, unalarmed, perhaps even soothed by her steady strokes.
Brushing him with even lashes that trailed slowly off his skin in light caresses, she worked, her arm and shoulders warming to the task, her mind emptying as she concentrated.
She raised her arm high and slapped his shoulders, his back, letting the flanges wrap around his sides. She swatted up the insides of his calves, pausing to nudge his feet apart, liking the way his body grew alert again the higher the soft swats climbed.
When she stroked between his buttocks, his cheeks clenched. “Thirty, Mistress,” he ground out rough as sandpaper.
So she continued applying soothing swats, the pace even, calming, until he slowly released. That’s when she gave an upward stroke, laying the strands across his balls.
His breath hissed between his teeth. However, she knew she’d only startled him, because he shook his head and spread his feet wider, inviting her to continue. “Forty-one…Mistress,” he said so softly she knew most wouldn’t hear.
Pride warmed her as much as the exercise. He trusted her to do no harm, despite his natural instinct to protect the most sensitive part of his body. His regard for her trumped his deep-seated need for self-preservation.
Aislinn moved away from his balls, brushing his ass again, then paused to feel his buttocks, noting the warmth and pinkened skin. Because he’d earned it, she reached between his legs and fondled him, gripping his cock to test the tensile strength of his erection then rolling his balls in her palm until his legs trembled.
Satisfied, she walked back to the tray and picked another flogger, this one stiffer with longer, rolled-leather flanges.
Coming back to Gus, who hadn’t turned to watch what she was doing but who stood stoically, his gaze eyeing a spot above the crowd on the far wall, she tucked the flogger under her arm and gripped the corners of his hips.
“Craig, move the sawhorse closer.”
Craig leaped to obey, a cheerful bounce in his step as he approached and inched the heavy sawhorse close to Gus’s hips. Then Craig went to the wall and turned the wheel where the chain wound around it, and slowly lowered Gus’s arms.
Aislinn glided a hand up the center of Gus’s strong back, spread her fingers and pushed. “Bend over it.”
A low growl rumbled through Gus. She knew he wanted to refuse by the way his shoulders bunched. However, he bent, laying his belly against the padded bar, his arms now stretched to the sides and
Similar Books
