Read Online Love Beat by Flora Dain - Free Book Online Page B

dancer’s pose, keeping my knees straight. Without warning, the cane lands on first one thigh then the other in quick succession.
    I was expecting it, but I gasp as I measure the sting. The taps were light but I’m already tense as a bowstring. Sweat trickles down my left temple while heat glows between my legs.
    He flexes the cane close to my face, his voice low, amused. “This is lighter than the Malacca but it can give you quite a sharp shock. And it makes pretty stripes if you like that kind of thing.”
    I glance at the mirrored wall opposite and see thin red marks appear on the backs of my thighs. I shiver as heat flares again.
    His eyes gleam. “But you’ve tasted the cane already tonight, so now we’ll try something else. You can stand up.”
    He leads me around the walls, casually pointing out the different sections like he’s a tour guide. “These are the floggers.” He runs his long fingers over the forest of leather strands that hang from the rail.
    Some are long and fierce-looking, others very fine, with sharp little strands that whisper as he moves them. They smell of well-used leather.
    One is short and bushy, with little metal tips at the ends and colored glass beads along the strands. He unhooks it and holds it up for me to touch. The strands are soft but surprisingly springy. It has a strong animal smell.
    “Moroccan. Made of camel skin. Freshly cured, by the smell of it. Looks quite tame, would you think?”
    I nod, wide-eyed.
    “It’s a scaled-down version of a flogger. Sometimes called a pussy-whip.”
    I dart him a look of alarm.
    He smiles calmly. “We use it other places too. Floggers are perfectly safe.”
    He cups my breast with his hand, brushing my nipple with his thumb and two fingertips. “Look at me, Tunis.”
    As I meet his gaze, I feel a sudden rush of air and the whip lands on my bottom with a snap. It feels extraordinary as the stings from the little tips and beads blend with the sensual caress of the soft strands.
    “Keep looking at me.” His hand cradles my breast, his touch light and fiercely arousing. He lowers his voice with a smile. “I’m your Dom. I have to know how you feel.”
    I could look at him forever but right at this minute, I want to look away, to work all this out in private.
    As if he knows this, his eyes lock onto mine, his pitiless gaze holding me in thrall as his fingertips continue to explore my nipple. It stiffens and swells, sending shafts of pleasure through me.
    It tells him all he needs to know.
    His eyes flicker as he leans forward and touches his lips to mine, tasting my lips with soft, light kisses and the whip lands again. As the tiny stings flare once more, I gasp and his tongue plunges into my mouth in a glorious thrust and slowly withdraws, lingering on my lower lip.
    Heat consumes me as I kiss him back, panting now, eager for more.
    His assessment complete, he gives my nipple a final, familiar squeeze and narrows his eyes. “Shall we continue?”
    We pause before a long, flat bench, covered with a thin layer of padding. It bristles with fearsome straps and buckles.
    “Spanking bench—where you’ll spend some of your time. And on the far wall, the grown-up version.” He gestures to a huge contraption like a polished wooden cross. It’s fixed with strong-looking clips and restraints on each arm.
    He smiles as I touch it then leans across me and gives it a shove. It rotates slowly then begins to tilt. “This can be fun for a change of scene. But tonight we’ll try you on the trapeze. Lift up your arms.”
    With a swift movement he snatches at a rail suspended above where I’m standing. It’s festooned with chains. They clatter and clink as he rapidly unwinds two of them and clips them to the leather cuffs on my wrists.
    “Now spread your legs.”
    Delicately he lifts one of my feet, pulls it wide and clips my ankle cuff to a large steel ring bolted to the floor. “Stand on tiptoe.”
    It’s hard to balance on my toes using only