and she screamed, “No!”
The belt struck again, a vicious yes in reply. She would give in.
Over and over the leather whipped her, shattering her with each stroke. Perhaps it was the image he’d planted in her mind, but she imagined she felt the ice shattering away. Her bottom became a blaze of pain, and she squirmed frantically to avoid each blow. But they devastated her in their inevitability. Sometimes the belt licked out to sting her hip or the backs of her thighs. Once, it wrapped around her waist, flicking against her tender belly.
Strip by strip, her control fell to pieces, as if Kirliss was indeed stripping armor from her with every stroke of the belt. Each stinging kiss reminded her of her vulnerability. Here you are naked. Here you are tender.
Without her armor, that blazing passion he’d seen flared, spiraling out of control. She lost herself in it. She screamed it out.
“No, no, no no nononono.”
The unrelenting pain wove through the terrible arousal, swamping her. She no longer formed thoughts, she was only a vessel, swelling to the bursting point. She gushed wordless cries like the fluids pouring from her.
When Kirliss rounded in front of her, golden eyes blazing with feral light, she snarled at him.
He cracked the belt against her thigh.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled.
She thrashed her head, frantic to find the words. Her hair clung to her skin like sticky silk. He lashed her other thigh, the sting of it arrowing into her desperate sex.
“Beg me. You know what you need. Beg me to make you come.”
The belt leather snapped across the fronts of her thighs, lighter than the other strokes, but with a vicious sting that tormented the swollen, wet tissues of her sex.
“Tell me you want it,” he demanded. “Tell me you need this.”
“Yes!” She turned it into a shout, her own demand rising from the ashes of her resistance. “Make me come, goddammit. Please, please, please make me come.”
With a snarl of triumph, Kirliss tossed the belt aside and dropped to his knees in front of her. He trapped her straining hips with lean arms, his sweating flesh hot against her. His fingers clawed the throbbing flesh of her tortured bottom as he thrust his tongue into her sex.
His velvet lips, a shade of stubble on the edges, clamped on to her most private flesh and demolished her. He sucked down tight, his talented tongue flicking against her swollen clit.
Within seconds, Taylor convulsed, her body coiling into the tension and releasing like a spring. She threw back her head, arching against the strain of the ropes, crying out to the heavens while he drank her from below.
Black, red and gold pulsed through her mind. Flooding out. Leaving her clean.
When she was empty, she hung there, slick hands slipping off the ring. Her feet, even in those heels, barely supported her.
Kirliss’s strong embrace did. His arms wrapped her hips while his tongue laved her overstimulated tissues. He licked and kissed at her, bringing her down gently. She gazed down at his dark head nestled against her thighs and wished she could run her fingers through the curls, trace those strong cheekbones.
Slowly soothing turned to teasing. Impossibly, desire flickered into life again. She wriggled against his mouth, a small protest. He lashed her clit with a hard flick of his tongue and she whimpered. Ruthlessly, he revved her up again, driving her higher. Muscles she’d thought depleted tensed. Desire so recently sated flared even higher than before. Flickering edges of climax darkened her vision.
She cried out when he, of course, stopped.
Kirliss chuckled and placed a tender kiss on the juncture of her labia. He tilted his head back to look at her, running stern fingers over her tender ass.
“Welcome back, darling. Ready to move on to the next level?”
It wasn’t over, then. Thank God—she needed much more.
With a sinuous flex of muscles, Kirliss uncoiled to his feet. He came back to her with the champagne
The belt struck again, a vicious yes in reply. She would give in.
Over and over the leather whipped her, shattering her with each stroke. Perhaps it was the image he’d planted in her mind, but she imagined she felt the ice shattering away. Her bottom became a blaze of pain, and she squirmed frantically to avoid each blow. But they devastated her in their inevitability. Sometimes the belt licked out to sting her hip or the backs of her thighs. Once, it wrapped around her waist, flicking against her tender belly.
Strip by strip, her control fell to pieces, as if Kirliss was indeed stripping armor from her with every stroke of the belt. Each stinging kiss reminded her of her vulnerability. Here you are naked. Here you are tender.
Without her armor, that blazing passion he’d seen flared, spiraling out of control. She lost herself in it. She screamed it out.
“No, no, no no nononono.”
The unrelenting pain wove through the terrible arousal, swamping her. She no longer formed thoughts, she was only a vessel, swelling to the bursting point. She gushed wordless cries like the fluids pouring from her.
When Kirliss rounded in front of her, golden eyes blazing with feral light, she snarled at him.
He cracked the belt against her thigh.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled.
She thrashed her head, frantic to find the words. Her hair clung to her skin like sticky silk. He lashed her other thigh, the sting of it arrowing into her desperate sex.
“Beg me. You know what you need. Beg me to make you come.”
The belt leather snapped across the fronts of her thighs, lighter than the other strokes, but with a vicious sting that tormented the swollen, wet tissues of her sex.
“Tell me you want it,” he demanded. “Tell me you need this.”
“Yes!” She turned it into a shout, her own demand rising from the ashes of her resistance. “Make me come, goddammit. Please, please, please make me come.”
With a snarl of triumph, Kirliss tossed the belt aside and dropped to his knees in front of her. He trapped her straining hips with lean arms, his sweating flesh hot against her. His fingers clawed the throbbing flesh of her tortured bottom as he thrust his tongue into her sex.
His velvet lips, a shade of stubble on the edges, clamped on to her most private flesh and demolished her. He sucked down tight, his talented tongue flicking against her swollen clit.
Within seconds, Taylor convulsed, her body coiling into the tension and releasing like a spring. She threw back her head, arching against the strain of the ropes, crying out to the heavens while he drank her from below.
Black, red and gold pulsed through her mind. Flooding out. Leaving her clean.
When she was empty, she hung there, slick hands slipping off the ring. Her feet, even in those heels, barely supported her.
Kirliss’s strong embrace did. His arms wrapped her hips while his tongue laved her overstimulated tissues. He licked and kissed at her, bringing her down gently. She gazed down at his dark head nestled against her thighs and wished she could run her fingers through the curls, trace those strong cheekbones.
Slowly soothing turned to teasing. Impossibly, desire flickered into life again. She wriggled against his mouth, a small protest. He lashed her clit with a hard flick of his tongue and she whimpered. Ruthlessly, he revved her up again, driving her higher. Muscles she’d thought depleted tensed. Desire so recently sated flared even higher than before. Flickering edges of climax darkened her vision.
She cried out when he, of course, stopped.
Kirliss chuckled and placed a tender kiss on the juncture of her labia. He tilted his head back to look at her, running stern fingers over her tender ass.
“Welcome back, darling. Ready to move on to the next level?”
It wasn’t over, then. Thank God—she needed much more.
With a sinuous flex of muscles, Kirliss uncoiled to his feet. He came back to her with the champagne
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