Master of Desire by Lacey Alexander (read out loud books .TXT) 📕

a sex slave. A beating, she feared, might seem an  effective way to start both processes.

She tensed as he stepped to the end of the table, dropping his  gaze to her parted thighs. She wondered if her pussy  glistened, even amid her brittle fear.

Please, please, let me loose!  Let me go! Don’t hurt me!  The desperate pleas lay on the tip  of her tongue, and it was a struggle to  hold them back, but  she did—because of  Shaena’s advice.  Obey  him. Difficult as it is. Take whatever he metes out.  And even had she  begged, she didn’t think Ralen was the sort of man to show mercy.

When he held the black leather crop over her, she closed her eyes and waited for the  first strike to cut into her tender flesh. When, instead, the  thick fringing at the end was

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dragged gently, almost caressingly, between  her breasts, she opened them again,  peering down, and let out the breath she’d been holding.

Her gaze followed the trail of the small whipping device as Ralen drew it across her  stomach—making circles, curves, then one long line that stretched from neck to navel and extended—in sensation only —down into  her cunt.  What are you doing to me? What is  this all about?  she wanted to ask, but bit her tongue once more.

As her husband glided  the soft tip of the crop slowly from her shoulder to her wrist,  then gently  up her arm, the touch echoing pleasurably through  her, something in her began to relax. Relax and almost even enjoy. She had not known the same leather they made clothing and bedding and household items from could be so …sensuous.

Moving the crop’s fringed end to the center  of her chest, Ralen dragged it slowly  around the edge of one breast in a wide arc,  then circled it slightly inward, in soft,  tightening curves that grew closer to her nipple with each orbit. She drew in her breath,  watching, feeling the slow pleasure begin to escalate.

When he reached the pink bud, he nudged  it, once, twice, then raked the hard end of the crop, hidden beneath the fringe, around  the stiff point. Teesia wondered if her  arousal would leak from her pussy to the leather beneath her as darts of delight spread  outward from her breast.

Ralen soon began the same exquisite torture on the other breast, and though Teesiastill watched, she tried to hide her emotion.  Perhaps because Ralen, this day,  had beenso emotionless with  her. Suddenly, she didn’t want to  let him witness her feeling

anything, didn’t want to let him know  he had any power over her in any way.

Even if she  was chained to a table by his  hand. And even if hiding her response got  harder with every second. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from sighing her  enjoyment, but the erotic sight of  the crop pleasuring her receptive breast  only added to her reaction.

“What is my name, vixen?” he asked without warning, his voice menacingly low.

She flinched beneath the crop and got an unexpected burst of pleasure in her pussy  as a result. “R-Ralen,” she managed to eke out, then realized she’d been holding her breath again.  Not  holding it made  her feel every nuance of the crop’s touch even more.

“Say it again,” he commanded in a deep  voice as the crop reached her turgid  nipple.

“Ralen.” Smoother this time. But it was a  miracle, given that he now nudged her  nipple back and forth with the tip of the riding tool.

“Good,” he said, still flicking the crop over the puckered tip of her breast. The  pleasure, at once both cool and hot, burst through her with each and every graze.

Next, he lay the length of the crop flat  against the same rounded mound of flesh he  already teased, dragging the strip of hard, braided leather across her nipple  until the pink peak popped free on the other side. She  let out a small cry—against her will, drat!

Pleasure or  pain? She wasn’t even sure what she was responding to. A bit of both?

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She refused to look him directly in the eye, but sensed his gaze turning darker, his expression more feral, at the sound.

“My name is the answer for all questions tonight,  wanton,” he said slowly. “ Nod if you understand that.”

Pulling in her breath,  she gave  him the silent reply he sought, then flinched when the braiding raked across her sensitive nipple  once more. Ares in heaven, how much of this lingering, heated torment could she take?

“Who do you desire?” he asked.

She clenched her teeth slightly, hating the  truth behind the answer as much  as she hated obeying his stark command—but she said  it quickly, lest she anger him. “Ralen.”

She watched her husband’s well-muscled  arm as he slid the crop downward, gliding the fringe over her sensitive  stomach again. “Who do you crave?”

“Ralen.” It came easier this time, just part of his game.

The crop next moved in a tantalizing line over her hip, making  her cunt spasm slightly as he asked, “Who do you belong to, vixen?”

“Ralen.”

“Whose cock belongs in your pussy?”

“Ralen.” It came out huskier this time, drat it all. The mention of his cock and her  pussy left her a bit breathless.

“Who do you worship?” He dragged the riding crop’s  fringed end down her outer thigh, calf, in one long, even stroke that  seemed to radiate through her entire body.

“Ralen,” she said, then softer, “Ralen.” Why twice? She didn’t know—it had simply

come out.

“Who is your master, my wanton bride?”

“Ralen.”

“And whom do you serve?”

Now he moved the crop slowly up her  inner  thigh. “Ralen.” It was a quivery  whisper, her cunt tickling with desire as a  wave of harsh delight raced up her leg.

“Whose cock will fuck your mouth?”

She flinched, that particular question  catching  her  off guard. She had the foreboding sense that his cock was going to  be much bigger than  anything hanging  on  the wall, and she found herself wondering if  it would even be possible for her to do  what he’d just said. And indeed,  fuck  her