Fortune by Annabel Joseph (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📕

Kat considered, wondering for the millionth time how she could have fallen for such a sadist—and how he managed to always keep her panting after him for more. God, she hated the cane. But the idea of not coming, of having to sit through hours of celebration and family conversation with this dissatisfied ache in her pussy was more than she could bear. She took a breath and threw her head back against him, swiveling her hips, trying to wrench her own orgasm away from him without his help. But with her hands tied she couldn’t touch her clit, couldn’t set that final avalanche in motion. He tsked and withdrew from her, holding her hips still. “Decide, naughty girl, or I’ll make the decision for you.”

“I—I want to come,” she said with a sigh.

He thrust back into her at once, hit her spot again with an accuracy that always amazed her.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asked.

“Yes. Oh, yes!”

“I guess you really want to come by now. I bet you’re really dying to.”

She sobbed, past words, past pleading.

“I don’t want to hear a sound,” he whispered as his hand snaked down her hip. “Twelve strokes if you make noise when you come. Only eight if you’re quiet as a mouse.”

Kat held her breath as his fingers again slid between her legs, slipping moisture and unbearable sensation across her clit and fanning the stuttering spark to a fire. She ignited into a long-awaited orgasm, the throbbing pleasure licking along every nerve and muscle. She held the cry of relief inside her like a secret and let her convulsing body express to her lover the intensity of her release. He came too, his deep powerful thrusts and masculine grunts only exacerbating the euphoria she felt.

But too soon he pulled away from her, a satisfied smile on his face. “Just eight then, mousie. I see my sub can be motivated by pain.”

“I can be motivated by orgasms too,” Kat grumbled. “But you don’t seem to care about that.”

“Oh, I care.” He slapped her ass lightly as he rolled off the bed and went for his implements of torture. “But sometimes I’d rather make you squirm. Down onto your tummy, Kat.”

She was squirming all right. Her insides had that funny feeling they always had when she knew he was going to hurt her. A dread and yet a longing for the pain because it came at his hands. He laid the cane beside her on the bed as she settled on her stomach. She turned her head the other way.

“Spread your legs.” His sharp voice had her parting her legs without a second thought. “All the way.”

She spread them wider. When he caned her he always tied her hand and foot. He used rope to circle her ankles and draw each leg taut toward its respective bedpost. When he was finished, she was stretched and spread wide open. Vulnerable. Trembling. And wet. God, she was still horny. Ryan’s extended edging session had left her so keyed-up that even her massive orgasm hadn’t completely assuaged the ache. As he pressed a lubed anal toy to her asshole, she found herself grinding her clit against the sheets beneath her. Her breath was coming in short, panting gasps. The plug stretched her, filling her with the familiar sensation of impalement. It was a smooth stainless plug, the one he put in her for extended wear. She thought of the party, the way her family’s celebrations tended to last long past early afternoon into nightfall. She buried her face in the covers and groaned.

Ryan ignored her, standing beside the bed and taking up the cane. “Ready?”

She let out a whimper. Ryan paused, then crossed to shut the window first. He returned and Kat braced. The first cane stroke fell across her ass like fire, a different type of fire than the conflagration of orgasm. This was fire that hurt. The second stroke fell and she cried, pleading. She always broke right away, started begging and crying. She never used the safeword though. She didn’t really need it. She’d learned by now to breathe through each blow, to subdue the rising panic that made the pain more difficult to bear. He laid each stroke in a precise lattice that she could feel on her ass cheeks. The cumulative effect was a cluster of stunning pain that made her ass feel swollen to twice its usual size.

“Oww! Please,” she cried in desperation.

“Nearly done. Two more strokes. Be brave.”

The next one was the hardest and Kat screamed, tears squeezing from her tightly shut eyes. Just one more, just one more. And then the agony of sitting and shifting on the welted tracks all through the engagement party. You get engaged to a sadist, you pay the price. Kat gazed up at her trapped fists, at the round, glittering diamond on her ring finger. In her heart, Kat knew it was a price she was only too eager to pay.

The last stroke made her whole body jerk, made her clench on the hard metal plug inside her. The aching fire penetrated, spread and then converted into the same dull throbbing that covered the rest of her bottom. She felt her muscles relax as he put the cane away and then returned to her. He knelt next to her on the bed and slid his hands up her parted thighs, then over the welts on her bottom. He licked and kissed each cheek, but she was too drained to react now.

“Not so horny anymore, little girl?”

“Just relieved it’s over.”

He chuckled softly and moved over her, straddling her back, reaching up to the rope around her wrists. Lazily he undid the knots, flipping over the ends and unraveling rope until she was untied. He leaned to push her hair away and lick the back of her neck.

“I think I might try something new today.”

Oh. Wonderful, Kat thought with equal parts curiosity and dread.

He drew the rope down