Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(40)
“Oh, Sir!” I cried out sincerely. “I didn’t mean to ask such a giant favor from you. I know I’m in no position to ask anything of you. You were right, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?”
But we were in scene mode, and he was about to make me go under for him.
His first lashes were soft, gentle. The falls of the suede flogger almost caressed my small breasts, puckered my nipples, made my clit quiver. This was nipple torture par excellence. Not to mention, each lash made his arm and chest muscles ripple, and that was a mesmerizing sight.
“There can be no forgiveness for such impertinence. But I can train you not to be so presumptuous again.”
I didn’t want to beg him to stop—at first. Roscoe had never lashed me this gently, this sensuously. So I didn’t want to promise him anything, either. In fact, I wanted to be a brat, to push back, to play the Force-Me Queen. “But it’s true, Sir. I am jealous of other women. Why can’t I have you all to myself?”
“Why would you deny me my pleasures in other cities when you won’t even know it’s happening? This is my life, my business, Sister. What you do is my concern. And I’m telling you I don’t want you seeing that Roscoe assmuncher anymore, period.” I was crestfallen when he paused to unbutton my little skirt. I helped by lifting my hips off the stool, pulling myself up by the cuff chain. He dispensed with my skirt and panties with one movement, standing back with a critical eye.
“I’ll give up my Sir, Sir, if you give up your subs.” I was challenging him, I knew. And it worked.
Fury clouded his face. He whipped me harder now, the falls stinging my pubic mound, my upper thighs. Yet I spread my legs to show my submission. I didn’t care if the falls whipped my engorged, wet clit. I jumped and hissed in air every time the suede ribbons struck between my legs, but each strike brought me higher and higher into subspace. I almost thought I might be able to come this way. I was laid out so vulnerably, utterly trusting to Sax’s skill and manipulation. The more vulnerable I was, the more virile he became. It was the true yin and the yang of things. We were in perfect balance with each other.
“You’re an impertinent little girl,” he growled. “You dare to rebel against my authority?”
I wasn’t sure if I was lifting myself by my chain to shy away from his blows, or to get closer to them, to offer myself up. I was truly and thoroughly naked, not even a collar to hide my bald desire, a fact that the whipping was stirring up.
“I just want you all to myself!” I cried, sounding even more like a young girl, a girl sobbing with selfishness and immaturity. This man pinged every pleasure center in my brain. I’d never, ever been driven to such heights before, certainly not by Roscoe, and not even by Baldy before him. “Is it wrong for me to want my delicious, tasty Sir all to myself? I don’t think so!”
Was it my imagination, or did his blows soften, the rage drain from them? Now the falls caressed my moist * lips, the suede becoming so drenched in my juice they snapped me like a wet towel. I did not close my thighs, though I jumped like drops of water in a hot cast iron pan. “It’s not wrong, slave. It shows how passionate you are for me. But to ask me to do the same in return is just arrogant.”
I whipped my head to face him. Genuine tears stung my eyes. “But I do want you to give up those women! Do you know how I feel, imagining you touching another slut’s tits? It makes me want to throw up! I know they were there before me, but that was then, this is now, and I want you all for myself!” I was crying like a little brat, almost kicking my feet in a tantrum. No wonder I drove Sax over the edge.
Tossing down the flogger, Sax’s hand went to the fly of his jeans. His nipples stood out like bullets, and a sheen of sweat seemed to coat his pecs, his biceps. Excitement mounted in me, my eyes growing huge, my jaw slackening.
But he seemed to have a better idea. He kicked out the stool from under me. It went flying and I dangled from the coat rack suddenly, my knees barely grazing the cement. A few quick adjustments to my bonds and he’d given me a couple more inches of slack, enough that I could kneel comfortably. In this position I could sway and twist and turn. I could cringe away from him if I wanted to.
I stayed as still as the eye of a hurricane as Sax stepped up to me, his bulging crotch inches from my lips. I actually felt my lips tremble as Sax first undid his buckle, one of those elaborate pewter things depicting a scene, this one of miners or some such thing. He lifted the wifebeater to display his washboard abs, the painfully beautiful line of hair arrowing from his navel to his thick bush, trimmed into a slight Brazilian, maybe for show at the clubs he frequented. Jealousy stabbed me again, but I was dumbfounded when he started unbuttoning his jeans, revealing inch by inch the root of his naked cock. He’d gone commando, I hoped for me, and when he slid his hand completely into the fly to caress the entire length of his penis, I just about fainted dead out.
“Let me suck,” I said weakly. “I want you, Zane! Stop torturing me and let me suck!”
“Do I owe you any favors? I don’t think so.” Sax took his impressive prick completely out into the air, thumbing the bead of come that glistened at the tip. It struck me what he’d said earlier. Something about do you like to watch…do you like to view men’s bodies? My heart was pounding clean out of my chest as he started using the come as lube, stroking the entire length and breadth of his tool, keeping it just inches from my mouth. I could lean forward, strain against my bonds, stretch my neck as far as it would reach, and still he kept the alluring horsecock just millimeters from my tongue.