The blows were stronger now than they had been on her breasts, but not as hard as what he’d used on her ass.
She’d been right.
He knew exactly how to use a flogger. He knew the implement, knew how to use it to cause completely different sensations, how to moderate his swings for different sensations and strengths of impact.
He was precise. Methodical.
The kind of man who wasn’t easy to trick.
Alexander paused, stepping back, and she sagged for a moment, letting her head fall back and lifting each leg in turn, circling her ankle and feeling the heat in her thighs.
“Again.” The word was merciless. He was merciless.
She braced her feet, closed her eyes, and forced herself to breathe.
Thwack. Left hip.
Thwack. Right thigh.
Thwack. Left hip.
Thwack. Right thigh.
He’d reversed the pattern, which meant he was striking virgin skin.
“You’re almost at your limit.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
“No, Sir.”
She didn’t want her limit to be what stopped them. She wanted him to keep going, wanted to linger in this place of uncomfortable heat. It was like the first moments of getting into a too-hot spa after a day in the snow.
“No?”
Alena arched her back, thrusting her breasts towards him.
“Ask for what you want,” he commanded. “Or was that a lie?”
Alena’s head snapped up, and she met his gaze, a bit of ire adding bite to her words. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be able to read my body language, but if you need every single thing explained…”
“Watch your tone.”
“Or what?”
Alexander grinned. It was the first time she’d seen a full smile. My god, what a smile it was.
“Or I’ll stop.”
“Oh, that’s…That’s just mean.”
“You said you’d ask for what you want.” The smile melted away. “That was a lie?”
“No.”
He scooped up the crop and snapped a quick blow to the inside of her upper arm, which was exposed and vulnerable with her arms bound overhead.
Alena yelped and danced in place.
“Mind your manners.” The grin was gone, his tone cool. But the way he looked at her was anything but cool. It also wasn’t the dispassionate, focused look she remembered Doms wearing during non-sexual impact play scenes.
Because this wasn’t non-sexual.
He wanted her.
She wanted him.
“Did you lie?” He started to walk around behind her. Like prey trying to keep a predator in sight, she turned to follow his progress.
“Did you lie when you said you’d ask for what you wanted?”
“No… Sir.” She stumbled a little over the second word. Not because she had trouble saying it.
Because right now he didn’t just feel like a Dom, or a casual impact play partner—which was what she’d expected before actually meeting him.
As he held her by the hair, her body forced into a slight backbend, her hands bound and raised, her whole body throbbing from his precise use of the flogger…
He felt like her master.
Keep Reading Vienna Betrayal
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