BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Chapter 44

He rubbed one hand over the smooth crown of his mask. When he spoke he kept his head down. “You will, at least until the game is done. But understand now I have to satisfy my own needs. I will do things to you that may hurt you or scare you. You trust me, and I am trusting you to use your safe word when needed.”

“I’m not afraid.” But her voice shook.

“You should be.” He stood and cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You should be, because I’ve never tasted anything as sweet as your submission, and it makes me want to push you harder.”

“I’m willing, Master.”

He hesitated and Mae wondered what he was waiting for—all she needed was the chance to show him that she was willing, that she could submit in a way that would fulfill them both.

Xavier walked away, plucking some things off a table along the wall.

“For the rest of the night you will not speak unless spoken to. You will keep your gaze down unless I give you permission to look at me.” With each word his tone hardened until it was almost as if he were a stranger—a cold, menacing stranger. “At no time will you attempt to cover yourself, or otherwise interfere with what I’m doing.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Xavier.” Mae curled her fingers around the edges of the chair, keeping her gaze down.

“Spread your knees. You are not to close your legs unless I give you permission. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

He grabbed her hair, jerking her head back. Mae yelped at the unexpected pain, but she opened her thighs, spreading her legs until her knees were on either side of the seat.

“Do you, Red? You keep your legs spread because this is mine now.” His free hand patted her pussy, just hard enough to make her glad for the slight protection the panties offered. “Hold out your arms.”

Rough rope wrapped her wrists, the binding quick and rough, nothing like the elegant bondage from this afternoon. With a jerk, Master Xavier lifted and folded her arms, pushing her bound wrists down until her hands were behind her neck. He tied the trailing ends of the rope to one of the rungs of the chair back, the tension on the rope strong enough that she had to arch her upper body to relieve the tension.

The position lifted her breasts, and Mae suddenly knew what was about to happen.

Xavier picked up her braid. “I like this.” He pulled the strands apart, then threaded some rope through the braid itself. Mae started to protest, but the words didn’t come. He’d ordered her to remain silent, and so she didn’t speak as he tied the rope now woven and knotted through her hair to the upper rung of the chair, further reinforcing the arch of her back.

Another rope went around her waist, ensuring she couldn’t scoot forward, and finally he bound her legs open, looping rope around first her left knee, then around the back of the chair, before tying it off at her right knee.

Though the bondage was far less elaborate than what he’d put her through earlier, Mae felt it more acutely. The scratchy rope and rough handling made it clear that this time the bindings were not about her pleasure…but about his.

That realization, that what Master Xavier was doing was about his pleasure, his need, brought a flush of arousal to Mae’s skin and calmed her racing heart. She wanted him to use her this way.

There was a loud crack and Mae flinched. With her head pulled back, she couldn’t see much except the ceiling. Xavier appeared in her field of vision. Unsure how to keep her gaze downcast when she was in this position, Mae closed her eyes.

Something traced a figure eight pattern on her chest above the edge of her lace top. Mae licked her lips and fought back nervous shivers.

“Open your eyes, Red.”

Xavier was standing beside the chair, close enough that she could easily see him. He held up his hand, showing her the whip he held. It was at least three feet long, with a soft flexible tail at the end that he’d folded back and was holding in place at the handle. Despite her resolve to be strong, she let out a frightened little gasp.

“This is one of my whips.” He released the tail and flicked his wrist. The stiff body of the whip trembled, while the flexible end snapped out, cracking in the air. “The shaft is composite and the lash is braided nylon, designed to create that whip sound.”

He cracked it again. This time Mae was ready and she managed to stay perfectly still.

“This is not a BDSM toy. This was not designed for play. It’s not even something they keep on hand here. I purchased this from an equestrian store, and do you know why?”

“No, Master Xavier,” she whispered.

“Because when I whip a submissive, I want a carefully crafted tool. I want maximum impact.”

He folded the lash back against the shaft, then used the tip of the stiff part to trace patterns along her upraised arms, tugging at her lace sleeves. The whip teased her nipples, which despite her fear were

stiff, the left still semi-hidden beneath her shirt. He caught her right nipple on the edge of the whip, flicking it hard enough that she whimpered.

Xavier reversed his hold on the whip and pressed the butt handle of it against her sex. Mae’s hips jerked, the legs of the chair scraping against the tile from the force of her movement. Though she was afraid, her body betrayed her enjoyment of this rough, masterful handling. She was wet and aching, wishing she had come to him naked, so that now there would be nothing separating her vulnerable body from his brutal touch.

“If you want it, beg me, Red. Beg me to whip your breasts.”

“Please, Master, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please whip me.” She stuttered over the words, but still she said them. “Please whip my breasts.”

Xavier stepped back, where she could no longer see him. Mae closed her eyes. Dread and anticipation —an uneasy mix of emotion—were making her stomach churn. She braced herself, ready for the first blow, but nothing happened. The silence pressed down on her closed eyes, made each breath heavy. Time passed and all she could do was wait.

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Mae screamed in surprise and fear. She felt a slight thump on her belly. She waited, but there was no pain. Again the whip cracked, and again the lash struck her well-protected midsection. He whipped her again and again, each terrifying whistle-crack blow making her twitch and flinch, but she felt nothing more than a small thump under the thick leather of her corset.

It wasn’t enough.

Frustration flared to life in her belly. She wanted to feel the sting of the whip, wanted him to mark her and hurt her. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she broke his command for silence and begged.

“Please, Master. Please whip me.”

He growled and then his hands were on her breasts, jerking the lace shirt down and tucking it roughly into the top of the corset.

She heard the click of his heels on the tile as he moved closer.

“Open your mouth.”

The whip pressed between her teeth and she had to bite down to hold it in place. He was standing behind the chair, close enough that her fingers brushed against the rigid line of his cock.

Mae opened her eyes. Xavier was looking down at her, his chest heaving, his eyes seeming to burn with emerald fire. He grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck.

“Eyes closed,” he growled.