Page 33 of Mischief Mayhem
She ran the back of her knuckles down the side of my face in a move too endearing for what she’d been thinking of doing to my nut sack only moments ago. “You’re a good man, Hudson.”
I hummed out an appreciative sigh while she circled around to my back, cracking the whip through the air to let me know what was coming. The spots where the clothespins pinched throbbed in time with my pulse, the initial sharpness having worn away. But I knew that wasn’t the height of that agony. No, that would come when she finally wrenched them off.
The first time she brought the whip down on my back, I sucked in a harsh breath and sagged in relief. Pain erupted over my shoulders and down my spine, echoing into my legs and arms. But fuck, I loved the torture. My toes curled, my knees shook, and my cock wept, inching closer to the release that had been building all fucking day.
She worked me over, alternating desperate flogs with her soft palm, rubbing circles over my twitching muscles. When she brought the leather down on the left side of clothespins, ripping them off in one swipe, I cried out and curled in on myself. It burned in a wonderful display of ecstasy, cascading over my chest and up the back of my neck, and I prayed I had bruises in the morning. She did it to the other side and I clamped my eyes shut, fisting my fingers and pushing up on the balls of my feet.
“Fucking Christ,” I whispered, trying my best to keep my voice low enough that she might not hear it. But she did. She stepped closer, grabbed my hair, and ripped my head back. My scalp prickled as I arched into the sharp pang.
“What was that?” she asked with a vicious snarl. “Did you call me Christ?”
I moaned, unable to say complete sentences though I knew she wanted an answer. My cock dripped, my hands tingled, and my balls were practically in my stomach. I ached to come. I needed release.
“No, Mistress.” My lips could barely form the syllables.
“Oh, good,” she said. “You know my name, pretty boy. That’s the only one you need to call.”
Carnal need hit me like a freight train, and I couldn’t stop the shaking that came after it. Never in my life had I wanted someone more, and I wasn’t sure if that was because of the eight months I’d spent whacking it or the beautiful woman who held my entire life in the palm of her hand. The world faded away. Suddenly, there was no more SRMC or Bear or long list of Montgomerys that would beat my face in if they found out. It was only me and V and the magic she created on my back.
She walked to my front again, staring up at me while she knocked the pins off my legs with the handle of the whip. I tugged against the cuffs and let out an exhale that weighed a ton. Now, I only had the ones on my nipples, and they were going to hurt the worst. I wanted them to.
My mind started to fog, all of the misery from her attention having launched me into a dopamine-filled haze much more potent than any bud I’d ever smoked or whiskey I’d ever drank. Subspace. Nothing compared to it. Nothing. And when she flicked the wooden clamp on the right, a harsh breath whooshed out of my lungs from the wicked heat that lanced down to my dick.
“I’m going to bite my name into your back, Hudson,” she said. “And then I’m going to push you to your knees and ride your face.”
The vicious wave of arousal that hit me in the nuts almost made me bust. I had to clench my eyes together to keep it from happening. She hadn’t forbidden me to come, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself during our first scene. Sure, we had said this didn’t have to be sexual, and maybe if I hadn’t responded like a teenager getting my cock wet for the first time, it might not have gone this way.
“Only then are you allowed to release,” she continued, flicking the clothespin on the left. “Do you want to keep these on or rip them off now? Speak.”
“Now, Mistress,” I said, desperate to do what she described. Sparks of adrenaline-laced excruciation rushed through my torso when she ripped the first one off.
I groaned and sagged against the cuffs, my knees buckling. Then, she did it to the next one and I threw my head back, moaning at how much it turned me on. My cock jerked and I canted my hips, desperate for more friction to relieve the pressure but finding nothing.
“Hold still.” She circled around to my back, rubbing the tender skin like one might do when approaching a skittish horse. Her body heat radiated into mine when she stepped closer, her soft corset cool against my overheated spine. Then, she sank her teeth into my trap muscle by my shoulder, sucking it long enough to leave a mark before ripping her mouth away. V moved lower, biting her way toward the center of my spine at the base of my back before doing the same toward my other shoulder.
Based on the stings and cool drips of saliva left behind, she’d made a huge V of hickeys, and if I wasn’t close to losing it before, I would have been after that. It was territorial and possessive in a way no one had ever been over me, and I couldn’t wait to check out the results in the mirror. Of all the marks she left, I hoped those lasted the longest.
“There we go.” She ran her hands over it a few times, scratching her nails down the pattern to connect her teeth marks. “Now, if any of those bitches even thinks about touching you, they’ll know who’s going to come after them.”
Fucking. Hell.
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” I tried to say, confused when my lips wouldn’t cooperate.
“Shhhhh,” she said, planting delicate kisses over the skin she’d just destroyed while she unhooked the cuffs on my wrists. “Just enjoy this.”
I curled my hands into fists as soon as I could bring them down and stepped away from the cross once she’d unhooked my ankles. Thank God she put one of my arms over her shoulders and helped me to the ground because the second I tried to walk, my legs shook harder than I could manage.
The world suddenly seemed softer, my life not quite as hectic. My body pulsed with agitation, every mark and bruise and scuff pounding in time with my heart. But even that added to the buzz behind my eyes.
I sat back on my heels, put my hands on my thighs, and stared up at my Mistress—beautiful, ethereal V. No one else could have given me this pleasure like this. Only she knew how to work me over and make me pay for it. And now, I got my reward.
“You can stroke yourself,” she said, “but you’re not allowed to come before you make me come. Understood?”
I nodded, but she grabbed my chin and forced my head up so I had to meet her gaze with the unfocused one of my own.
“Say yes,” she said.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said, grabbing at my straining cock, squeezing the tip enough to make me wince.