Page 103 of At Her Pleasure
He shook his head. “Not a lot of room for big appliances in the motorhome, but I’ve seen it done.”
She glanced at the temperature gauge. “Burn play is intensely painful, but can be done this way without lasting harm, if you know what you’re doing. You’re good at staying still when you’re in pain, Mick. I wonder how good.”
He was starting to get an idea of where this was going.
The look in her eyes intensified, seeing further inside him. When she spoke, the words echoed up from that well.
“I want to kiss you while you’re screaming, Mick. I want you to scream into my mouth, give me all that pain I’m causing you. It will make me wet, and I will take you to my bed and ride you until I’ve had all the pleasure I want from you tonight. You’ll get pleasure if I say you do.”
He managed to lick dry lips. “All right.”
A corner of her mouth twitched. “Were you under the impression I was asking your permission?”
“No, Mistress. Far as I’m concerned, CNC is status quo for us.”
She blinked, then gestured to the spanking bench. “Kneel behind it, facing me. Arms stretched out to either side on the bench.”
That would put his hindquarters facing the wall, which suggested she wasn’t going to fuck him with the pipe, thank God. But she could also be luring him into a false sense of security.
She read his mind pretty well. “I’ve seen Mistresses adjust the temp accordingly to fuck their subs with this technique. Or make them suck on it like a dick. I’m not interested in that. And it’s not your fear I want, either. I assume you already know that about me.”
He did. It was part of why they fit. Tiger had said he had enough blood and pain in his life. Mick had enough fear in his.
When he knelt on the cushioned step on the wall side of the bench, she ran a strap behind his bent knees and cinched it down. She did the same to his arms, using straps at shoulder, elbow and wrist. He could curve his back like a cat, but he couldn’t lift his arms, which gave his head a limited range of motion. He could look in either direction, or prop his jaw on the bench.
When she stepped back, she removed her shirt, revealing the darker flesh of her nipples, the crinkled points against paler curves. She hooked a thumb in the waistband of the skirt, showing her hip bone as she cocked her stance like a man did when he put a thumb in his jeans pocket or behind a belt.
She ran her hand over his hair, a deceptively gentle stroke. She was sinking deeper into that miasma she created, where the desire to give pain was taking over everything else. His whole being yearned toward her.
She went to her wardrobe and retrieved a bit gag.
“Hard to kiss you with that, Mistress.”
“I’ll be kissing you, Mick. You’ll be screaming.”
She fitted it into his mouth, pushing it past his teeth which initially clenched, resisting. Pushing a practiced finger into the hinge of his jaw, she wrenched it open to shove in the bit. Then she slapped his face. “Behave.”
An aggressive response rocketed through him. A few minutes ago, it would have triggered that wrestling match he’d wanted. Now he twitched against his bonds, testing them. Webbed nylon in good condition was a bitch to break.
She returned to the sous vide tank, ostensibly ignoring him, except the hip action said otherwise. The mesmerizing movement of her bare back and shoulders, her slim neck, was an unconscious bonus.
“You’re so beautiful.” His heart turned over like a bingo ball in a cage. Or a rock falling off a cliff, seeing the ground coming, but if she was there…okay. Just, okay.
She put her chin to the bare shoulder, a brief acknowledgment, her lashes brushing her cheek. Then she grasped the rubber handle attached to the pipe and lifted it free of the water. The glistening copper dripped, reminding him of her slickness when he’d fed on her pussy.
She made an adjustment to the controls before she moved his way. The tube uncoiled behind her. It was a closed system, water flowing into one end of the U-shaped pipe and going out the other, back to the tank, to maintain the constant temperature.
“Remember, no matter how much it hurts, it’s not going to burn you enough to require medical care. I promise you that. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.” He could manfully assert he would be fine, that he didn’t care, but the brain’s survival instinct could put a lot of pressure on a man’s resolve. Offering that key piece of knowledge would placate it enough to help him serve her desires.
“Good.” She stood before him. A total bitch, a tough woman, a badass. Yet her breasts were small and sweet, her bone structure so delicate, the nip of her waist calling to the grip of his hands. He wanted to cherish, devour and fight her, all at once.
She laid the pipe on his shoulder and biceps. He’d steeled himself to immobility, ready to resist the instinct to jerk away, but it felt…warm. Not too bad. If she put it against the places she’d beat upon earlier, it’d soothe like a heating pad.
He was smart enough not to be deceived, though he savored what she did as she waited. She stroked his hair again with her free hand. No pulling this time. She leaned her hip against his arm, letting him feel fabric and warm skin.
Then the heat started to change. To increase. Exponentially.