Page 133 of Bid For Me
But this time she looks even more spectacular because she’smine.
And the whole club knows it because her diamond collar glitters at her throat, telling everyone they can look, lust, want…but they can’t touch.
I love it.
I love her.
She walks to me with a confidence that takes my breath away, sinking gracefully to her knees in front of me before rising and leaning over the bench. Her trust is absolute, and it humbles me every time.
It was her idea to scene together, to come to the club and let others watch, and I was all for it. Anything my beautiful wife wants, she can have. Apart from another lover. I won’t share.
I run my fingers down her spine, feeling the shiver that follows. Then I take the flogger, letting the tails drag lightly over her exposed skin.
The first strike on her bare back lands with a sharp crack, and she gasps, her body arching beautifully. I let the flogger tease her skin. The leather tails trail over her back and thighs, their soft caress a contrast to the sharp snap that follows.
Elle’s fingers grip the edge of the bench tightly, her knuckles whitening as she steadies herself. Her breathing is shallow but steady, her body responding to every stroke with an intoxicating mix of tension and surrender. I focus entirely on her – on the way her muscles shift under her skin, the way her head tilts slightly as if chasing the sensation.
“Good girl,” I murmur, low enough for only her to hear. Her soft moan is all the reward I need, but it ignites something deeper, something primal.
The second strike lands, this time across her lower back, and she shivers. Her hips lift instinctively, presenting herself to me, silently begging for more. I let the flogger linger on her skin, trailing the tips along the curve of her spine, across her shoulders, and down to her thighs. The soft, teasing strokes are almost worse than the strikes themselves – an exquisite torture designed to heighten her anticipation.
Each lash to her back lands with precision, painting her skin with a delicate flush that grows deeper with every strike. I vary the rhythm – some slow and deliberate, others quicker, sharper – keeping her guessing, keeping her on the edge. Her gasps grow louder, her body trembling with every expertly placed blow.
The room is silent except for the rhythmic crack of the flogger and Elle’s increasingly desperate sounds. The audience fades further into the background, and all I see is her – the way she trusts me completely, the way she gives herself over to this moment without hesitation.
I pause to run my hand over her warmed skin, feeling the heat radiating from her body. Her back arches into my touch, and her soft whimper undoes me. “You’re doing so well,” I whisper, brushing a kiss to her shoulder before stepping back and resuming the rhythm.
Her moans turn to cries, her body trembling as she rides the edge of pleasure and pain. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks, but I know they’re not from distress. They’re the release she’s been craving, the catharsis only I can give her.
The final strikes land lower, across the curve of her ass and the tops of her thighs. She gasps loudly, her whole body quaking as I bring her to the very edge of her endurance. I lower the flogger, setting it aside as I step closer to her.
With infinite care, I run my hands over her skin, soothing the areas I’ve marked, tracing every line of her trembling body. She’s a masterpiece – her flushed, radiant skin glowing under the lights, her breaths shallow but steady, her body completely open to me.
“Breathe, angel,” I murmur, leaning in to kiss the side of her neck. “You’ve done beautifully.”
When I scoop her into my arms, she melts against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Her trust, her surrender, iseverything. I carry her towards the closest private room. The applause erupts around us, but I ignore it, focused entirely on the woman in my arms. She’s trembling, but her smile is radiant, her eyes heavy-lidded with contentment.
In the private room, the world slows. I lay her on the soft cushions, brushing her hair back from her face.
“You’re incredible,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She smiles up at me, her eyes soft and full of love. “Only because you make me feel safe.”
I take my time tending to her, massaging her back, running my hands over every inch of her skin until she’s completely relaxed. Then, when her breathing evens out and she nods her consent, I lower myself over her, pressing her into the cushions as I slide into her.
This isn’t about power or dominance. It’s about us – about the life we’ve built together, the trust we’ve fought for, and the love that binds us. And as we move together, I know without a doubt thatthisis my legacy. She is my everything.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Elle
The club feels different tonight– less like a daunting maze of expectations and more like a second home, which I guess it kind of is now that we’ve been coming here together for the last couple of months. Not every week, but enough that people know us.
The low hum of voices, the clink of glasses, and the soft thrum of music wrap around me like a familiar embrace as I lean against the polished bar, nursing a glass of sparkling water, my fingers tracing idle patterns along its rim.
A sharp whistle cuts through my thoughts. “Well, well, if it isn’t the woman of the hour,” Candy drawls, sliding onto the stool beside me with the kind of effortless confidence that only she could pull off. Her grin is wide, mischievous, and distinctly Candy.
I glance at her, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been the woman of the hour a few times now,” I reply, tilting my head. “You’ll have to be more specific.”