He hit me again. Different spot. Different pain. The fear came thick and sickly sweet, but I managed to ignore the memories.

Q might hurt me. He might bruise, make me bleed, and completely consume me, but he would never destroy me. He’d protect me to the brink.

Moving away, he struck again, focusing on the left side of my ass where he hadn’t spanked. His breathing grew heavy and hard. “Fuck, Tess.” Q squeezed my ass cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His voice was the key to completely freeing me—the reverence and wonderment in his tone. Something changed inside. Something swift and fleeting. The last remaining proverbial chains clanked away, smashing into the glass walls, leaving me finally, finally unencumbered.

I sighed as I managed to refocus completely on the present.

The peg between my legs went from torturing to tempting once again. I bucked my hips, wanting more of the throb.

Q dragged his punishment of choice over my burning flesh. “I’ll give you one guess as to what I’m using on you.” He rocked against me, bumping his hot cock on my hip. Another flick of his wrist delivered more intangible pleasure-pain.

My mind raced. What did he have? What caused multiple burning marks on my skin? The sharp sting hinted he probably broke my skin.

“Um, a ruler?” My voice barely made a sound.

Q chuckled. “Wrong guess.”

The pain came again, and euphoria that I’d forgotten blanketed over me. It turned everything gooey and slow and hushed. Only the crack of Q’s strike and the scalding heat remained.

The peg became my best friend, building me higher and higher, pinching me closer to an unbelievable orgasm. Something uncoiled in my core, growing and growing, wetter and wetter.

He hit me again, lost in his world.

Time ceased to have meaning as Q turned me from submissive to slave. With each strike, I welcomed the fire, transmitting right into my belly.

The next hit me hard. The first wave of an orgasm slipped through my control. I didn’t know if Q would let me come, and I was incapable of asking. I wasn’t human anymore, just lust.

Q paused, reaching from behind to push one firm finger inside me.

I cried out, tears running from my eyes at the joy of being touched.

“Do you want to come, mon coeur? Do you want to explode for me?”

His voice sent me closer and closer to the edge of no return. I nodded, creating static electricity with my hair rubbing against the table.

“In that case, viens pour moi.” Come for me. Withdrawing his finger, he shifted closer, bringing his gorgeous hardness against the back of my thighs. It branded me hotter than anything else. I wanted it. I would cry if I didn’t get it.

Fiery stinging spread on my ass, hurtling me down and down into myself where nothing else existed but senses. I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. My body turned inward, focused only on Q and the peak and pierce of what he did.

Another hit and Q’s fingers crept up between my legs to my pussy. I moaned as the peg kept me wobbling on the very edge of release. With a vicious pull, he tugged it free, releasing the floodgates of blood and ecstasy. I screamed as his fingers slammed inside.

I lost it.

My hips bucked of their own accord, grinding onto Q’s two amazing fingers. My swollen clit required no stimulation—skittering into waves upon waves of pleasure.

Q groaned, stroking my inner walls, forcing my body to shatter into infinity. “Fuck, you’re tight. Keep going. Come, Tess.”

The crest was a tsunami of bliss, crashing with power. Q thrust in perfect rhythm with my contractions, drawing out the orgasm until the last wave smashed into me like a wall of fire.

Once the last ebb rattled my body, Q placed the item he used beside my head, folding his body over mine. His heat made my raw and delicate skin simmer with pain but I loved his weight, his authority. “I told you, you’d come on my fingers. Guess what the next one is, esclave.”

I mumbled something, opening extremely heavy eyelids. The first thing I noticed was the whisk. A whisk?

My eyes shot to Q’s. “You—” My voice was broken from his erotic torture. “You used that on me?” It made sense, the caustic threads of pain—multiple stripes. I hurt everywhere: my cheekbone and hips hurt from the unforgiving table and my shoulders burned from being tied while my ass felt like flames would combust at any moment.

He nodded—his eyes as pale as I’d ever seen. “Yes. You should see your skin. It’s a crisscross of perfection.”  He pressed his erection right between my cheeks. “You didn’t answer me. Tell me how I plan to make you come next.” I knew what I wanted, but I had a feeling Q meant to drag this out. Having him inside would be the last thing I’d earn. I had to try, though. “Your cock. Please fill me, maître.”

He followed the contour of my shoulder, nibbling gently. “You haven’t earned that yet. I’m having too much fun.”

Climbing off me, taking his heat from my wounded ass, he circled the table and untied the rope holding me down. The instant I was free, he came back around, holding the leash like I would run at any moment. Even if I was terrified of what he had planned, I couldn’t run. My legs weren’t functioning; my pussy still shivered with fading echoes of my release.

Q helped me stand, rubbing my lower back as I hissed with discomfort. When I stood upright, he looped his fingers in the silk around my wrists. Jerking me close, I slammed against his naked body. His mouth brushed against my ear, whispering, “My tongue, esclave. That’s what’s next.” He nuzzled my hair away, scraping his teeth on my brand. “You’ll come so fucking hard. You’ll beg me to lick while I hurt you. Because that’s who you are, Tess.”

I winced as his teeth led a threatening trail down my neck. Who was I? I didn’t even remember my birthday or hair colour—Q’s lips were venom poisoning all my thoughts. “Why? Why will I come while you hurt me?” I honestly wanted to know. Had he made me this way? Had circumstances evolved me? Or had I been born with all these black complexities?

Q kissed me. His lips sealed over mine with domination, spearing his tongue into my mouth. I opened to him, loving the vicious but worshipping affection.

Then I screamed as a harsh hand landed on the sore skin of my backside. Q tore his lips from mine, murmuring, “Because you’re mine. My little monster. And I refuse to let you forget it.”

My knees wobbled.

Pushing me away, he smirked. His fist wrapped the leash around his knuckles before striding forward into the dark.

I had no choice but to follow. Walking through such a gloomy unfamiliar room had my instincts screeching on high alert. I wanted to turn on the lights, but the bold way Q directed me kept me trusting—safe.

We stopped beside a wall, the light from the chandelier over the pool table wasn’t able to spread its feathers of light this far. I squinted, vaguely making out a heavy hanging piece of art in the shape of something unrecognisable. Reaching out, I touched it. It was made from hollowed metal judging by the cool slick surface.

Q stretched upward, reaching for the mooring point. The ceiling slopped, making one end of the room high, while the other was touching height. Looking closer, I noticed the industrial looking hook holding the floating piece.

“What are you doing?” I asked, giving in to the temptation of gawking at Q. Fully stretched, completely naked, his muscles bunched as he unhooked the chain and lowered the sculpture to the ground. His biceps trembled as he dragged the piece away, leaning it against the wall.

Collecting a handful of what looked like fabric ropes, he strolled back.

Coming to stop in front of me, he stood proud and almost narcissistic in his perfection. He’d fully embraced being in control—doing what he wanted.

“Remember what I once told you? How I wanted to eat you for days and there would be nothing you could do to stop me?” His voice held a tone I couldn’t decide if I loved or hated.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” His eyes flashed.

“Yes, maître.” My belly twisted with anticipation.

Q held up the intricate web of ropes. “Do you know what Shibari is, esclave?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands as he twisted and twirled the rope back and forth. He was a snake charmer, and I’d fallen completely into his conjury.

He took a step closer, ratcheting my heart rate. “It’s the art of rope and bondage. An art I’ve fantasised about using on you for a fucking long time.” His hand lashed out, grabbing my bound wrists. I struggled a little, knowing it was useless but wanting to spar with him anyway.

Denouncing him and toying with him made me wild in the past. I wanted all that he promised. Hell, I would tackle him to the ground to force his tongue to take me now, instead of making me tremble in wait. But I also wanted to make him hot. To give him his fantasy of taking me against my will.

“I won’t let you.”

His jaw twitched; head tilted slightly. “What did you say?”

“I don’t want any more ropes. But I do want your tongue.” Loving the flutter in my heart, I threw my arms around his head, jumping a little to get my bound wrists to clear his height. The moment I held him, I traced my tongue along his bottom lip, whispering, “You don’t need ropes to make me come.” Even though I’m dying to see what you do to me.

Q shuddered, kissing me hard. His tongue dived deep, conjuring a moan from my soul. His slick heat made me melt in his arms.