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Chapter 45

Xavier watched as Mae obediently closed her eyes. He was fighting his urges—the urge to whip her until she came from nothing more than the pain he inflicted on her breasts. The urge to cut the ropes, drag her to the floor, and fuck her.

He would do neither. At least not yet. He’d promised himself time with her lovely breasts, and he would not let his base urges deny him this opportunity. Her body was bowed and stretched, her breasts lifted like sweet offerings.

Taking the pink tips in his fingers he pinched them, lifting her breasts. Mae moaned around the shaft of the whip, the sound an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.

He slapped her right breast, just hard enough to sting, then repeated the blow on the left. Pausing, he lifted the whip from her mouth, laying it over her thighs within easy reach. He wanted her to be able to use her safe word if she had to.

Xavier slapped her breasts again, this time making sure he got her nipples. She gasped and whimpered. Her fingers brushed his cock as she twitched and Xavier’s knees trembled. He would not be able to make the scene last much longer—his need for her was too fierce.

He spanked her breasts until they were flushed pink, until Mae no longer jumped with each blow, but lifted her chest higher. He rewarded her with a final strike to each nipple.

Taking the lunge whip off her lap, he carefully detached the lash from the shaft, replacing it with a six- inch popper, designed to make that delightful crack noise that evoked visions of a bullwhip. He would never risk hitting a submissive with a tailed whip—though he’d had some who begged for the bullwhip, even after he explained that it would leave them scarred. Instead he used the long lash of this whip, like his bullwhip, to open the mind to the darkness. Xavier tested it against his thigh, making sure the popper wouldn’t fly off. Mae stiffened slightly, probably trying to figure out why the sound was different.

Stepping up beside her, Xavier laid the shaft on her breasts, pressing it against her hard enough that there could be no doubt what it was. Mae’s sweet, kissable lips parted and she let out a long slow, breath.

She was ready.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Xavier struck her breasts. The thwack of the shaft was chased by the cracking sound of the popper snapping the air. Mae gasped, the sharp breath making her abused breasts bounce. Xavier rubbed the whip over her breasts, catching her nipples as he did so. He gave her time, gave her the chance to change her mind.

But the lovely Mae didn’t use her safe word, didn’t retreat into herself or do anything else that would tell him he had to stop.

Xavier struck her again, this time hard enough that a faint pink line appeared. Then again.

He alternated strikes above and below the nipple. After six he switched sides, making sure her breasts got an even amount of attention. Each bounce of her breasts, each gasp and sigh, made Xavier’s cock throb.

Her skin was now nicely marked, her nipples turgid little points. Knowing the end was near, he laid a hard blow on the undersides of her breasts, just below the nipples. Mae screamed, jerking so hard that the chair slid a few inches. She tried to curl up, her upper body twisting awkwardly. Xavier slid the whip between her back and the chair, applying pressure. It was a reminder, and invitation for her to return to her previous position. For a long moment he thought she wouldn’t react and he prepared himself for the next step, but then, with a shuddering sob, Mae arched her back, offering her breasts up for the next blow.

The courage that took, the bravery and faith she had in letting him take her to this dark place, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Xavier longed to kiss her, but the time for that was over.

Thwack.

A thin red line, darker than the pink marks that had come before it, blossomed on her pale flesh. Mae screamed, but then she moaned, her head twisting side to side.

Tossing the whip down, Xavier put one knee on the seat of the chair between her spread legs and leaned over her. Taking a breast in each hand, he squeezed hard.

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There was a storm in her eyes—as if a hurricane was swirling inside her. She was giving him everything she had, everything she was. And in return she demanded all of him, all the darkness and rage that he bottled up every day.

Wanting, needing, to taste that sweet pain, he took her nipples in his mouth. He wasn’t gentle. He bit and sucked, pinched and pulled, drawing on her breasts with hungry hands and mouth. Mae’s gasps turned into cries. Rope creaked as she strained against her bonds. Xavier released her, then jerked his belt from the loops. Doubling it in his hand, he choked up until he held a fold that was no more than four inches long.

The leather belt struck the center of her breast, slapping the aching nipple.

“P-please, Master.” Her teeth were nearly chattering she was shaking so hard, but it wasn’t with pain.

Xavier slid two fingers into her mouth. She bit down, then began to frantically suck on them. He spanked her other nipple.

Mae came. Her already tightly bound body went tense. He could see the muscles in her upper arms, neck, and thighs straining even as her teeth clamped down on his fingers so hard he wondered if she’d broken the skin.

Tossing the belt to the side he squeezed her breasts, holding her as the last of the orgasm rippled through her. Her jaw relaxed and he pulled his hand away.

“It’s not enough.”