Black Listed(62)

And it hadn’t been long before his kink had become her kink.

While Sawyer identified as 100 percent heterosexual, her sexual preferences had always been a bit more fluid. Sawyer had loved to explore this aspect of her, pushing her boundaries to their limits. No matter how many hands and mouths touched her, they were all an extension of her Master, and rather than the experience causing any jealousy among them, they’d become closer as lovers and partners. It was all a matter of communication and trust.

She didn’t have a chance to examine the additional strangers before Sawyer grabbed her waist with both of his hands. The man behind her moved aside, giving Sawyer the ability to shove her toward the bed. As the back of her knees hit the mattress, he whirled her around and, with a hand on her spine, pushed her facedown on the bed.

He replaced the hand with his knee, pinning her to the mattress. “Oz. Get over here and pull down these pants of hers. It’s time we taught her a lesson she’ll never forget.”

She twisted her neck around to see the man with the dreads walk forward, a wicked grin visible even with the mask still on.

Oz.

The knowledge of who these men were popped into her head.

These must be his best friends—Oz, Hunter, and Rowan.

In one smooth motion, Oz yanked down her leggings and panties, baring her ass for all the men to see. A breeze that felt more like a warm breath wafted over her skin. Only a second later, a sharp sting on her right ass cheek drove her to her toes.

Son of a bitch. That was a warm breath. Oz had bitten her.

“Mm,” Oz said. “I couldn’t stop myself from taking a taste of that luscious ass. Just look how easily she bruises.”

Sawyer tugged on her hair, jerking her head back. “Wait until we see it covered in red stripes. You got the crop, Rowan?”

“I do. Would you like to do the honors, or shall I get her warmed up for you?” Unlike the playful Oz, this man—Rowan—spoke in a clipped tone that conveyed his seriousness.

“You’re the real sadist of the group,” Sawyer said, climbing on the bed. He straddled her waist and restrained her shoulders with his hands. “I think you should go first. After all, this is a punishment.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Rowan responded. He didn’t give her time to prepare before the first whack landed on the same spot where Oz had bitten her, the sting painful but not unmanageable. “Hmm. I was going to warm her up, but I’m in the mood to watch her squirm. Let’s watch the little masochist dance.”

Each blow stronger than the last, whack after whack lit up the nerves on her ass, a blazing heat spreading like wildfire across her sensitive skin. Tears pricked her eyes, the pain almost blistering as he made sure he didn’t miss a single spot. She should’ve wanted to evade the stings, and yet she greeted every one of them with a subtle raise of her ass.

There was no escape from the onslaught.

Sawyer’s weight on her body kept her from shifting, protecting her from harm if she made any sudden moves, the crop hitting a kidney a dangerous possibility.

There was no escape.

Not that she wanted to.

The arousal bloomed like a flower, colorful and vibrant. Her clitoris beat in sync with her heart, her body a live wire. She was sinking into a place she hadn’t been in several years. A place where time had no meaning, love had no reason, and sex had no limits.

“I don’t think the crop is much of a punishment for her,” came a voice that was somehow rumbly and smooth at the same time. It must have been Hunter. He was the only one whose voice she hadn’t heard before.

“You think you can do better?” asked a voice she recognized as Rowan’s.

“Hell, yeah,” said Hunter.

Sawyer lifted himself off her back. “Get her up, then. It’s time to see how much she can take.”

A moment later, she was hefted to her feet. Her limbs were liquid, her head heavy. One of the men maneuvered her toward an open area of the room. After he removed her shirt and bra, leaving her completely naked, her arms were raised above her head. A rope tied around her wrists. Her legs spread. More rope around her ankles. The ropes tightened. Her body stretched.

Wielding a black flogger in his hand, Sawyer stood in front of her, looking every bit the dangerous intruder he pretended to be. Fisting her hair in his other hand, he tipped her head back. “She’s floating.” He smiled, baring his teeth to her.

A sharp biting pain gripped her nipple. She cried out as her nipple began to throb. Then, before she could adjust, the same happened to her other nipple. Clamps. Sawyer had clamped her nipples, and if she had to guess, he’d used the clover ones that tightened when pulled.