"Oh, Sir … "
After washing up, he returned to her. He skimmed his forefinger across her cheekbone. "Would you like to continue?"
Instead of the usual response where she would defer to his decision, she said, "Yes, please."
The surety in her voice stoked his craving for her.
He crossed to the wall and raised the hook, stretching her body taut, keeping her in place and wide open for him. "Comfortable?" he asked as he crossed the room to check her bonds and positioning. He knew erotic pain could trump real cramps, at least in the short-term. It was his responsibility to ensure she was free to enjoy his torture.
He walked around her, looking at her from every angle. "You're a beautiful woman, Brandy."
Her nipples were erect, as if begging for his touch. There was nothing clinical about the way he took hold of each and squeezed the pink flesh between his thumbs and forefingers. This was about her pleasure rather than for maximum effect.
With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes.
"Look at me," he instructed.
She complied right away.
"Good," he told her. "As much as possible, I want you looking at me. Talk to me, communicate with me. Scream, even."
"I'm not much of a screamer, Sir."
"Yet," he countered.
"Challenge on, Sir."
"Bratty sub."
"You could have ordered me to be quiet."
"No chance in hell." He couldn't remember anything this pleasurable in … perhaps years. "Any preference in floggers?"
"Thuddy, not stingy."
"So I can beat you for a good, long time?"
"Yes, please, Sir."
"It will be my pleasure."
Her eyes were wide. He saw expectancy in the deep blue depths. He and Brandy were more alike than he might have thought. Like him, what they had done had merely whetted her appetite.