Chapter One
Cal’s Dungeon, Niagara Falls, New York
Cal raised his arm and brought it down sharply, flicking his wrist at the end of the strike. The copper whip lashed her back and she moaned. He glanced at the heart monitor and frowned. Next to it, the EEG displayed sharp peaks and deep valleys.
He had worked her hard tonight, and the impulse to take it further told him it was time to stop. Her back was a perfect grid. Electricity coursed along his skin, not abated in the least by the two hours he had spent with her. It was becoming a problem.
He walked across the room and opened a drawer, exchanging the thin copper whip for a leather one before he returned to her. Since he was still so juiced, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves before he stroked her back. She liked the leather, had never questioned why he usually kept his gloves on while they played. She had never tried to kiss him, never wanted to snuggle afterward. She had never chafed at the restriction of the blindfold. Really, she was perfect. It was a shame she had peaked so soon.
Her back spasmed under his caress and she moaned again. She had climaxed many times during their session, but since this was their last time together, he wanted to leave her with happy memories. He eased one glove from his hand. “Don’t move,” he whispered.
She wasn’t going anywhere, tied facedown, spread-eagle, on his table, but he thought she would enjoy the warning. He locked his energy in his core and reached between her legs, one eye on the monitors. His finger slid easily through her folds until he found his target. He allowed the faintest current to connect his fingertip to her clit.
“Oh my God, Sir! What is that?” Her voice was thick, almost drowsy.
Sooner or later, they always began to ask questions. Sooner or later, they always wore out. He didn’t answer her, just slowly increased the current. She’d climax long before her levels peaked again. In fact, he might be able to do this a few more times before she passed out from pleasure. She’d like that.
He stroked his gloved hand down her marked back. She screamed, a sound he loved, so he did it again. He kept one hand positioned between her thighs, the other moving over her back. He kept his eyes on the monitors.
Her body was rock-hard under his hand. He could feel the tension in her muscles, see the strain in her trapeziums, her buttocks and the well-defined cords of her hamstrings. Her cries were continuous, long, keening wails. It would be truly sadistic for him to stop now, and for a moment, he was tempted.
He felt a wide grin spread across his face. No, he wouldn’t stop.
He increased the current flowing through his fingertip by one tiny amp, keeping the rest of his energy contained. The human body simply couldn’t handle his kind of power. It could, however, afford a different kind of release.
She cried out when he pulled his hand away from her in order to roll a condom down the length of his cock. Aware of how much juice he had buzzing inside him, he was careful to adjust his leather pants so that her bare thighs would not touch his skin. He thrust his gloveless hand behind his back and stepped up to the table again. Tied as she was, he could fuck her without having to touch her with anything but his covered cock.
She climaxed, hard, when he entered her. He kept his strokes shallow, but he wasn’t gentle. Gentle was not why she was here. She rocked in time with his thrusts, not even screaming anymore. Her walls rippled around him and he could see her pussy and ass convulsing with near-constant orgasms. He kept the pace brutally fast, enjoying the connection between them, feeling it build, loving the electric response of her body to his.
As his orgasm approached, he glanced at the monitors—steady in safe zones. He double-checked her blindfold, used both hands to hold his leather pants between them and made sure he was grounded, with his steel-reinforced boots planted firmly on the concrete floor. His vision blurred, went blue at the edges. He smelled sparks in the air. Thunder rumbled in his ears. His thoughts turned to his favorite fantasy—bare skin, soft, silky, sweaty, impossibly bare skin—and he lost control.
Cal locked the door behind her with a desperate sense of relief. He’d thought she was never going to leave. Apparently, that one question had broken a dam inside her, and she had hit him with a torrent he couldn’t answer without sparking a dozen more questions he wouldn’t answer—especially when he had said they weren’t going to see each other again.
He went downstairs to clean up the dungeon and then headed for the garage. Their session had been nothing but a tease for him, and he needed to find another way to release energy. He was loathe to spend the rest of the night working, which is what he usually did when there was no other way to find relief. The idea of stockpiling fuel cells did not hold the same appeal as kinky sex. He’d rather put his energy into something more satisfying, but if he didn’t do something, he was going to start leaving a trail of blue fire behind him…or burn the house down while he was sleeping…or the neighborhood…or the city.