Safeword: Davenport(14)

Another strike came, and another. She began screaming. The pain was unbearable, and she couldn't pull her knees together, couldn't use her arms. Without the chest restraint, she thrashed around a great deal, but couldn't avoid the blows. They kept coming, one every three or four seconds—too soon for her to manage the pain, and it started to build on itself. He picked up the pace, striking every two or three seconds, his arm raising and lowering, raising and lowering.

"Ottoman!"

He redirected in mid-swing, striking his own leg to avoid hitting her again. She saw him wince, but didn't feel the least bit guilty.

Blue eyes met hers as he ran his hand through her folds, her hips trying to follow as he lifted it, his fingers glistening wet. He kneeled up, allowing her to watch him roll on a condom before sitting back on his feet.

"I'd like to give you ten more strokes on your pussy—ten strokes you can't safeword out of—and then I want to fuck you. Do you agree?"

She almost came from his words. She wasn't sure she could handle ten more strikes, was positive it was a bad idea, but wasn't capable of saying no at that moment. She nodded her head in agreement and he smoothed the condom again before reaching for the flogger.

The blows began without warning.

There was no time between them; they just rained down on her pussy, on her clit—the thin rubber strands biting into her. She screamed and thrashed like an animal trying to escape the brutality.

And then it stopped and Zach was above her, entering her. She was wet, ready for him, but his entrance was an invasion as he drove into her and began thrusting, stealing her breath as he plunged. His eyes reflected barely contained violence, a raging storm, and her orgasm engulfed her, his fierce gaze never leaving hers as she came under him, their passion a tangible thing that took her breath away as her body jerked and reacted to his.

He fucked her through the climax, not letting up, maintaining an almost inhuman pace as his hips savagely rammed into her and his eyes stayed locked onto hers.

One zenith receded and another took its place, rocking her, sustaining her through the bestial fucking. When at last he came, he did so with a roar, pushing into her with his back arched and his face aimed towards the ceiling as he froze and filled the condom, his cock jerking inside of her as he remained perfectly still, frozen in time.

His first words when his orgasm faded were, “Are you okay?” Genuine concern reflected in his face.

She nodded, realized he needed more. “I'm great, Zach. Thank you, that was... thank you."

He unhooked her wrists and sat back on his knees to release her ankles and thighs. Looking up, eyes meeting hers again, he leaned over her as if he were doing a push-up and stopped halfway, keeping his weight off her.

His lips touched hers and emotion poured through the connection. She shyly reached up with her hands, caressing his face as he kissed her with a gentle passion that made her want to cry.

He kissed her breathless again before rolling sideways, landing beside her with his right leg curled over her hips, head propped on his hand. “I assume from all those orgasms it was good for you?"

She grinned, totally sated, and moaned her agreement. “Good might be an understatement."

His face turned serious. “We should've talked about safewords more before I asked you to give it up for me. Even for ten strokes... but in the heat of the moment..."

She sighed. “Yes, probably, but don't beat yourself up. We'll talk about it later, but please, not now. I want to float."

Dana relaxed into his arms, drifting in and out of sleep until Zach carried her to the playroom bed, cradled like a small child. He removed the hardware from her body, and insisted she drink a glass of water before he let her fall asleep.

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Chapter Five

* * * *

Dana woke to the smell of food the next morning, a vanilla and cinnamon scent tickling her consciousness, waking her with the promise of something good.

She heard footsteps and opened her eyes to Zach setting a platter on a side-table. She sat up, smiling as he pushed pillows behind her, kissing her on the forehead before he stood and pulled a tray from behind the bed, opening the legs and situating it over her lap.

A plate of waffles was placed in front of her, the pat of butter still in the process of melting. He arranged her milk and silverware before retrieving another tray with a flourish that made her laugh.

"This smells wonderful.” She took a bite and moaned at the blend of cinnamon and vanilla. She'd never eat cinnamon again without thinking of Zach.

He gingerly got into bed and pulled his tray over his lap. “I love your noises, which I assume to mean you approve. You can't buy frozen waffles with the perfect balance of cinnamon and vanilla, so I had to experiment until I figured it out. I'm not a cook, but this recipe is hard to mess up, and my waffle iron is smarter than most—just heat it up and set the timer."