He huffed a laugh. That was a beating?
And he’d been worried?
“Is that Ben?” The almost inaudible voice came from behind him. Sounded shocked. More whispers drifted over his ears. He disliked having his back to the door, but fuck, this was the Shadowlands. He knew all the people here.
And, oddly enough, he trusted that the slender bounty hunter could probably take out nine-tenths of the members without breaking a sweat.
The rhythm of her patting hands on his ass paused for a second. He could imagine the gossips’ expressions when she turned to look at them and undoubtedly gave them one of her ice-through-the-heart stares. The voices sure stopped, leaving only the music and the sound of someone moaning.
The Mistress slapped his ass more forcefully, and a pleasant heat grew, like the mildest of sunburns.
And then she stepped closer and leaned against him, full-body, her breasts providing increased pressure on his upper back. Sweet. He could feel her warmth all up and down with a tight burn where she pressed against his stinging butt.
And then she reached around and grasped his cock.
Startled, he jerked, and his hands almost slipped off the pegs. He recovered quickly.
Her fingers gave him a painful, admonishing squeeze. “Don’t move, Benjamin.”
“No, Mistress.” He heard the growl in his voice.
She laughed. Squeezed again. “You move, and I’ll hold your balls instead of your cock next time.”
Fuck. Those strong little fingers of hers could do some serious damage.
But right now, she was stroking him, up and down, soft and sweet, and he hadn’t thought it possible, but his dick lengthened even more. If she didn’t let him finish, he’d have to jerk himself off in the bathroom before he could return to work.
He felt her breath between his shoulder blades. A butterfly kiss to one deltoid and the other. She stepped back and slapped his ass a couple of times firmly. Such little hands.
A pause.
And then something smacked him harder than shit.
Jesus.
His body went taut.
Before he could even process the pain, more blows hit his buttocks—and not leaving any mild stinging behind this time. His skin felt like a wildfire was burning it to ash. His hands tightened on the pegs; he bowed his head and took it.
She stopped and laid a paddle on the floor beside his feet.
This time when she leaned into him, her breasts still felt sweet as ice cream sundaes. And his ass felt raw as hell. She deliberately rubbed the stinging flesh with hers. “What color are you, Ben?”
When her hand closed on his cock, her fingers were far cooler than his straining erection—and, rather than deflating with the pain, he was even more achingly hard. She stroked him lightly.
He swallowed. Sadist. He was playing with a sadist. Remember that, asshole. “Green, Ma’am.”
“Brave soldier. Now, do you regret challenging me in the entry?”
His ass sure would tomorrow. “No, Ma’am. I’d take a lot more to have your hands on me.”
Silence.
“Did I ask for you to expand on that question?” Her voice had sharpened, and, fuck him, her fingers moved to cup his very, very exposed balls.
“No, Ma’am. But I heard that honesty was good between a top and bottom.” He wasn’t sure what defined Mistress and sub, but had a feeling that giving himself that designation might not be wise.
Wasn’t sure if he wanted to call himself submissive or slave anyway.
“You’re quite daring. So, I’ll give you a choice. Would you like three blows done with all my might—or lighter ones until I tire?” Her thumbs rubbed the front of his cupped balls; her fingertips pressed upward almost to his asshole. Each movement sent such intense electrical arcs to his cock that he could almost hear the sizzle.
Choices, choices. And then he knew the right answer. “Whatever the Mistress pleases.” Odd, just saying that sounded right. No choices, giving her all the control.
Her forehead was against his back. Her sigh made a circle of heat against one scapula. And then she stepped away.
He tensed. Prepared to take it.
She reached around him again, and her cold, slick hand circled his dick. Moved up and down. Her fingers, coated in lube, stroked him so fucking knowledgably that she had him at go within a minute.
His teeth ground together. “Mistress… I need to—”
“Five more strokes, Benjamin. Hold on until I say.”
He could only grunt his answer.
“One. Two.” She gripped him mercilessly, slid from the root to the tip—and her thumb circled the head.
Jesus. He’d never been so hard. His balls felt as if they’d compressed right into his groin. His entire spinal column was flattening with the pressure.