BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

“Oh thank you, Jesus.”

Jensen barked out a laugh. He cupped her hips and in the next moment she felt his breath on her wet pussy.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wet.” He pinched her labia and pulled them open, exposing her aching core.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this aroused, Master.”

“You’re enjoying trying new things—abrasion, arm binding, anal.”

“Oh yes, Master.”

“Good, because we’ve got more to do. Come when you’re ready.”

His lips closed over her clit. Anna screamed. The direct contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves was so intense that her toes curled. Jensen held her upper thighs as he lapped at her clit. Broad strokes of his tongue fanned the already wild fire of her desire. He pulled back and blew on her wet flesh, then circled her clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Master!”

Knowing she had his permission—and she was so aroused that even if she hadn’t she would have come—Anna gave in to the orgasm building in her belly. She sobbed as the pleasure washed over her in heavy, thick waves. Her nipples were diamond hard, her ass throbbing, her channel clenching.

He pulled her deeper under the waves of pleasure, using the flat of his tongue to gently massage her throbbing clit. Anything more direct would have been uncomfortable in her pleasure-sensitive body, but he knew her, knew that he could prolong her orgasm.

Anna sucked in great sobbing breaths as her legs trembled and her pussy throbbed. The last wave crashed over her and she went limp, her head hanging down, her hair nearly brushing the floor.

* * *

Some had no choice. For some, the

room, anticipation making his movements hard and sharp. He needed this. For months he’d been wanting it, lying awake at night dreaming of having a woman bound at his mercy. A week ago it had gone from “want” to “need” when the darkness inside him reached critical levels. He rubbed his bare face, grimacing, then tucked a handful

Lounge, affectionately called the den, was an elegant room with wood paneling, floor to ceiling bookshelves, and robust leather furniture. It had an air of wealth and power, both of which the people who used this room possessed.

Its size and architectural history meant it was mentioned in various guides, but very few people could claim to have ever been inside. Las Palmas was the home

“Welcome back, Xavier.”

fifties rising from one of the leather wing-back chairs. Mistress Faith was one of the overseers of

the title both as

powerful in a tailored black skirt suit. Outside the Doms’ section of the estate she wore a porcelain half-mask, both to protect her identity and hide her age. That was something Xavier understood, though at

patted his arm just above

a surprise, given his life outside of

Faith sighed. “I suppose you haven’t

while here. It was a way to separate who he was to the outside world from who he was at

is simply excellent. We have an hour before

“You mean the barn?”

If it’s elegant, it’s not

than 99% of the world’s housing, but it has

sniffed. “You weren’t

was tired of small talk. “What’s going on?

all. Have a seat; I’ll

and poured another, though this one was simply mineral water. It was time to go find a submissive, one of the women

to eat.” She motioned to the