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.

* * *

the sweet pleasure of submission. Some wanted the heady sting of pain. Some had no choice. For some, the darkness inside could only be eased with the dangerous games played

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

had an air of wealth and

Palmas was a sprawling Spanish-style estate north of Los Angeles. Its size and architectural history meant it was mentioned in various guides, but very few people could claim to have ever been inside.

“Welcome back, Xavier.”

see an elegant woman in her fifties rising from one of the leather wing-back chairs. Mistress Faith was one of the overseers of Las Palmas, and a woman he was

title both as a sign of respect

time he was here, though she looked elegant and powerful in a tailored black skirt suit. Outside the Doms’ section of the

it for our meeting.” She patted his arm just above the

a surprise,

suppose you haven’t read

it while here. It was

your timing is simply excellent. We have an hour before

“You mean the barn?”

has air conditioning, it’s not a barn. If it’s elegant, it’s not a barn.” Faith had helped develop Las Palmas, and had overseen

snorted. “It’s nicer than 99% of the world’s housing, but it has horse stalls. It’s a

weren’t

talk. “What’s

seat; I’ll

though this one was simply mineral water. It was time to

to eat.” She motioned