BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Her breath hitched in her chest and her blood pounded as the scarf pressed in. As soon as she realized the pressure was there, it was gone again. She faltered for a moment, but Master Jensen squeezed her ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Focus, Anna,” he admonished her.

“Yes, Master.”

She went back to fucking herself on him, using the slow, grinding rhythm she knew would drive him wild.

Again the scarf tightened, restricting her breath for just a moment longer than the first time. She looked at her master, her lips parted to take the breath he held captive. Their gazes locked as he tightened the pressure for the third time, this time holding it long enough that her chest heaved.

A spike of pleasure shot through her. Anna’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What?” he asked, seeing her reaction.

“That felt…that felt good.”

He nodded once. “It’s restricting the oxygen flow to your brain. Carbon dioxide is accumulating and that’s what’s making it feel good’. It’s like being at a high altitude.”

She listened vaguely, glad he knew the physiology, but not wanting to think about it too much, in case it distracted her from the pleasure.

She could feel his fists on her back, knew he held the ends of the scarf there. It both thrilled and terrified her that he controlled her so completely.

“Faster,” he growled, and Anna increased the speed of her hips.

He stole another breath from her, holding it long enough that her body spasmed, reacting to the denial with an illogical pleasure. Giddiness swept through her.

“Faster,” he demanded again.

shoulders, threw her head back and fucked him hard and fast. Her ass slapped his thighs and

the scarf

“Come, Anna,” he demanded.

body into a heightened state of pleasure. Her chest heaved, she could feel her pulse fluttering in her neck. She was owned, controlled, pleasured and worshiped. She trusted him completely. He mastered her, body and soul, and she owned him in returned. The scarf went slack and his hands grabbed her hips, holding her still as he jackhammered up into her pussy, shouting as he came deep

chest, the scarf still snug around

***

palms tingled with the need

must have been a few years old. In person she was more mature in her face, placing her in her late rather than early twenties. Or perhaps it was the way she was dressed in the photo that made her seem younger. Tonight she wore a short Asian-style robe. It had fallen on one side, leaving her breast exposed. Her nipple was a lovely shade of rose, the tip hardened into a sweet little bud. A wide pink sash around her waist emphasized the curves of her

and cane her ass and breasts until she begged

of arguing with Mistress Faith and he hadn’t gotten anywhere. He’d been tempted to walk away, forfeiting his membership, but Faith had convinced him to at least meet with the sub, and trust that the

Mae would refuse and he would be free to find another

knew he needed his time here to fight

wanted to teach him, Xavier doubted she had any idea how truly torturous this was, because though he and Mae were as different as silk and steel,

silence the more the expression faded. Good. He wanted her scared enough to walk away. When she shifted her weight and clasped her hands together, Xavier decided it was probably time to show her exactly what was going on. Placing his hands on the

* * *

down. She sobbed, releasing the last bits of tension she held in her body. He freed her from the cuffs and clamps, then laid them down and curled around her, holding and protecting her. When she rolled over to face him, she could see the power and impact of

sexy scars,”

he knew how much it revealed about his internal

survived,”

gotten her first look at the boy she loved. But it hadn’t been a boy who lay there, it had been a man, his body wrapped in gauze, forty percent of him burned,

she wanted. She’d even tried to date—but it hadn’t worked. She found the men she met at the firm or at posh cocktail parties weak and insipid. She’d longed for her former boyfriend’s strong hands—and she’d hated herself for choosing a career over a future. Though only in her mid-twenties, she’d started to

acquaintances. He’d invited her out for drinks, plied her with expensive champagne,

brought her to Las Palmas as a guest. Senior partner Ramon Leo turned in to Master Leo. He’d tutored and guided her as she explored her

her ex-boyfriend was safely set up in a good hospital, she’d unloaded on her boss, admitting that he was the reason she craved such strong men, and that it was killing her to see him so badly hurt. Seeing her beloved again, and seeing him in such pain, had made the outlet Las Palmas gave her