BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

“It’s not enough.” The words were faintly baffled, and he wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself.

Xavier rose and stared down at her. “You came.”

Mae’s storm-filled eyes met his. “It’s not enough.”

Grabbing her head, he kissed her savagely. The need he’d held in check slammed against his control, causing cracks in the armor he wore to survive. “No, it’s not.”

He flicked open his pocket knife and cut through the ropes that bound her to the chair. With her hands still tied together he jerked her up, then dragged her a few feet and forced her to kneel on the seat of the armchair facing the back. Standing behind it, he pulled her upper body down so her midsection was on the padded back and her abused breasts hung exposed and vulnerable below her.

Xavier jerked on the fastenings of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. He was wet with pre-come, so hard it was almost painful.

wrapped her braid around one

take a deep breath through her nose, then thrust back in. Mae adjusted her position, bracing her elbows on the

started fucking her mouth in truth, using the hold on her hair to guide and control her. Mae swallowed as his thick length pushed deeper into her, past the point of comfort, to the place where there was no doubt that this was about control

free hand and pinched one of her nipples. Mae gasped around his cock, and he took advantage of the moment to pick up the speed of his thrusts. The wet sound of his cock sliding into her mouth was punctuated by her muffled moans as he

coming loose from the braid to spill around her shoulders. Along the edges of her panties he could see a few marks from the flogging. She was lovely in her submission—not helpless, because even now he sensed that in her core she was still in control. Not of her body, because that belonged to him, but of her mind. He’d opened the door, showed her the darkness on the other side, but it

jerking them up so the

blessed peace filled him. It was like silence after a lifetime of throbbing noise, or dawn heralding the end of a ceaseless night. He dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the chair. Mae’s cheek dropped to rest on his head, her

he’d come

time he didn’t think about her—what she needed or was feeling. He took rather than gave. Took the release, took the comfort of her touch. He didn’t know

simple breast whipping, a primer to what he’d planned to do to her in the courtyard. It