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.

braid around one of his

pushing deeper until he felt her throat close around him. He held there then withdrew just enough for her to take a deep breath through her nose, then thrust back in. Mae adjusted her position, bracing her elbows on the chair so her head was higher and at a better angle to accept his cock. Another

in truth, using the hold on her hair to guide and control her. Mae swallowed as his thick length pushed

of her nipples. Mae gasped around his cock, and he took advantage of the moment to pick up the speed

hair 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

the other grabbing the waist of her panties and jerking them up so the fabric ground against her pussy. Mae shuddered through her own orgasm as she sucked the last of

a ceaseless night. He dropped to his knees and rested

emotional release that he’d come here looking for, and that had been building inside him since

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 how long he knelt there, but when he finally sat back he could not pretend that this had been just another session with

breast whipping, a primer to what he’d planned to do to her