“Caning and choking.”

“Have you been caned before?”

“Yes, Master James.”

“Where?” He traced a pattern over the smooth fabric of the bustier with the tip of the cane.

Beth had to pause and think before replying. “My back and shoulders, thighs.”

“And did you enjoy it?” The cane dropped to her panties, catching on the lace.

“No, Master James.”

He stepped closer, his arm up to his shoulder now in the light. The cane slipped between her legs, pressing up on the sex.

“And do you think you’ll enjoy it now?”

Beth closed her eyes. A caning was brutal by anyone’s standards. She wasn’t a pain bottom, so for her the pleasure from a caning would have to come from the submissive aspect of it. With anyone else she would have said no, would have accepted the caning because that’s what a good submissive did.

Yet she knew, she knew, that with Master James even this otherwise terrifying implement of torture would lead to bone-melting pleasure.

“Beth, you didn’t answer my question.” There was a hint of chastisement in his voice. Instead of upsetting her, it pissed her off.

Her gaze snapped up, to the shadows where his face would be. “You know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Beth jerked her chin to the side. “Why? You know how I react to you. You know I want…” More. I want to wear your collar.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and tense.

“Take a small step backward, bend at the hips.” The cane guided her, pushing against her pussy. “Back up more. Arms together, bend your elbows.”

bent at the waist, her torso not quite parallel with the floor, her arms together supporting her upper body weight, wrists higher than

his bare hand on the back of her thigh, and she felt the skin to skin contact along every nerve ending in her body. Unable to balance the physical demands of this position with the emotional work

strip of skin between the top of her panties and the bottom of her bustier. Teeth nipped at the line of

Beth whispered, squeezing

the future or the past, there was only now,

panties, then inched them down. She was wet despite her efforts to ignore him, and the lace clung to the slick folds of

you. I know how aroused you are. You

“I know, Master James.”

“Are you scared?”

But not of physical

ass, paused, as if he heard the

cane your ass. Then I’m going to

containing none of the more obviously pleasurable

the cane landed across the middle of both ass cheeks. The cane was quiet compared to

hurt—not more than was bearable, but enough that she couldn’t stop herself

along the mark he’d just left. The skin was too hot for the touch to be pleasant, but when he wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her tight against his side as his fingers dipped into her pussy, Beth forgot about

“You’re very wet, Beth.”

She moaned, arching her

clit to the entrance of her pussy and back, moving with maddening

the caning alone.” His voice was dark, the hand around her waist tightening. “I could bring you right to the edge of orgasm a thousand times, each time stopping to lay a nice welt on your ass. Eventually you’d be so

Beth spread her legs more, rocking against his finger as much as she

your body would associate the caning

telling her this. That didn’t seem like his

could get so lost, so wrapped up, that it

lashed against her naked skin. This one was lower, striking the soft skin where ass met

place a little. Her underwear tangled around her ankles and she almost fell, but Master James again caught her, two

when I used

Beth couldn’t hide her

on her knees, have her suck me off, and lock her in

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