Beth took a step toward him, only to be pulled up short by the chains. She wanted to touch him, to reassure him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I haven’t told anyone that story before, though plenty of people at Las Palmas know about what happened.”

“That’s why collar is on your hard limits list?”

“Yes. I’m one of the reasons Las Palmas has an alternative. There’s too much potential emotional baggage with a collar.”

Beth nodded. Partners or groups who wanted to be formally recognized as being in an exclusive relationship within the club had to be bonded. Often that meant collaring too, but bonding was actually a formal arrangement between the parties.

There were things she wanted to say, should say—that she was sorry for asking him to collar her, that if she’d known she wouldn’t have asked, that she’d never been happier as a submissive than she was with him.

But the words wouldn’t come, stuck behind a wall of awkwardness Beth would never lose, so instead she responded in a way she hoped he’d understand. Turning, she bent, resuming her position, waiting for him to continue caning her.

He didn’t react, and Beth’s stomach clenched with embarrassment and regret. Just as she was about to stand up, his hands cupped her hips. He stepped up behind her, and even through his pants she could feel the heat of his cock against her ass.

“Beth.” Her name was a plea, a pledge, on his lips.

“Yes, Master?”

He moved away, and she wasn’t surprised when she heard a faint whistle, followed by a line of fiery pain as he struck her for a third time.

This time she whimpered. “Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t. You don’t have to say that.”

“But I mean it.”

“Why?”

this you’re going to fuck me while you choke me and we’re both going to come. Then we’ll do something else, and we’ll come some more and I won’t have to worry about whether I’m pleasing you, or being a good submissive. That’s all

head back, tears in her eyes, but the trembling that wracked her wasn’t just from pain. Then he was there, his big body huddled around hers, his now-naked hips pressed against her abused ass, one hand on her back keeping her

arousal because he’d caned her, anticipation from his naked

to her sex. Fingers tightened around her throat as he thrust in. Beth sucked in air—she could still breathe, but she couldn’t

cock filled her. He

jerk down the bustier until her breasts

whisper, but he growled in apparent pleasure

sensations—pain and pleasure chief among them. It took her a moment to realize she was fighting him, not physically, but emotionally, so focused on sorting out what she was feeling and what was happening that she hadn’t given

to do was

of her anger at him, at herself. Releasing her worry and

as if he understood. Maybe he did. He knew her in a way no one else did, or

want to feel you

couldn’t respond, the pleasure and his hold on her robbing her of breath. Instead, Beth let her body tell him what he needed to know. When he pinched her right nipple hard, twisting the bud to the point of delicious pain, she tipped over that glittering edge, falling into the delicious darkness of

James groaned, jackhammering into her fluttering pussy

think we were done,

carried her to a mat in the corner, since this room didn’t have a

done with our checklist.”

you want

“No.”

so I can put

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

“What are you feeling?”

and the fingers dancing along her naked back roused

“My ass hurts.”

Doms. “Tomorrow I might give you a nice

on top

was a

on James’s lap, both

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