The flirtation, p.22
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       The Flirtation, p.22

         Part #10 of Submissive series by Tara Sue Me
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  focus on how much her chest hurt and how hollow she felt inside.

  She should leave. There was no way she could stay and work on the puzzle now. Sit at a table and pretend everything was okay. It would hurt too much. Hell, it already hurt just being in the same room with him. She pushed back her chair and mumbled something about leaving.

  “Lynne,” he said, but she refused to look his way. “Lynne, look at me.”

  She lifted her head.

  “Don’t go.” He reached for her hand. “I said that because one day is already here. It’s been here all along.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Did that mean . . . ?

  “I love you, too, Lynne.” He pressed a kiss in the palm of her hand. “I thought once before I was doing the honorable and decent thing by letting you go. I was wrong. The honorable and decent thing is always love.”

  He stood up and pulled her to her feet, not seeming to mind the tear that escaped and trailed down her cheek. “And with that love, I have a feeling the universe doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The bass echo of the song currently playing in Luke’s club was so loud the walls vibrated with each beat. It didn’t help that the place was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night. There were so many people, Lynne momentarily considered telling Simon she wanted to reschedule. She knew he would accommodate the request. In fact, he’d told her they didn’t even have to do the scene.

  But she wanted to go ahead with it, and she knew that’s what Simon wanted, too, so if there were more people around than normal, oh well, she’d just have to deal with it. Public play wasn’t one of her most favorite kinks—she typically enjoyed playing in private—but she told herself to view tonight as an opportunity to stretch herself.

  Though she had a feeling the scene itself would be able to do that all on its own.

  Tonight—finally, Simon would say—they were going to do a single-tail scene. And though he had never said so, she had the impression that her ability to handle it would further cement their relationship.

  “You ready?” Abby asked.

  Yeah, she thought, it was a bit odd to have the Wests in attendance, but Simon told her Nathaniel needed to see them in a scene together for his own peace of mind. She agreed, because after December, she’d be moving back to New York to start student teaching and would rarely, if ever, run into them at the club. Daniel and Julie were also in the club somewhere. Cole and Sasha were not. Though Sasha said she thought she’d be fine, Cole put his foot down and said absolutely not.

  Lynne took a deep breath and looked for Simon. He was standing by the St. Andrew’s Cross they were going to use, talking to Nathaniel and Luke. His black bag sat ominously by his side on the floor. “I am,” she said. “Just waiting for Simon to give me the signal.”

  The man in question looked up, as if he’d heard them talking about him. She knew he hadn’t—it was too loud—but he gave her a wink and held up three fingers. She nodded.

  “Three minutes,” she told Abby, and the butterflies began to multiply in her belly.

  Abby gave her a quick hug. “You’re going to do great.”

  Her mouth was suddenly so dry, she couldn’t talk. Giving Abby a smile in reply, she made her way to where Simon waited for her. She was glad he was already there. She feared if he’d had her show up first, the combination of people watching and the St. Andrew’s Cross might have been enough to scare her away.

  No, some inner part of her insisted. Old Lynne might have turned away, but not New Lynne. New Lynne was strong and tough and sexy. It’d take more than a few people watching and a piece of BDSM equipment to scare off New Lynne. She straightened her back, held her head up, and said good-bye to Old Lynne forever.

  She came to a stop before Simon, moving to her knees in one fluid movement. “Sir.”

  He was not her Master. Not yet anyway. And because of that, he only allowed her to call him Sir. Though she hoped that changed one day.

  “Lynne,” he said, sliding a hand through her hair. “You look absolutely fabulous tonight.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re going to show all these people what a good girl you are, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her hands grabbed her knees. A tap on her shoulder reminded her that was not the way he wanted her hands positioned. She released them and turned them so her palms were up.

  “Very nice.” His hand tightened in her hair, and she didn’t try to stop the moan, knowing that unless he specifically told her to be quiet, he wanted to hear her sounds. He said it was because he liked to know he was affecting her.

  She’d imagined he’d say something to the people watching or perhaps tell her again what they were doing, but he did neither. From the way he focused on her with that intense look in his eyes, she got the feeling the people watching didn’t exist for him. She decided they wouldn’t exist for her either.

  “Stand up and strip for me,” he commanded.

  For me. With those two words, he reinforced what his actions whispered. There were only the two of them. No one else mattered.

  For him, she would strip. She wouldn’t do it because she was an exhibitionist, because she wasn’t. She wouldn’t do it because she enjoyed showing off, as that had never been her style. She did it because he asked her, and if he asked for something and it was in her power to get or do, she’d get or do it. Pleasing him had become like a high, and she needed a hit.

  She stood, only mildly surprised that she didn’t tremble. Looking only at him, she quickly removed her clothes, placing them in a pile on the floor.

  He stepped around her in a circle, observing what felt like every inch of her. But he did more than just look; he stroked one arm, then teased a nipple. He came close to whipping her body into a frenzy by barely touching her.

  “Do you still want me to use a single tail on you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir.” She was so ready, and her body swayed a bit in anticipation.

  “It’s going to hurt,” he warned her.

  “Yes, Sir. I want it like that.”

  “Should I go easy on you?”

  “God, no, Sir. Please.” Where had that even come from? Hell no, she didn’t want him to go easy on her. If anything, she wanted him to go harder on her. She wanted to prove to him, as well as to herself, that she could take anything he gave her and then some.

  “Did I insult you with that question?” he asked.

  “No, Sir. You just surprised me.”


  “I see no reason why you would want or need to go easy on me. That you felt the need to ask me if I thought you should meant you probably thought I’d at least entertained the idea.”

  “Hell,” he said. “I have a lot of work to do if you can speak so eloquently while you’re standing naked in front of me.”

  She felt her face flush, and there was a faint giggling from those people gathered around to watch. “Yes, Sir. And I look forward to you leaving me speechless.”

  He gave her that easygoing smile that always warmed her heart, but she didn’t miss the hint of desire lurking in his eyes. “Go face the cross, you mouthy sub,” he said, smacking her backside.

  Any lightheartedness she felt at their exchange left as soon as she stood in front of the giant wooden X. No matter how jovial she felt, something about being tied up waiting for someone to whip her sobered her right up.

  Again, he surprised her by not addressing the gathering crowd. Of course, she decided, this wasn’t a demo, and while it wasn’t exactly private, it was a scene just between the two of them.

  “Are you okay?” His voice was so soft she was the only one who heard. His fingers brushed across her shoulder blades, easing tension she didn’t know was there.

  “Yes, Sir. So ready.”

  One at a time, he took her wrists and bound them above her head. He nudged her feet apart and bound them apart as well. She had a brief moment of panic. He’d never tied all four of her
limbs before.

  The panic didn’t have a chance to grow, not under Simon’s watchful eyes. He must have noted her body tense again, because his hands were back on her. This time, he rubbed both shoulders in an impromptu massage. She closed her eyes; it felt so good, and she wondered what was making the humming noise she heard, until she realized it was her and stopped.

  “Don’t be quiet on my account,” Simon said. “I like hearing how I make you feel.” Then, as if to prove his point, he proceeded to place kisses along her spine.

  He took a step away, and she braced herself for whatever he had planned. When he brushed her back with the soft tails of two floggers, she decided to give up trying to guess his next move and just enjoy the moment.

  He proceeded as if they had all the time in the world, doing nothing for what seemed like forever except running the tails over her body. Little by little it seemed as though her body liquefied under his touch. She was certain the only things holding her upright were the bonds he’d placed her in.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered. “So soft and accepting.”

  She didn’t answer because he knew he was right just by observing her. The next time he took a step back, she didn’t move at all, but remained in her almost Zen-like trance.

  He started with two floggers. She was able to tell that much, but he went easy at first, with movements that brought the tails to her with solid impact, though there was a certain softness to his ministrations. It actually felt like a continuation of the massage.

  Daniel had been good with the flogger, but nothing she’d ever experienced felt anywhere as good as what Simon was doing now. She thought it was sort of like how she’d heard you should cook a lobster: gradually turning the heat up by doing it so slowly, the lobster didn’t understand what was happening to him until it was too late.

  It had to be similar. The sound of leather hitting skin exactly matched the strikes she felt and she knew they were no longer soft or gentle. Yet her mind was shouting, “Green, green, green.”

  “You’ll get more when I’m ready to give it, greedy girl,” he said. Apparently, it hadn’t been only her mind shouting.

  “Please, Sir,” she added because she wasn’t above begging.

  “Begging for me to whip you? Are you sure?”

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted anything more. “Yes, Sir.”

  “The massage and the sensual flogging were for you, to prepare your body to take what I’m about to give it.” When he pressed against her, the rough material of his blue jeans provided the friction she craved. Unfortunately, Simon picked up on that very thing and moved so there was no way for her to get relief. She pulled helplessly on her bonds, but they were secured, and she swallowed her groan, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to verbalize how desperately she wanted his jeans, right there, on her swollen clit.

  “Not just yet,” he said. “I’m only getting started, and I’m nowhere near close to letting you climax.”

  She didn’t even try to swallow her groan at that. She’d been almost certain he’d let her come at least once before he used the whip. Moving quicker than she thought possible, he fisted her hair and pulled her head back in a move that turned her on so much she thought for a second she didn’t need friction. If he kept that up, she’d come simply from him pulling her hair. “Is that a complaint?” he all but growled. “Because if you were good, I thought I might fuck you after, but if you can’t be good . . .”

  “I’ll be good,” she babbled. “I promise. I’ll be good.”

  He nipped her ear with his teeth and she swore she felt it all the way to her clit. “Sir, you’re going to make me come,” she whined, grateful for the first time that he had tied her legs apart. If he hadn’t, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d be rubbing them together, well on her way to both orgasm and punishment.

  “You like it when I pull your hair?” he asked, jerking it back again.

  The pull only magnified her need. “Yes, Sir,” she whined.

  “Such a wicked girl, aren’t you?”

  “Only for you, Sir.”

  He chuckled and let go of her hair. “Good answer.”

  Her body was on high alert while he moved behind her, but she didn’t tense up this time. She wanted him to whip her, needed the feel of the release that would come with it. Fortunately, he didn’t make her wait. Without any warning, the whip landed on her butt. The sharp pain diffused into warm pleasure, and she heard herself beg for more.

  She felt like she was surrounded by a million flying insects, each one biting her, but the pain and the pleasure merged so well, she couldn’t tell which was which. She only knew she wanted more. His strokes increased, and like before, she started to giggle, letting everything inside her bubble up and allowing it to escape with the giggle.

  The sound didn’t affect Simon at all. He kept landing stroke after stroke: across her butt, along her inner thighs, and almost delicately on her back. He hadn’t been lying. It hurt, but it was a different type of pain, and it was turning her on.

  Just as suddenly as he’d started, he stopped. She didn’t have the opportunity to complain, because he pressed himself up against her. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, and there was nothing gentle about the way he pulled her head back.

  “I like to hear your giggle,” he said. “It makes the Dom in me pleased. But the sadist in me needs more. He needs to hear you scream. I’m only going to give you five more, but they’ll be the hardest yet.”

  How was it possible to be turned on so much by those words? His lips trailed down the back of her neck, and at the nape, he bit her. She shivered in need. “Yes, Sir. Please.”

  He ran a hand down her body, pressing slightly on the lines he’d left with the whip. “Such a good girl.”

  Then get to it already, she wanted to yell, but chose instead to pull on her bonds.

  She was unaware he’d moved back into place so quickly, and the sting of the whip on her right butt cheek caught her off guard. She could barely process the pain before its twin landed on the left side and she yelped.

  “Getting there,” Simon said.

  She braced herself for the last three, but they never came. Instead, Simon took a few steps and cupped her pussy.

  “Think you can come from my whip alone?” he asked.

  Her mind went blank momentarily.

  He was going to . . . ? On her . . . ?

  She suddenly realized how very, very exposed she was. There was nothing hidden from him, and she was so very vulnerable. “No, Sir. I don’t think . . . that is . . . I’m not sure . . .”

  “I didn’t hear a red in there, so unless I do, I owe you three more, and I’m going to see if I can get you to come.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She didn’t want to tell him that there was no way on the face of the earth that she could come from a whip. On the other hand, he seemed awfully sure of himself. “It’s just if you want to get me off—”

  He still had his hand between her legs, and one of his fingers was getting very, very close. Almost. Almost.

  Just a little bit more.

  He stepped away. “Trying to tell me how to get you off, girl?”

  She could have shouted at him. How could he get her so damn close to release and then leave her like that? But the tail end of the whip stuck her inner thigh, and ohmygod it hurt, but it was a beautiful, hazy kind of a hurt that made her see stars, and she wanted it again.

  “Please, Sir,” she said, and was rewarded with the same thing on the other thigh.

  Holy hell, she hadn’t ever experienced anything that even remotely felt like that. She wanted more and she wanted him inside her and she wanted to grind against him so he could get as deep as he could. But mostly she just wanted.

  She wasn’t exactly sure where the last strike of the tail landed. All she knew was that her release hit her in a wave of white light and a loud squeal, and she knew she’d broken into two million pieces and she just didn’t care, because even if she somehow got put
back together, she would never feel anything that amazing again. She laughed because the thoughts were spinning around her head in so many different directions and she had no clue what any of them meant.

  “Lynne?” Simon was all around her, everywhere, but she couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. “Lynne?”

  Two million pieces. “More like Humpty Dumpty.”

  • • •

  Out of all the possible outcomes to the scene, Lynne passing out was not one Simon had ever considered. He quickly unbound her, while yelling for someone to get a blanket. He picked her up in his arms, muttering his thanks when someone dropped a blanket around her.

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