Page 128 of Safe Word

And I would give back pain, because it was the only thing I trusted myself to give right.

I hesitated, fingering the leather in my hands.

‘Safe word.’ The demand came quiet but firm, a reminder that this was still her choice, even when everything else belonged to me.

I wouldn’t hurt her – not in the way that broke people. Pain was memory, boundary, release.

‘Red to stop, green to go,’ she whispered.

We breathed.

‘What will it be, little angel?’

She inhaled deeply, and I waited. Patiently. Praying she would trust the monster enough.

‘Green.’

My exhale nearly carried off her name with it like an offering to the devil himself.

This little vixen… she wanted the darkness.

The first strike landed low, painting a beautiful sting across the soft swell of her arse. Not hard – a warning, a greeting. She let out a quick breath, not a moan – but her thighs quivered all the same, the reflexive clench of a body caught between fear and desire.

I waited. Let the silence hold us until anticipation hummed loud enough.

The second landed harder. Still, she didn’t cry out. The welt bloomed slow and red beneath my gaze, and with it came the realisation that this – this surrender – was her gift to me.

My dick was hard, aching, because she was giving me everything, and asking for nothing.

The third strike crossed the first, an X of possession drawn into her skin. A breath trembled through her, then held.

She whimpered, but didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Didn’t tap.

‘Count them.’

‘Three,’ she gasped.

‘Louder.’

‘Three!’

The flogger came down again, snapping against the curve of her hip like a wicked kiss that made her body lurch slightly forward, and wrenched a hiss from between her teeth.

‘Four!’ she cried.

‘You don’t chain me, little angel.’ Another lash, dangerously close to the trembling seam of her thighs in a promise of what I could take and what I would withhold.

‘Five!’ she choked out, voice cracking.

I waited. Listened. Her breath was ragged but steady. No sobs. No panic. Only desire and the smallest tremor of pain laced into it. That was what I wanted. That was what we both needed.

I dropped the flogger, drunk on her already.

My palm ran up the red swells, over her spine that curved beneath it in invitation, and slid around her throat – tightening just enough to remind her what she’d offered – herself.

I crowded her, body pressed flush against her back, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

‘You’re going to beg before I let you come,’ I breathed, and even I could hear the hunger in my voice.