| Author: | Lesa Fuchs-Carter | ISBN: | 9781370170180 |
| Publisher: | Lesa Fuchs-Carter | Publication: | March 16, 2018 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Lesa Fuchs-Carter |
| ISBN: | 9781370170180 |
| Publisher: | Lesa Fuchs-Carter |
| Publication: | March 16, 2018 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
When a young model is hired to help at the Valentines Day Sex Convention as a latex-clad dominatrix, she never dreams to what extent the client is wanting her to perform. Will she step up to the role, or will she melt under pressure?
Sneak Peek:
“You like that don't you?” I asked as I slid my fingernails gently along them.
“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, barely audible.
“I can't hear you,” I snapped, and flicked my wrist, slapping the switch hard down along his butt once again.
He sucked in air quickly, “Yes, Mistress, yes I like it.”
I traced the tip of the switch along his back, scratching it over the scars.
“One day you will tell me what happened to you,” I said, quiet enough that it stayed between us.
“As you desire, Mistress,” he responded.
I stepped back away from him. What some people don't understand about flogging, about whips, about pain, is that a little bit of a break between it sharpens the senses, you begin to predict when the next lashing will come. Your body heightens, tenses. The stinging turns to a slow burn and you anticipate. There is a level of fear, but also a level of excitement, and in some cases lust.
When a young model is hired to help at the Valentines Day Sex Convention as a latex-clad dominatrix, she never dreams to what extent the client is wanting her to perform. Will she step up to the role, or will she melt under pressure?
Sneak Peek:
“You like that don't you?” I asked as I slid my fingernails gently along them.
“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, barely audible.
“I can't hear you,” I snapped, and flicked my wrist, slapping the switch hard down along his butt once again.
He sucked in air quickly, “Yes, Mistress, yes I like it.”
I traced the tip of the switch along his back, scratching it over the scars.
“One day you will tell me what happened to you,” I said, quiet enough that it stayed between us.
“As you desire, Mistress,” he responded.
I stepped back away from him. What some people don't understand about flogging, about whips, about pain, is that a little bit of a break between it sharpens the senses, you begin to predict when the next lashing will come. Your body heightens, tenses. The stinging turns to a slow burn and you anticipate. There is a level of fear, but also a level of excitement, and in some cases lust.
