Kenna
Idon’t know what’s gotten into me, but when Jonas makes me stand and strip, I get a rush. I can feel his eyes on me and without the blindfold, I can see exactly how I affect him, too. With anyone else, his mask would be plenty to guarantee anonymity. The expensive leather appears to be custom molded for his face, with only his mouth and eyes showing. If I didn’t already know it was him, I’d be hard pressed to recognize him.
Thankfully, this man has no idea how many times I’ve cataloged his face, his eyes, and especially that mouth. It’s almost unfair for a guy to have such beautiful lips. Every command out of them makes my skin flush hotter. And the way he watches me… I feel powerful. Desired. This isn’t the Jonas that kissed me so sweetly all those years ago. And this certainly isn’t the disinterested, distant Jonas I’ve become so used to in the years since.
This is someone completely different. This Jonas can’t take his eyes off of me. And there’s nothing sweet or polite about his gaze. It’s almost obscene, the way his heavy-lidded eyes roam my body. I feel like he’s planning what he’s going to do with every single inch of me.
I reach back, unhooking my bra. I try to calm my hands, to make them move purposefully, but I’m shaking as I drop it to the side. It’s like I’m hyper-aware of my body, feeling everything more keenly than I should. Each breath stretches my ribs, while my heart pounds away behind them. Cool air pricks at my skin, raising the fine hair on the backs of my arms and making my nipples tighten into aching points.
Everything inside of me is racing, but the world around me, Jonas included, seems to move at half speed, like the very air around us is heavy. I reach for the waistband of my panties, but freeze when I see Jonas shake his head.
“Leave them on. Turn around.”
Slowly, I turn my back to Jonas. I look straight ahead, facing the back wall, resisting the urge to peek at him. His palm presses into my lower back, guiding me to a padded leather A-frame.
Oh, fuck.
Is that a spanking bench? It looks more like a sawhorse, but it’s certainly not something you’d find in a hardware store. Gleaming silver hoops are riveted to the surface, and thick leather cuffs sit on the floor at all four corners. A shiver of nervous anticipation racks my body. I’ve watched enough porn to have a basic understanding of it, but it’s daunting as hell in real life.
Jonas doesn’t speak as he bends me over the narrow padded platform. The leather is soft against my skin, supporting me from my lower belly to between my breasts. He’s silent, but his hands skim my body, his communication entirely physical. He positions my arms with gentle nudges, and I comply as willingly as a rag doll. I watch as he lovingly wraps my wrists in the cuffs attached to the base of the frame, buckling them tight enough that there’s no escape.
Jonas bumps my legs with his knee, roughly forcing them apart. I can’t see what he’s doing, but he bends down somewhere behind me. Warm breath and calloused fingers tease my inner thighs as I hear chains clanking. Cuffs wrap around my ankles and pull tight, keeping me spread wide over the frame.
It isn’t until he stands and circles me, fingers grazing my skin, that I realize how little freedom Jonas has left me. I don’t have more than an inch of play on any of the restraints. He left just enough length so they wouldn’t dig into my skin. I can lift my head. My field of vision is narrow, but an ornately framed mirror hangs on the wall, giving me ample opportunity to watch Jonas. I should be nervous, but the butterflies in my stomach are all desire and excitement.
Jonas squats in front of me, our faces just inches apart. He pets me and holds my chin in his hand, supporting the weight of my head. From behind his mask, those stormy eyes hold mine as he pulls my hair over one shoulder; his movements so affectionate my heart aches.
“Honesty time, Kitten. How do you feel?”
I tug my hands and feet against the cuffs, squirming a little. A need, hot and heavy, churns in my lower belly.
“Nervous.” My voice comes out husky, breathless. “Exposed, and… turned on.”
Jonas smirks, and it makes the restless need swirl harder. He wraps his hand around my throat, his grip possessive as he leans in and kisses me. His tongue plunges between my lips and he groans.
He stands, rubbing his thumb over my lower lip. He takes his time, removing his suit coat and hanging it on a hook on the wall. Jonas positions himself where I can see him, but only if I crane my head sideways. He’s watching me with dark eyes, clearly in no hurry. He rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, movements deliberately slow. A ripple of excitement shoots through me. He wants me to see this. Jonas Flynn is about to get to work, and he’s making sure I know it.
It’s everything I can do not to moan out loud as he moves behind me, out of sight in the mirror. I hear his shoes on the floor and struggle to track his location by sound alone. There’s a gentle rustling, followed by a sharp whoosh, as if something vicious cut through the air. I tense but feel nothing for several interminable breaths.
Then, a hundred tiny caresses trail up my thighs and over my buttocks. They skim along my spine, soft as a whisper. Jonas circles me, and I catch a glimpse of soft leather tails hanging from the thick leather handle clutched in his hand. They whisper over my cuffed hands before he’s out of sight again. Then the tails land on my ass with a thud. I jump, expecting pain, even as another blow lands on my upper thighs.
The pain never comes. Not real pain, anyway. There’s a sharp awareness, sure. But this feels… amazing. The fringe of the whip whirls in his hand, sometimes hitting me, sometimes not. Every time it lands on my skin, I’m tossed around by a potent mixture of sensations. The tails land as individual ropes of heat that spread over my skin like an embrace, but the combined weight of them digs into my muscles, releasing long-held tension.
I close my eyes and listen to the swish-thud of the tails landing on my butt, my thighs, and my shoulders. The anticipation is nearly as good as the actual warmth that radiates from each fall. My core clenches with every strike, heat drenching my pussy until I can feel my panties sticking to me.
Oh, God… can he see that?
Of course he can. He has me spread so wide I bet they could see my wet panties from the International Space Station. I writhe against the leather bench. I can’t help it. I need pressure. Friction. Anything to ease the desperate ache between my legs.
A hand smacks my ass, and I scream, mostly out of surprise. He didn’t even hit me that hard, but the sharp crack over my sensitized skin does something to my brain. My mind goes blank as the pleasure washes over me.
Then Jonas is in front of me, my chin held firmly between his thumb and forefinger. He squints at me, mouth hard. “Did you just come without asking, Kitten?”
“Did I?” I mumble. I’m not actually sure. That didn’t feel like any orgasm I’ve ever had, but the dazed pleasure still clinging to my mind speaks for itself. I bite my lip and try to shrug. Jonas’ lips pull to the side, and I get the impression he’s trying to keep a straight face.
“I think you’re enjoying your punishment a little too much,” he says wryly. “Hold this.” He puts the wide handle of his whip in my mouth, pushing it so it pulls the corner of my lips back like a gag. I bite down, holding it in.
Jonas strokes my cheek and stares into my eyes. If it were anyone else, that level of eye contact would be unnerving. But with him? It’s intoxicating. I’m out of my mind with wanting him. I’d swear I was drunk if I’d had anything other than water all day.