Abruptly, he stopped, and she found herself trying to breathe through the pain, through the horrifying awareness of her need of him. He tossed the whip carelessly onto the table but then picked up more items. A small sob escaped as he turned back to her. He stood beside the table for a moment, lifting a water bottle to his mouth while he studied her as if she were one of the mannequins he’d practiced on.
“Looks gorgeous, baby. Your tits were made for the whip.”
A little shudder went through her body, but it didn’t stop her sex from clenching at his words, or the way his gaze slid over her so possessively. He put the water down and sauntered over to her.
“Need you to take a little more for me, angel,” he whispered. “I brought a couple of things to make it easier for you. Can you do that for me, Seychelle?”
She was so tired. The pain of that horrid whip had been excruciating, but her body was so desperate. How much longer could he go before he would have to take her? She could see the huge bulge at the front of his thin pants. She’d never seen his cock straining so much.
She moistened her lips and forced herself to really look at his face, at his eyes, to see beyond the cruelty of the sadist to the man who had taken on the rage of his fellow brethren for the last couple of months. She wanted to make certain they drained most of that away, if not all of it, so that reservoir was as empty as they could get it.
He wasn’t nearly done. She could see the rage still burning hot and wild beyond the brutality of this part of Savage that had been set free.
“I can do it.” The consent came out in a whisper. Her voice wouldn’t go above that. The knot of tears in her throat blocked sound.
His fist in her hair tilted her head back farther, and he kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle or loving kiss. It was possessive. Hard. He took his time removing the tears from her face before he dropped to a crouch between her spread thighs. Her heart jumped, accelerated. She felt his hot breath.
“Brothers gave me a few intriguing toys for my birthday. Knew you’d love them, so I laid them out to use. This little button was programmable. Preacher made certain I had enough oil that would heat up and make you feel good. I also had Mechanic program it to the beat of my music.”
He fit the button over her clit and secured it and then moved behind her. “I used that oil on this little toy as well. It’s also programmable. Pulses like crazy to the music, massages and pounds to the beat. You’re into music, baby, so I know you’re going to love this.”
Without warning, he poured oil between her cheeks and pressed something that felt far too big into the forbidden star there. She gasped, resisting. His hand came down hard on her left cheek. The pressure never let up, steady and very strong, sliding the toy in deep until it was seated. He’d used plugs before, but nothing that long or wide.
Savage walked back around to stand in front of her. “You have to stay very still. I’m going to form the bottom half of your outfit.” Seychelle looked dazed. Confused. On the brink of calling everything off, but not certain she would—or could—make herself do it.
Smirking, Savage pushed the thin material from his hips. Her gaze immediately jumped to his straining cock. He fisted the wide girth casually, knowing she was desperate, watching her strain toward him without realizing she was doing so. He caught up the third whip as he passed by the table and walked back to her, taking his time.
Standing close, he curled his fingers into her sweet, slick pussy, so hot now and greedy with need, she didn’t know if she was sobbing for his cock or from the pain of those wicked red talons on the whip. He licked up her neck and over her cheek, tasting her tears, reveling in each one of them. These were for him. All his. She gave them to him freely.
“Savage, please.” She pushed into his fingers, rocking her hips in desperation.
“We aren’t finished, baby. You have to ask me for more.” He trailed the handle of the whip over the curves of her breasts, those beautiful lines rising in red welts that showed his precise pattern, the one that looked as if he’d created a bralette on her body. “You want my cock, you earn it.”
He kissed his way down her tear-wet face to her chin, to her neck, his teeth nipping. Stinging. All the while his fist pumped his cock, his rough hand scraping along the scars. It felt so fucking good. His mouth wandered lower, kissing his way down her throat, to her collarbone and then the top of those sweet curves where the first of his beautiful bright red welts formed her bralette. His lips and tongue teased over the raised surface, the lines that formed a cage around her right breast. Those lines spread out from her erect nipple much like a spider’s web.