“You think you didn’t enjoy it… but your body bent to the whip. Listen to what it’s telling you. Let it be your master.” Q sucked in a breath, finger pulsing inside before withdrawing. He brought his hand to my mouth. “You’re wet. So wet. Suck my finger, Tess.”

I opened, welcoming. My nose was stuffy from crying and I couldn’t get enough breath, but his taste of citrus mixed with me and the pain he caused branded with lust.

I rocked into his erection, silently pleading.

He stepped away, leaving me hanging like the captive I was. Q was wrong when he said being owned by him wasn’t romantic or sexy or fun. I’d never felt this way. This uninhibited. This free.

The world went black as Q fixed a blindfold over my eyes, tying it securely. Fingers grazed my neck, sending goosebumps and shivers skimming over my nakedness. I grew too hot thanks to the fire and perspiration dotted my upper lip.

“I’m going to take control of you now, Tess.”

I nodded erratically, heart beating wildly out of control.

Q grabbed my breast with one hand. Something sharp pinched on my nipple. I wished I could see what it was. Cupping my other breast, the weight of whatever he clamped dangled with an uncomfortable sensation.

Q murmured, “J'adore tes seins.” I love your tits.

The same pinching weight attached to my other nipple, sending shooting stars of need through an invisible link to my core.

I pulsed in time to blood throbbing in my ni**les and whip marks. I whimpered as pain blossomed as more blood rushed.

Q grabbed the back of my neck, smothering my mouth with his. His tongue wrangled mine into yielding, our breaths mingled.

I moaned, becoming drunk on the taste of him.

Breathing hard, he stopped kissing me, and something soft and leathery danced along my stomach. I clenched, trying to figure out what it was. I hated the blindfold—the lack of eyesight. It made everything so much more aware, anxious, and sensitive.

Q sucked in a breath. “Every welt I give you makes me so f**king hard.”

I groaned as leather bit into my stomach, right on my pubis. I tried to double over but restraints kept me arched—available for whatever torture he planned.

“You want to know how dark I’ll go? I want blood. I want you sobbing at my feet. I want you in f**king tatters. Does that scare you?”

Another strike, this time just below my br**sts. My rib injury flared with pain, and the nipple clamps jiggled as I twisted, trying to run. I couldn’t deny the tension of being completely at his mercy made my pu**y throb, but I couldn’t understand why. Why did being a submissive turn me on? Why did inflicting pain turn Q on?

My voice was barely audible. “Yes, it scares me. Deliciously terrifies.” My honesty shocked both of us. Breathing hard, I asked, “Why do you want to hurt me, maître?”

Q lashed out, slapping my cheek with a gentle palm. It didn’t hurt, but tears oozed beneath my blind fold. “I revoke your permission to speak.”

I hung my head, chastised. Guess, I wouldn’t know.

Q paced in a circle around me, dragging the flogger over my skin. “It’s not about hurting you, sweet Tess. It’s about branding you. Your skin is pure as snow, and I get to mark it.” He flogged my ass again. It caught a whip mark and blazed with agony. “It’s the wrongness, the rightness, I need your pain.” He whispered in my ear, “I’m invincible when I hurt you.”

Images of dark terror filled me. Every muscle in my body screamed to run. The safe word danced on my tongue. I’m stronger than this. I invited this. I won’t say it… not yet.

Q hit me particularly hard. It made the bee sting seem like a giant wasp, but I didn’t make a sound.

He groaned, tracing a finger over the new injury. “So f**king perfect.”

I breathed shallowly, wanting to see. Needing to see.

“You deserve a reward, Tess,” he said it so sweetly, as if I was a good girl and earned a lollipop. But his domination made me very aware I wouldn’t be getting an ice-cream.

The pain once again morphed to tender hooks of passion, and I welcomed the burn. Welcomed the marks Q branded.

He ripped the blindfold off, kissing me, holding my hair so I couldn’t move away as he f**ked my mouth with a tongue that wouldn’t let me breathe.

I gasped and choked, but the moment he left, I wanted more. I wanted to die with him kissing me.

With glinting pale eyes, Q folded to his knees in front of me. “Put your legs over my shoulders,” he demanded.

I blinked. “My legs on your shoulders?” I flushed with embarrassment at the thought of him so close to my pu**y—spread and exposed. I was so wet it trickled down my thigh. I shook my head, unable to be so vulnerable.

Q reached and slapped my ass. His hand connected with whip marks; I yelped.

“Do as I command, Tess.” He stressed my name and it did exactly as he wanted. It reminded he owned me, therefore I had no choice.

Hesitantly, I cocked one leg, placing it on his shoulder. His eyes dropped to my centre, face darkening with need. Self-consciousness painted my cheeks. When my other leg stayed firmly planted on the ground, he glared. “You have two legs. Put them on my shoulders.” His voice rasped, chest working hard.

His passion granted a burst of feminine courage. Jumping, I shifted my weight to the cuffs and I straddled Q’s shoulders—suspended, completely at his mercy. Arms came up to hold my ass, biceps clenching. He didn’t tear his gaze away from my pu**y. “You’re so f**king beautiful.” He kissed my inner thigh in a fleeting move, breath hot. “Here’s your reward for letting me hurt you.” His voice deepened to brimstone and my head snapped back as his mouth latched onto my clit.

My legs spread on his shoulders gave full access, and he took advantage.

His tongue wasn’t shy, swirling around my clit, licking, sucking. Plunging into my wetness, tongue-fucking as if possessed.

It was too much. Too intense. I moaned and whimpered and struggled and wriggled. Little stars shot and fizzled and tormented with every flick of his tongue, every suck of his mouth.

He pressed his tongue so far inside I cried out, wishing it was his c**k buried deep. “Please, master…more…” My body was beyond ready to be claimed, bruised, reawakened into passionate pleasure.

The whip marks heated unbearably, my skin rivered with sweat from the fire, and ni**les screamed for relief. I rocked my h*ps into Q, forcing his tongue deeper, demanding him to be rougher.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, fingers digging into my h*ps as he dragged me closer. His entire face between my legs. He growled as he bit my clit. Not a simple nip—but a full savage bite.

I screamed as my pu**y contracted, thrumming with its own heartbeat. I thrashed, trying to get closer, trying to get away. I want more. I can’t handle more.

My mind broke completely, ruled by the need to come. “Fuck me, Q. Fuck me. I can’t… I can’t stand it.”

He pushed my thighs, and I melted off him. He stood lightning quick as I swung from the ceiling, trembling. My head lolled, and my eyes were too heavy to keep open. I wanted to scissor my legs to find some relief from the torture. Q turned me from rational woman into a craving addict who needed a fix. I needed his cock. I needed my master.

Q captured my jaw; I opened unwilling eyes. “You can’t stand it. Can you?” His sexy five o’ clock shadow glistened from eating me out. I swung forward, wanting to lick him, to clean him. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking him. I wanted to bite his c**k just like he'd bitten me. I wanted it so much, I’d explode if I didn’t get it.

I tried to make sentences form. “I can’t stand the thought of not having you f**k me.”

His eyes snapped closed before he regained control, murmuring, “You’ve submitted completely, and you have no idea what that does to me.”

I had an idea. The same insane, mind-crippling feeling he did to me. If I wasn’t restrained, I’d pounce on him and f**k him till the tingly, urgent, consuming need disappeared. The only problem was, I didn’t think it would ever disappear. And I didn’t want it to.

“Say it again, Tess.” Q let me go, unbuttoning his blazer.

I breathed hard, panting as he ripped the jacket off, dropping it on the floor.

“Fuck me, master. I can’t stand not having you.”

He groaned, kicking off his shoes as he undid his tie. An evil glint entered his eyes. He slid the cream tie in his fingertips, looking at it then back to me.

My heart lurched as he advanced. “Open.”

I shook my head. “No. I won’t be able to breathe.”

“You’ll breathe around it. You can bite down.”

I clamped my mouth, moaning as he forced the tie between my lips, tying it. Once secured, he kissed my gagged mouth, running the tip of his tongue along my bottom lip. “You look incroyable gagged and bound, esclave. I’ll suffer the embarrassment of coming in my trousers every time I think of tonight.”

Stepping back, he stripped. Not bothering to undo buttons, he tore his shirt open. Pings of plastic sounded as buttons flew wild.

My mouth dried, taking in his perfection. His smooth chest, cut with perfect muscles. Sparrows fluttered, inked in blacks and browns, seeming alive with their feathered detail. He undid his belt, then his fly, and stepped from his trousers.

Standing proud with only black boxer-briefs remaining, Q fondled his thick erection while staring. Eyes zeroed in on my nipple clamped br**sts. “Your flesh is so swollen, Tessie.”

I jerked. Tessie. Brax’s nickname for me. Guilt washed over me like a tsunami and I coughed with pain. I betrayed Brax in the worst possible way. I was a disloyal bitch.

Q prowled close, looping fingers though the gag. “What did I say? Why do you hurt?”

I looked down, trying hard to push Brax away. I shouldn’t care, but I did. It was mistake to ask Q to call me by my name. Tess might love the sadistic erotic games with Q, but Tessie… she belonged to a simpler past.

Our eyes locked, and Q seemed to understand. “You don’t like it when I call you that.”

I wished I felt differently but a tear rolled, and I nodded.

He licked the droplet. “I don’t care for Tessie either. You’re mine. My Tess.”

My eyes glazed and I swooned into him. Guilt evaporated and my lust returned a thousand fold. I came to life under his stare.

And he knew it. He pulled his c**k free, wrapping fingers around the thick girth, stroking hard. “Do you like it when I call you that? Mine? All f**king mine.”

I shook my head, just to be troublesome. I couldn’t look away from Q stroking himself. I arched my back, trying to find relief by rubbing tortured ni**les on his chest.

He shuddered, pumping his cock. Reaching with his other hand, he speared two fingers inside, stealing my wetness to smear over the tip, using my lubricant as his own.

I groaned and my body unravelled. My pu**y clutched nothing, needing him inside. Nothing else mattered in the world but having him. I wanted to scream at him to f**k me, but the bloody gag turned my words to moans.

He pressed his c**k against my stomach, hitting me with it. I moaned and thrashed, trying to get closer.

“Put your legs around my hips.” Q held out his arms, ready to catch me.

Finally. Yes. Yes.

I jumped, spreading my legs at the same time, using the binds to hoist myself. I fitted snug against him. His hotness against my wetness. His throbbing c**k so close, it made me insane.

His eyes flashed as I rocked, smearing sensual liquid all over his c**k and balls. He groaned as I thrust unashamedly, providing much needed friction. I could come like this. Humping my master like a dog in heat.

Reaching between us, he pushed me back. Guiding his cock, he angled to meet my entrance.

In one fast move, with hands on my hips, he pulled me onto him. Impaling me completely. His length hit the top of my womb, bruising, stretching. The invasion turned my mind to mush. I went rigid, moaning like the whore I was.

Q’s face darkened with savage lust as he thrust once, fingers stabbing into flesh. “Fuck, my c**k belongs in you.” With one hand, he slapped my breast, activating the clamp to squeeze, sending hurt and spasms of eager dampness between my legs. I wouldn’t last long. Shit, I was so close, I rippled with release already. An orgasm teetered on a knife-edge—sharp and deadly.

He rolled his hips, meticulously slowly, dragging every ridge of him along every ridge of me. I wanted to scream. I didn’t want slow. I wanted a rampage.

“Raise your eyes,” Q ordered.

I guided super heavy eyes from watching his c**k f**king me, locking with his. Pale jade fire blazed with demons he kept locked away. They flittered ghostlike, swarming, urging him to lose control.

He growled and thrust once.

Twice.

Three times with ecstasy.

I tossed my head, chewing on the gag, needing to moan, to vocalize just how much he violated me—how much further I wanted him to go.

He bucked again, grinding his teeth. “I hate you for making me break my vow.” His face twisted with self-loathing and black delight. “Ce que tu me fait?” What are you doing to me?

Before I could answer, Q lost all control. Baring his teeth, he dropped the barrier to his demons, pounding into me. There was no rocking, or gentle lovemaking. He pistoned h*ps into mine, grunting, sweating, a crazed look in his eye. His manicured nails raked my ass, digging deep like rabid claws, inflicting pain in other ways.

The gag barricaded my screams. I bounced in his arms, br**sts jiggling with every thrust. The room erupted with the sounds of heavy breathing and slapping sweaty skin. The air temperature was too hot. Q was too much. My body couldn’t handle the sensory overload.