Page 47

Billionaires in Paris Cynthia Dane 2022/8/3 13:56:27

Kathryn wanders to the bed not too far away. She pulls one of the big pillows to the center of the bed and lines up the flogger. With a quick flick of her wrist, the suede strings snap against the pillow. They all leave long, stringy dents that slowly fade.

She does it once more. Snap! Again. Snap! The flogger whistles in the air. The pillow relents beneath the impact. The careful movements of her body show years’ worth of practice. The look of determination on her face says she enjoys this more than I can understand.

I daresay she’s better with a flogger than I am.

When she’s done demonstrating what a pro she is, Kathryn saunters back to me, the flogger resting on her shoulder.

No man wants to admit to groveling. I wouldn’t be surprised if you tell me that I’m the first man you’ve ever heard, ever seen begging to be smacked by a flogger, let alone by a beautiful blonde who is often called the Ice Queen of our city. People think Kathryn’s a frigid bitch. That couldn’t be farther from the truth if it ran to the other side of the world. She’s one of the most sexual women I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. The way she both shuts you down and riles you up with one frosty look should be criminal – I should be in jail.

When your woman looks at you like that, you damn well beg for whatever she wants you to beg for. You’re happy to have her pay that attention to you. Even if it stings, even if it makes you feel things you’ve never felt before… well, isn’t that why you’re with her? To feel invigorated in brand new ways?

My cock is still so hard. I don’t dare touch it. I want her to touch it.

Kathryn never hits me hard. I could work up to it one day, like she did, but for my first time she’s as gentle as one can be without compromising the fantasy. I beg for each one. Sometimes my head pushes against the carpet, my fists turning white from the power surging through them, but my voice never falters. Neither does hers. Kathryn’s doing things I never thought she would do to me. Nor did I ever think I would want them. Can you see them? The way she kisses me, touches me, licks me. I’m hers to use and play with.

“Give me a number.” She’s right in my ear, her hand finally coming for my cock. Oh, fuck! That grip of hers almost destroys me. The sound I make is inhuman. I don’t know if that’s precum or good ol’ fashioned cum covering her fingers, but I’m ready. “That’s how many times I’m going to smack you. You’re going to come on the last one, so you better know how many you can handle. If you come too soon, we’re stopping. If you come too late, I’m going to suffocate you with my pussy until you understand your own limits again.”

My brain takes a few seconds to catch up. She’s been slowly stroking my cock this whole time, and it’s all I can think about. How close I am to climaxing, that is. Don’t disappoint her, I tell myself. Don’t disappoint the last woman in the world you want to disappoint.

“Five? You think you can last that long?”

“I’m counting on you, Ian. Don’t disappoint me.”

With one hand wrapped around my cock, the other brings the flogger down. I shake, ignoring the pain and focusing on how good she feels jerking my cock. Why the fuck did I pick such a high number!

I have counted five second intervals between each strike. This gives me time to acknowledge the sting and then focus on something else. As the need in my cock grows to overwhelming hell, she hits me again, and I release that strange sound I’ve never made before.

The fourth strike hits me. I’m biting my bottom lip until it bleeds to keep from coming. I’m so, so close. My cock is roaring with blood and seed, ready to be released. Everything is so hot down there that I wonder if I’m experiencing some kind of BDSM burn.

I picked the number five, and now I have to deliver. On the fifth strike, I can come.

“You want me to do it?” Kathryn coos, delaying my release. “You want me to jerk your cock until it comes all over you?”

I’m not sure if what I say is English or not, but it conveys my meaning.

“Tell me you want it!”

All of Paris can hear me cry out how much I want some American woman to flog my ass and choke my cock. It’s nothing they’ve never heard before!

Everything lets go. My mind, my body, and my heart are leaving this world and going elsewhere. The painful relief I experience is not like anything I’ve endured before. It’s pleasurable, yes, but it’s also so much more than that. It hurts. It stings. It relieves the tension bursting in my body. I go from the tension passing through my cock to my seed hitting my abdomen, hot and wet. Kathryn’s there, talking dirty, telling me what a good boy I am while her hand milks me dry. Thank goodness, because I don’t dare touch myself. She knows how to control this moment so I don’t get hurt and enjoy it as much as possible.