Noah
Cold slid down my throat–bone and sketched a line over my chest
before my brain could form a thought. I jerked in the cuffs, leather
biting, breath snagging on the edge of a sound I didn’t make.
3
“Is an ice cube something to fear, Noah?” Aiden’s voice came from
nowhere and everywhere at once.
“No, Sir.” My throat was dry. “I just… didn’t know you were here. Why
would you not come back sooner?”
“Why would you not call for me sooner?”
I bit back the first dozen answers. Of course that’s the lesson–trust
isn’t silence, it’s reaching. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
The cube traced slow circles over my chest, dipped to my stomach,
then climbed back and parked around my nipple until it pinched tight
from the cold. I sucked in air through my teeth. Under the blindfold
everything felt louder–my breathing, the thud of the bass somewhere
in the room, the little shift in air that said he’d moved even when he
didn’t touch me. I was uneasy–dark room, tight cuffs, everything
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close–but I was also hyped as hell wondering what was next.
Teasing? Spanking? His hand? Honestly, at that point even a few
sharp hits sounded good if it meant he’d get on with it.
The cold vanished. No footsteps, no clink, just that bass line and me
trying not to squirm. Then something brushed my stomach–soft, lots
of thin strips at once, like a leather mop barely touching down. It slid
off my thigh and disappeared. When it came back, the tap had snap to
- it. Not pain. Just a jolt that woke my nerves and made me brace for
the next one. He did the same on the other thigh. Heat crawled in
right under the nerves.
He kept moving, matching the beat. Strands dragged over my chest,
skimmed the ribs, fell along my calves. First instinct was to flinch,
but it changed fast–my body started leaning toward it. When the
leather flicked my nipple and tightened it until the sting turned into
something better, I made a sound I didn’t mean to make. The tails
ghosted over my cock and a noise ripped out of me–need, hunger,
full–on begging without the word.
“You see, boy, this isn’t just for punishment,” he said, calm like he
could read a grocery list while doing this. “In the right hands it
teaches pleasure.”
“Yes, Sir.” Came out too fast. Didn’t care.
The light flogger stopped. I heard a heavier one come off a hook-
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different weight, different swish. He didn’t hit right away; he just let
me sit in it. My heartbeat got stupid.
“This one you know,” he said. “Different purpose tonight. Do you
want it?”
Last time that thing had lit my back on fire. I still didn’t understand
how it could be anything but a weapon. But he was steady, and I
trusted that. “Yes, Sir.”
The swish, a half second of quiet, then–impact. Smacked across my
upper chest hard enough to jolt me. Solid. Controlled. Not the brutal
pace I remembered. The shock tore through me and left everything
buzzing like I’d been plugged in.
“Breathe,” he said. “I will not hurt you.”
I dragged air into my lungs and made myself let it happen. He fell
into a rhythm with the music–one strike, wait, another a little lower,
then one angled so the tails wrapped and pulled heat into the spots
he’d already hit. My body stopped bracing and started waiting for it,
Want came in waves.
Metal clicked. A second later something bit my nipple and held.
Tight, sharp. I hissed and shifted against the cuffs. The second clamp
went on, and I swore under my breath until the burn leveled out into
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a steady tug.
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I am on edge of my seat
7 days ago
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
