There was a tempo to it, Daniel had realised. A way to pace things, to keep it all in hand. The pain, the rest, the repositioning. The natural end to one whip’s usefulness, and the logical time to pick up a different toy. He was better organised tonight and determined not to accidentally deviate from his planned scene.

Mara’s ass and upper thighs were rosy, glowing from the flogger and vivid red in a few spots from the tawse, but not so bad he needed to stop yet. She was drifting in subspace, and probably able to take more pain now. Give that freshly whipped skin a few moments to recover, he knew, and it would be sensitive beyond belief.

The cane was slender, some translucent fibre rather than bamboo, and slightly whippy. He tested it on his palm awhile, figuring out how it would fly in the air, realising he would not need to use his wrist as much. A short, almost choppy, flat stroke.

First, more questions.

“What about tabletop games?”

“Uh…you mean like Monopoly, or RPGs? Or European-style? All of them are yes.”

“Nice. Who shot first?”

“Greedo! Just kidding, just kidding. Han, duh.”

The duh thing couldn’t be allowed to stand. Daniel brought the cane down across the crest of her rump. It sounded thuddier than he’d expected. Mara’s reaction, a shocked gasp, was very gratifying. He gave her a few seconds to let her decide whether to continue.

“Original series or Next Generation?”

She answered this one more promptly. “Both, but for different reasons.”

“Fair enough.”

Delia grumbled. “Picard forever. Also Seven of Nine forever.”

Mara lifted her face from the horse; tears streaked the cheek Daniel could see, but she didn’t sound upset when she spoke to Delia. “You are not one of those Voyager people?”

“No!” Delia stroked her dark hair, hastening to reassure her. “No, I just think Jeri Ryan is really hot. Just throwing it out there.”

“Everybody thinks she’s really hot.”

Daniel cleared his throat, getting the subs back on task. He didn’t really mind the conversation, though. He liked the apparent truth-serum effect of the whips. Mara had opened up some online, while they were playing, but he wanted to know more. Delia had wanted to know more, too. And asking her random things seemed to keep Mara from getting too trancy. Maybe it would let the scene draw out a while longer.

But after a few more questions and strokes of the cane, he was having trouble thinking up stuff to ask her. There was so much eye candy in the room he was really mostly proud of himself for not actively drooling. And Mara, he could tell all too plainly, was already so aroused. Her pert, rounded ass was moving in tiny circles between strokes, as she tried to rub against the nap of the time-softened leather bench. And her mouth kept making an O shape that drove him insane with lust.

Not that it was any better to watch Delia. Sweet merciful heavens, she looked like a kinky angel in that outfit. Or a porno bride. And the expression on her face, gentle and curious, as she bent down to kiss Mara… He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to fuck them, or rub them both all over his body in some way, or what. Mara’s ass was turning to red-on-pink stripes, and her lollipop lips were getting dry from panting. Time to move on, maybe. “You still with me, Mara?” “Yes, Master Daniel.” She didn’t sound all that with it, but at least she was coherent. He put the cane down and rounded the bench, running a hand over her hip before curling his fingers down the cleft of her ass, trailing them across heated skin until they reached her cunt. Then he had to have another stern Dom talk with himself to keep from tearing his pants off and burying himself inside her right then. Because she was soft, and smoothly hairless, and hotter than hell…and wet, so wet, and ready. He couldn’t resist pushing a finger inside her, then two, rocking them back and forth. The next voice in his head was the one reminding him that he was standing with his fingers buried in a woman’s pussy, a woman who was not his wife, and his wife was standing right there in the white porno-wedding outfit, and what the hell was he thinking? None of this was allowed. This was the type of thinking that had landed him in the counselor’s office. Delia was smiling her dreamy, turned-on smile. Watching his hand as if she wished she were in Mara’s place, or possibly in the place of his hand, but certainly not as though she were pissed off at him for putting it there. The Dom voice reminded him that he was in charge, and there were certain perks to being in charge, even if they came at the cost of torturing his already painfully hard, pussy-starved penis. So he smiled at Delia and pulled his fingers free to offer them to her. “Come and clean them off.” And she did, with great enthusiasm. “Does she taste good, Dee?” “Yes, Master.” “If you’re good, you’ll get another taste later.” “Thank you, Master. If that pleases you.” “I can’t really see how it wouldn’t.”


Don’t worry your escapades are safe with us.








Source the unicorn by Delphine Dryden

There’s a tempo to my sexiness!

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