Mile High (Up In The Air #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I gave a little nod, since I couldn’t speak. I felt him move away. He was gone for long minutes, and I felt bereft. I couldn’t move or speak, because he’d ordered me not to, so only my mind was active. It was the most torturous part of all, as I imagined what he would do to me, what he was planning, and all I could do was wait.

Soft music began to play, the notes of a dark song drifting through the room. It had an ominous tune.

I didn’t even sense him move but just suddenly felt something soft brush across the skin of my back. A feather, I realized, as he trailed it down my spine. He removed it, but it was instantly replaced by something else, something rougher, with thin strands that caught at my skin as he stroked it where the feather had been. The feather came back, stroking along my butt and down my thighs.

I shivered as he softly stroked it over the back of my knee and down to my foot. He moved the feather back up my body via the other leg. It covered every inch of the back of my body before he pulled back.

The rougher object began to move across my skin, mirroring the feathers trail exactly. Where the feather had made me shiver all over, the rougher trail made me writhe, fighting to keep from making noise.

The rough little tails were absent, and the feather was back, brushing just below my shoulder blades. It lingered there, slowly whispering over that skin oh so carefully. The feather pulled away and the instant it left my skin he struck, flogging me with those rough little tails viciously.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my back arching, spine bowing.

He struck again and again, only striking those tender spots that the feather had paid such special attention to. My heart was trying to pound out of my chest, and tears ran down my cheeks silently but freely before he stopped.

I felt him unclip the tiny slip at my waist, felt it drop to the floor, the feather lightly caressing my naked ass. I wondered if he was timing the feather contact to the timing of the flogging. It seemed that way to me, and it was a torturous realization, because he lingered for the longest time on my rear, that soft feather relentless. Of the two touches, I thought the feather was the cruelest.

The feather’s absence was immediately replaced by the sharp bite of the tails. It went on and on, striking again and again, and I began to move with the strikes, circling my hips, the pain taking my mind to a little fuzzy place, and I thought I would come if he so much as touched my sex.

I heard his ragged breaths when he replaced the tails with the feather on my thighs. When the feather touched my inner thigh, a scant breath from my sex, I nearly came. I didn’t know if I could stop myself when the tiny whips replaced that cruel feather. I wondered, very briefly, if I would be punished for that.

My breaths were so ragged that I worried I would be punished for the noise when the tails replaced the feather, slapping at my sensitive thighs relentlessly.

My back bowed, my feet pushing on my toes as the whips hit that spot on my groin, and I came, gyrating on my chain and biting on my bloody lip. At least I had kept silent, if you didn’t count my loud panting breaths.

“F*ck,” James panted, and that was all. He replaced the little whips with a feather on my calves. This was a shorter touch, and a shorter flogging.

He seemed to finish with my back, stepping away. I felt him studying me for impossibly long minutes.

My release had been involuntary, and done very little to ease the ache. My pulse still beat in time to the blood pounding in my veins and every inch of me wanted him inside of me, against me, touching me. My hips made little circling thrusts as he watched me.

Finally, I felt him moving to the front of my body. He studied my front for nearly as long as he had my back.

Abruptly, he released my breasts from the mean little clamps. I took deep breaths, counting to ten, trying to keep the noises in my throat. He began to move the feather along my front, starting with my cheek. He circled my lips with the feather.

He stopped abruptly, walking away. I wanted to scream at his abrupt absence, but he returned almost instantly, placing some type of strap against my mouth.

“Bite down on this if you need to,” he ordered. “Don’t bite your lip anymore. You’ll need stitches if you keep that up.” I bit it. It was an instant relief to have something firm to bite down on.

He started in on me with the feather again, covering the front of my body with those soft caresses. He mirrored the movement with the tiny whips. The pattern was already familiar, but still I agonized over what he would do next. The feather was back again, and I knew what to expect when the whips had a turn, every touch telling me sadistically just where and for how long I would get the attention of those mean little tails.

He softly caressed my upper thighs first, using his foot to part my legs, snaking that little feather in dangerously close to my wet core. I felt the feather drag a little through the moisture there, and heard James suck in a gasp. But there was still no pause as he pulled back the feather and struck with the whip in almost the same motion, as though they were two sides of the same object. I wondered, rather distantly, if they were.

He struck my thighs again and again, stopping abruptly, but I knew that if I had been counting, it would have timed the same as the feather.

My head fell back, and I sucked in harsh breaths when the light touch made contact with my breasts. He caressed the fleshy globes for long moments, thankfully only briefly teasing at my tortured nipples. When he began to whip me there, I shuddered, my body on the brink of release when he stopped.

He stared at me for the longest time, until I heard him unzip his pants.

I wanted to sob in relief just at the sound.

He moved to my back. “That’s enough of a lesson and a punishment, I think,” he said, his voice rough and affected. Just how I wanted it.

His smooth chest moved against my back as he leaned into me from behind. “Grip the chains more tightly,” he told me, his hard hands settling on my hips.

I obeyed eagerly.

“Arch your back. More.”

I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance. It poised there for long moments, quivering against me. He entered me, but not how I wanted, not with a hard thrust, as I was wishing for. He worked his large length inside of me, inch by thick inch, working into my tight wet sheath agonizingly slowly. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg.


His mouth moved to my ear. “Now you may beg me,” he whispered, as though reading my mind.

I did beg, sobbing as I did so, the strap falling from my mouth, his permission acting as a floodgate. I begged with heartfelt feeling. He pulled out of me slowly when I’d finished. His mouth moved to the spot between my neck and shoulder, right on the tendon, that perfect sensitive spot, and he bit down savagely at the same moment that he plunged into me, hammering into me with the hardest, fastest thrust. It was a wonderful, brutal angle, my hips held immobile in his hands. I had no way to move with him or away from him, even my toes lifted slightly off the floor.

He bottomed out in me, reaching the end of me with a vicious twist of his hips.

He was making this perfect little noise low in his throat, deep but almost helpless, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening every time he slammed into the end of me. The third time he made that noise, I came, screaming.

He didn’t stop, still pounding , one hand snaking from my hip and up over my tortured breast. It hurt, my skin raw, but that pain seemed to jolt directly from my breast to deep inside my sex, where his stiff cock still worked furiously.

The second release caught me like that, a mix of pleasure and pain, jolting through the parts of my body that he played like an instrument. I was perfectly tuned, but only to his expert touch.

His thrusts stuttered for a moment, the hand at my hip sliding forward from my hip and his finger began to circle my *. He resumed his pace, the arm now anchored over me from waist to pelvis and his other hand still a vise on my breast. His hardness rocked into me with that furious pace.

He slammed, slammed, slammed, his breathing harsh and ragged enough that I could hear it over my own uncontrollable mewling.

“Come,” he ordered roughly.

I shuddered as the waves of pleasure took me for a third time. He allowed himself to come with me that time, and I felt him shuddering and pouring inside of me, making those sounds I loved deep in his throat.

His hard arms wrapped around my waist, his cheek touching the top of my head.

Was the tender lover back? I wanted that, had never wanted it more. I needed some reassurance that this coldness that had overtaken him wasn’t permanent. Only a night of it and I felt emotionally bereft.

But he released me quickly, pulling out of me, and I heard the chains clanking together as my arms went a little slack. It put me more solidly onto my feet, but my knees gave way almost instantly. The cuffs caught me right away, since he’d only lowered me a few inches.

“Get your balance back. Get some weight onto your feet,” James ordered, lowering the chain a few more inches.

I put more weight on my feet, catching my balance slowly, shifting from foot to foot until I felt like I could stand without aid. It took awhile.

He unwound the chains above me until I was taking all of my weight. He unlatched my cuffed hands. I didn’t have to hold my own weight for more than a split second before he swept me off my feet, cradling me like a child as he carried me across the room.

I stroked my cheek along his bare, sweaty chest. He felt divine. He smelled divine.

He laid me down on a firmly cushioned surface. It felt like being on an examination table at the doctors office. I hadn’t seen anything like it the last time I’d been in his playground, but I’d only been there once before, and I’d been more than a little distracted at the time He drew my cuffed hands above my head, fastening them there. I tested the restraint. I didn’t even have an inch of slack. He fastened my feet to the bottom of the table, parted slightly. He used soft straps of some kind on each of my ankles, though I couldn’t have said what they were. I was still blindfolded, and it wasn’t anything he’d ever used on me before. I tested those restraints as well. There was no give at all. He definitely couldn’t f*ck me in this position. My legs wouldn’t part far enough with the way I was bound.

I writhed a little at that realization, suddenly afraid of what he did plan to do.

He slapped the front of my thigh, hard. “Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice all dominance, with no hint of affection.

My tender lover was still missing. I didn’t think there was anything that I wouldn’t endure to get him back.