“It’s a security measure. We’re making sure our clients aren’t carrying hidden weapons.”
“Very good,” Kingsley said. “You can frisk me if you like.”
“I would, but you’d enjoy that too much,” Irina teased.
When Blaise was naked but for her stockings, he took her wrists in his right hand and raised them, presenting her to Irina like a slave for inspection. He was taller than Blaise by half a foot, and she had to stretch to hold the position.
“Beautiful.” Irina placed a hand on Blaise’s chest. The Mistress caressed her breasts gently, carefully—but only at first. She pinched Blaise’s right nipple then—pinched hard—and Blaise gasped. “Turn her.”
Kingsley turned Blaise to face him so that Mistress Irina could see her back. At his command, Blaise hadn’t done kink with anyone in the past week. He wanted her body to be a clean canvas for Irina’s first session.
“Very nice,” Irina said. “Beautiful skin. It will look better when I’m done with it. Put the cuffs on her.”
Irina held out a set of leather cuffs. Kingsley lowered Blaise’s arms and cuffed her wrists and ankles.
“What is the rule with couples?” Kingsley asked Irina as he handed Blaise over to her.
“The couple may touch each other as much as they want,” Irina said. “They can have sex during the session.”
“And you?”
“Dominatrixes don’t have sex with their clients,” Irina said, smiling. “Prostitution is illegal. S and M isn’t.”
“Bon,” Kingsley said. “But feel free to give Blaise an orgasm if you like. If she earns it.”
“I’ll earn it, monsieur,” Blaise said, and Kingsley slapped her hard on the bottom for speaking out of turn.
Irina put Blaise on the X-shaped cross, face to the wood.
“What’s your safe word, Blaise?” Kingsley said.
“Casablanca.”
Safe word established, Irina took a deerskin f logger off the wall. Good size. Good weight. Good heft. It would hurt like fuck, just the way Blaise liked.
“Start slow.” He whispered the reminder.
He watched Irina take a steadying breath. She moved her feet into position, gripped the f logger by the tips of the tails and raised it over her head. Kingsley gave her a nod. And then Irina smiled, a wide, deep, dark sexy smile. She could play aloof all she wanted, but he could tell she was enjoying this scene as much or more than Blaise would. A true sadist— he did know how to spot one. Irina let the f logger go, and it struck Blaise in the center of her back. She raised it, let it go again—another center strike. For the next few minutes she dusted Blaise with the f logger, hitting her again and again— not too hard, not too light. Blaise’s skin turned from creamy white to blazing red. She traded the deerskin for eel skin— a smaller, more vicious f logger. Blaise gasped and f linched as dozens of tiny welts raised on her back. The little f logger struck far more sharply, and soon it looked as if a dozen hands had clawed at Blaise’s back with cruel fingernails.
As Irina rotated through four different types of f loggers, he watched her work. She was sure-handed and dexterous. It was all too easy to aim wrong and hit a bound submissive in the back of the head. But Irina never missed her mark, and soon Blaise sagged in her bonds, panting from the pain and the arousal the pain inspired in her. Kingsley called a halt to it. He could see Blaise was nearing her limit.
“Did you enjoy your beating?” he whispered in her ear as he ran a hand over her burning skin.
“I did,” she said, smiling. Her face was f lushed with triumph. Blaise always looked her most beautiful after a beating.
“Do you think you earned an orgasm?” he asked her.