So close.
It stopped. The wheel was gone. No, no, no!
The table shook slightly, and then her legs were spread wide. She felt Sir move between them. Without warning, the wheel returned.
Right.
Over.
Her.
Pussy.
Lips.
Tiffany screamed. Her body shook with pain. With pleasure. With need. She begged Sir to let her come, not knowing if he could hear her. She could barely hear herself, between her own heavy breathing, echoing inside her head, and the headphones.
Once again, the spikes disappeared. Panting, Tiffany waited for whatever was coming next. She hoped it was something that would send her over the edge.
Tap. Something hit the inside of her thigh. Tap. It struck again, harder and higher on her leg.
A crop.
The leather tongue landed again.
Harder.
Closer to her pussy.
Again.
When she realized Sir’s intent, Tiffany tried to close her legs, but her attempt was futile. Strapped to the table, she was helpless. Her only escape was her safeword. Or to let Sir continue and make her come.
The crop hit her pussy. Hard, but not hard enough. No. She knew where he had to hit her to make her scream with the orgasm that’d been building and was now waiting, just beyond her reach. A little higher. That one spot.
Her toes curled.
She squeezed her eyes shut under the blindfold.
Her fists clenched.
She threw her head back and held her breath.
Thwack!
Tiffany screamed as she came in waves. Her body trembled out of control. Her mind spun and raced down a tunnel of flashing lights at warp speed. Her thighs were drenched with the juices squirting from her slit. Her lungs heaved for oxygen.
Slowly, she floated downward, and her muscles sagged with relief. The last thing she imagined before she fainted was Sir placing a sweet kiss on her lips.
One-hundred-and-seventy-nine miles out of Vegas, and there were another two-thousand-five-hundred miles between them and Master Key, Florida—give or take a few. The entire trip should take them five days, driving eight hours per day, as long as there weren’t any major traffic jams to delay them. Cordell had asked a mechanic friend to check out his truck the other day, and it was in tip-top shape for the cross-country journey.
In the back seat, Eastwood had finally calmed down in his carrier. Cordell had taken him for rides many times since he’d been a kitten, so he was used to it. There was enough room in the kennel for the cat to move around, but when they made the occasional pit stop, Cordell would have to let him out of it, so he could use the litter box and have some water. He wouldn’t be fed until they got to the pet friendly hotels they were staying in along the way, so he wouldn’t get car sickness and puke all over the place.
He glanced over at Tiffany. Damn, she was so sexy, wearing a cute pair of navy-blue shorts and a white, V-neck shirt that didn’t show enough of her cleavage, in his opinion. The bare skin of her legs had him itching to pull over and yank her into his lap, straddling him. Her white canvas shoes had been kicked off within the first five minutes of their trip, showing him the new, hot-pink nail polish, she’d put on her toes. She had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it would go, with her legs spread out in front of her, resting her feet on a pillow that was usually under her small computer desk. For the past half hour or so, she’d been reading a book on her Kindle about long ago shipwrecks in the Florida Keys. Shortly after she’d moved into the cottage behind his house, he’d learned his little submissive loved history, and researching it was one of her favorite things to do. According to her, she’d seen practically every episode of Mysteries at the Museum, and, often, they’d watch the History Channel and Travel Channel together while relaxing after dinner.
At first, he’d been surprised at how different evenings felt with Tiffany once she’d settled in and become more comfortable around him. He’d never had a sense of domesticity with any of the other subs he’d helped before her, despite having had two slaves stay in one of his spare bedrooms throughout their separate rehab stints with him. During those times, a friend of his from the LVPD had been renting the cottage. And, while not in the lifestyle, Matt knew enough about it not to have been freaked out by Cordell’s Master/slave or Dom/sub relationships he’d witnessed on occasion.
Tiffany, however, was different, and Cordell found himself saying that a lot when comparing her reconditioning to those of the other slaves or subs he’d helped over the years. Heck, none of the women he’d dated could hold a candle to her.
His mind shifted.
Hmm. Wax-play. That was something they hadn’t done in a while. It would have to wait until they were at Master Key Resort though. The last time he’d made Tiffany come with a dollop of very warm wax on her clit, she’d screamed so loudly with her release she’d been hoarse for hours afterward.
And, just like that, he was hard from his dirty thoughts about the pretty sub next to him. Grabbing the cold bottle of water Tiffany had placed in the cup holder for him, he opened it and took a sip. It didn’t help much for getting his cock under control, and he almost considered putting the bottle between his legs. Instead, he counted down from one hundred, then cleared his throat. “How’s the book?”
She glanced at him. “It’s so interesting. Did you know that a World War II German U-boat was sunk about seventy miles west of Key West?”
“Seriously?”
“Really!” Her eyes lit up with excitement, something he enjoyed seeing, and he held back a chuckle of amusement as she grew more animated with her hands as she continued. “Well, it didn’t belong to the Germans then. The United States took possession of it after the war and then the Navy overhauled it and put it to use.” Using her finger to keep her place on the Kindle’s screen, she paraphrased what she saw there. “They studied the design and workings of it too. President Truman visited it when it was stationed in the Keys and was onboard during a dive. Then, in October of 1951, the Chief of Naval Operations ordered it sunk, so they did it during rocket tests from a destroyer.”
“Wow. Is it one of the wrecks that’s good for diving?” He’d been a SCUBA diver for years, with most of his excursions being while vacationing on various islands in the Caribbean and Mexico. He’d gotten certified through the police department. While there weren’t any huge lakes in Las Vegas proper, there were some smaller ones and ponds that were deep enough that divers were occasionally needed for recovering bodies or evidence. LVPD also trained with officers from other local police departments and assisted them whenever experienced law enforcement divers were needed for a larger body of water, such as Lake Las Vegas in Henderson.
“Let me see. Uh . . . not really. It says attempting to reach U-2513 should only be done by those experienced in decompression diving due to its depth and remote location.”
He liked how relaxed she seemed to be, which was happening more often lately. It was like getting a glimpse of the woman she’d probably been before she’d met that asshole. “Yeah, I’ll pass on that one, although, it does sound very cool. Have you ever been SCUBA diving, pet?”
“No, Sir. I’ve always wanted to, but there aren’t many opportunities to learn in Vegas.”
The wistfulness in her voice caught him off guard. It wasn’t often Tiffany expressed a genuine interest in something. The more time they spent together, the more she was emerging from that shell she’d been hiding in since that bastard had beaten her spirit. “I’m sure there are at least a few certification schools in the Keys. I’d love to take you to some of those wrecks you’re reading about. Would you like to learn to dive? My treat.”