Little Red Riding Crop

“Yes, I suppose you could.”

“Call me ‘Sir’ if you want to see The Dame,” he ordered, pressing closer.

“So...” Nora stopped and took a breath, “what are our rules here...Sir?”

“No rules.”

“No rules? Not even...”

Brad grinned at her with such hunger Nora wasn’t sure if he planned to beat her or eat her.

“I’ll take that as a ‘not even...’” Nora said. She took a long breath in and slowly let it out through her teeth. They didn’t need to spell it out. No rules meant no rules. And the one rule of professional Dominants? No sex with the clients. But she wasn’t a client. She was a Dominatrix, a Dominatrix who really needed to get laid.

A month off.

No Kingsley.

No work.

Europe.

“Fine. Done. One hour. No rules. I’m yours.”

Brad only stared at her with his lips a thin hard line. He raised his eyebrow. Once more Nora sighed.

“I’m yours...Sir.”

“You are now.”

Brad didn’t hesitate, no doubt not wanting to give her the chance to change her mind. With his right hand he grasped Nora by her upper arm and half-dragged, half-carried her up the stairs. Nora dropped her eyes to the floor and let him lead her to a room near the end of the hallway. He kicked it open and threw her in. She landed on the plush carpeted floor and stayed there not looking at him while he closed and locked the door.

“When’s the last time someone hit you?” Brad stood in front of her, his feet on either side of her knees.

“Been...awhile.” She started to smile up at him but remembered her place.

“Too long. Look at you...dressed up like one of the big girls with her big girl boots. And trying to play with the big kids? It’s embarrassing. Are you even thirty yet?”

“Thirty-one...Sir.”

“Are you even five-feet-tall?”

“Five-foot-three.”

“You’re a little girl, Nora. And someone needs to remind you that this town doesn’t belong to you.”

Brad reached down and tapped Nora under her chin, a signal that she was to look at him. She met his eyes and waited in silence.

“So this is how we get you to shut up.” Brad grinned wickedly at her and desire coupled with rebellion welled up within her. “We should make you submit more often. Cross. Now.”

Nora started to stand up, but Brad put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

“Crawl to it.”

She hid her rolling eyes behind her hair and crawled on her hands and knees to the St. Andrew’s cross on the wall.

“Up.”

She stood up and waited as Brad unlaced her corset and pulled it off of her. It took a hard bite to her own tongue to stop herself from smirking as Brad stared at her now naked br**sts.

“What a waste...” Brad sighed as he cupped her br**sts in both large hands. The heat from his hands sunk into her skin. Nora almost sighed from the pleasure of his touch but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Such a beautiful woman...you should spend your days and nights naked tied to a man’s bed, gagged and blindfolded with your body waiting to be used.”

He kneaded her right nipple, and Nora closed her eyes.

“But instead Kingsley keeps you locked up in leather.” Brad kissed that sensitive spot under her ear as he unzipped her skirt. Nora suppressed a ragged breath. She didn’t want to want this as much as she did. She had to control herself, stay focused, let him do what he wanted so she could get what she wanted and get out. But she couldn’t quite remember what she wanted.

Brad pulled her skirt down and off her before touching her clitoris gently with the tip of his finger.

Oh yes. That was what she wanted. Now she remembered.

Naked but for her boots, Nora stood waiting as Brad assaulted her with the softest of kisses on her neck and shoulders, the most careful of touches on her br**sts. His restraint was the purest form of torture for a woman who hadn’t been f**ked in two months.

“Turn around,” he ordered but didn’t wait for her to comply. He simply spun her and forced her into the X-shaped cross. Nora rested her cheek against the wall and waited. So many memories crowded into her mind...memories of nights she’d left behind with the one man, the only man she’d ever loved...

“Do you like it?” Brad asked as he strapped her wrists and ankles to the wood. “I made it myself.”

“It’s beautiful.” Nora spoke with sincerity. She knew good work when she saw it. “Sturdy. I like the black paint. Looks a lot like the one in my basement at home.”

“You keep a St. Andrew’s cross in your basement? You’re kinkier than I thought.”

Nora shrugged. “It doubles as a drying rack.”

“And that’s a flogging for you.” Brad pulled away, and Nora grinned into the crossbeam.

“Oh...darn.”

She steeled herself as behind her Brad whipped the air with a flogger. From the sound of it, she could tell he’d picked a heavy one. It beat the air instead of slicing through it. This would hurt.

Good.

The first blow landed without a word of warning, but she managed to stifle any cries of pain or shock. The second landed even harder but still Nora keep quiet. Sadists and Dominants loved forcing a reaction from their subs—pleasure, pain, shock, shame, it didn’t matter as long as the submissive entertained them with their moans and gasps and pleas for mercy. But Nora wouldn’t give Brad the satisfaction.