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obliged her request, striking with an upward motion.
    “Kukae!”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I mean four, thank you, Sir!”
    “That’s better.” He was taking his time, letting her absorb the pain, and not falling into a rhythm that would allow her to reach subspace.
    He waited until her breathing nearly returned to normal. Then he hit her buttocks twice, forming a heated red X across her skin. The sight, accented by the black garters, made his cock throb.
    “Five, six, Sir,” she whispered. “Thank you, Sir.” She exhaled again, this time through her nose. “Thank you, Sir.”
    He repeated the motion with the next two.
    She was silent for a moment, and her breathing was even. She hadn’t counted, hadn’t said thanks.
    Her body looked relaxed. Her grip on the table was loose and easy. Her butt cheeks were unclenched, and her legs were parted. Amazing. She was good. Most subs he knew had to have a pattern of pain to go deep inside their head. She could get there from just a few hits?
    “How are you doing, Alani?” A lovely sheen of sweat covered her exposed skin. “Alani?” He pinched one of her calves.
    “Sir?”
    “Do you need to use your safe word?”
    “No. No, Sir. I’m fine.”
    “Are you comfortable enough?”
    She lifted her head to look at him. She drew her eyebrows together. A scowl had formed between her well-sculptured brows. And her grip tightened on the desk’s edge.
    “Back into position, painslut.”
    She laid her head back down.
    “Please answer the question,” he snapped, his tone unnecessarily harsh.
    “I’m comfortable enough, Sir.”
    “Nothing hurts too bad?”
    “I’m fine, Sir.”
    “Anything you want more of, less of?”
    “Could we just get on with the beating, Sir?”
    He’d succeeded in dragging her back from inside her head. “Indeed.” He shook out his wrist and readjusted the belt, coiling it up a bit. “How many more?”
    Her eyes were open, and she stared sightlessly in the direction of the coat rack. She frowned.
    “You gave me numbers seven and eight. Thank you, Sir. You said I had earned ten. So two more, Sir.”
    “Ask for them.”
    “Please,” she said, closing her eyes. “Please give me two more stripes.”
    “Move toward me as much as you can.”
    She did. Beautiful masochist. Even though he intended to abuse her cunt with the bite of leather, she hungrily asked for it.
    He hadn’t succeeded in making her cry, but her pussy was certainly wet.
    She would remember the last two for a long time, he decided. He placed the first, number nine, on top of the first three, just above her knees.
    She yelped.
    Before she settled, he adjusted his swing and caught her pussy with the tip of his belt.
    This time, she screamed.
    He tossed aside the belt, sank to his knees, grabbed her hips and pulled her back until his face was in her raw cunt. He licked her, aware of her moans. He stuck his tongue inside her, and then when she tried to pull away, he yanked her back and sucked hard on her abused clit.
    She screamed.
    “Don’t you dare come,” he snapped, easing back.
    “Sir!”
    He sucked on her hard again.
    Her body jerked, and she slid back toward him. Obviously she’d released her grip. She’d surrendered to her body’s demands.
    “Sir! I need…”
    He continued his assault. She came in a heated gush. He’d never met anyone like her. Resisting the urge to stroke himself off, he moved away and pushed to his feet.
    “Fuck me, Sir?” she begged.
    He wanted nothing more than to be buried in her hot, wet cunt. Not just any woman would do at this point; he wanted her . “Don’t you think you’ve had enough pleasure, and without permission?” His words were chilled. “You’re out of position. You didn’t count. You didn’t express your gratitude, and you came when you were expressly forbidden. Get on your knees.”

Chapter Three
    The room shifted and spun around her.
    Alani had never had an experience like this.
    The skin behind her knees