“Bratty, even when submitting. I love to see it, baby. Go on,” he says.
“Follow me if you’d like to join,” I say to the others. Theyalljoin me when I go to the door, which makes me sigh heavily.
I lead everyone up to the classroom, and while I undress down to just my lace thong, Raul and Fiona tell the masters and submissives how they are paired. I go to my knees facingeveryone, but sit back on my heels and drop my head. I keep my back straight and my hands resting on my thighs. I hear others come into the room, but I stay where I am.
The submissives sit with their master on an ottoman while the others take to the chairs. Brent and Adrian are setting up for a whipping scene while Raul and Fiona stand nearby. After a moment, Adrian lifts my chin and smiles down at me. “Beautiful as always, Little Dove,” he says sweetly. “Ready!”
“Yes, sir,” I say. Adrian offers me his hand, and I stand up. I have nothing on practically, which has everyone scanning my body. Jax is the one who doesn’t surprise me when he speaks.
“It’s always a treat to see Mrs. Alania submit,” Jax says as Adrian moves me to face away from everyone.
“She’s been practicing for this scene,” Brent says. “Alania, as you can see, has significant scarring. This is from childhood abuse, where she was sexually assaulted and physically abused. Impact play is difficult for Alania, but she has been working toward being able to handle a whip. Physically, she can. Mentally, it’s triggering. So, please respect Alania and give her the space she needs to move through the inevitable emotions. She reacts with anger when triggered, so just know that we have everything under control.”
My hands are pulled up and restrained by chains hanging from the ceiling. Brent pulls my hair up into a bun before moving to stand in front of me. “I’m scared,” I whimper, suddenly overwhelmed with memories.
“I know, Nia,” he says softly. “I will be the one with the whip. Adrian will be here in front of you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I sniffle. Brent kisses me gently before stepping away. Adrian takes his place and kisses me harder.
“Pain and pleasure, Little Dove. I promised you that pleasure will always accompany pain, didn’t I?” Adrian asks.
“Yes, sir,” I sniffle.
“I told you that I’d willingly go to my knees for you, and I have, haven’t I?” Adrian asks.
“Yes, sir.”
Adrian winks at me before looking behind me at Brent. “If you hit me with that whip…”
“I know,” Brent says softly.
Adrian kneels in front of me, and I watch as he slowly pulls my thong down. When I step out of it, he spreads my legs apart before picking me up so that he can drape my legs over his shoulders. He keeps a tight grip on my ass before burying his face in my pussy.
“Oh my God!” I moan when he starts licking and sucking on my clit.
“Masters, feel free to play if your submissive is consenting,” Raul calls out.
“Oh fuck! I’m gonna…”
I am cut off when Brent cracks the whip beside me right as I start to come. The whip is simple, but not as long as a bullwhip. When Adrian doesn’t stop, I groan and wrap my legs around him so I can cross my ankles. This prompts Raul to come over and adjust my restraints so that I am sitting up straight. The first crack lands on my mid-back, and the scream that comes out of me is laced with tears of agony.
“Stop!” I scream.
“You’re doing so well, Nia,” Brent praises before snapping the leather whip across my back again.
“Fuck you!” I sob, and he hits me again. “Stop! Goddamn it! Stop!”
“Good girl, Alania,” Brent praises again. “Get it out. Keep talking to me.”
The craziest part about all of this is that part of my brain is rooted in reality, but the other is being whipped by my father, knowing he is going to use my body and mock me when he makes me come. I learned far too young that the body will always respond, even when we don’t want it to. Even when we are crying and begging for it to stop.
Adrian is keeping a constant stream of orgasms pouring out of me as Brent hits me over and over and over. He doesn’t stop or pause. The pain is driving the pleasure that Adrian is providing, and my entire body is shaking.
“I hate you,” I cry. “Please. I’m sorry. Please.”
“Why are you sorry?” Brent asks. “Who am I, Alania?”
“Please,” I beg, losing grip of reality.
