His body was against hers again, warm, holding her.

“Eyes on me,” he said, turning her head. Brown gaze, calm and wonderful.

She smiled at him and savored his grin.

“Look at you. Even under a whip, you trusted me enough to hit subspace,” he murmured, kissing her until the ground disappeared from under her. “I’m very proud of you, gatita.” He pulled back. “Tell me your safe word.”

“Cramp. Only I don’t need it,” she confided.

His eyes crinkled. “I’m going to give you five more, and they will hurt.”

A worry started to rise in her. She heard the sharp crack behind her, but nothing hit.

“Take a breath, gatita.” Firm. Her master.

An orgasm seemed to be floating inside, waiting, as she inhaled.

“Let it out.”

She breathed out and heard a crack and razor-sharp pain shot across her right buttock. She sucked in a breath, feeling her body jerk, and as she exhaled, another line of fire hit. Yet it was Master R doing it, expecting her to handle it, making her take it, and that sent her even deeper. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Another razor cut of pain jolted her to her core and another— white-hot pain—and another.

Through the surging of the blood in her head, she heard his footsteps. His arms surrounded her, pulled her into his warmth. “I’m so proud of you. You have pleased me very much,” he murmured into her hair.

She blinked at him. “I will take more if you need me to, Master.”

He frowned. “Do you want more?”

“No. But if you—”

“No, gatita. You’re not a masochist.” He kissed her cheek. “For which I am very happy. You have had enough.”

She sighed, still half in the clouds, and when he kissed her long and slow, her whole body reminded her of what she wanted. “Can we go somewhere and…?”

His head lifted, brown eyes keen. Hot.

“And make love,” she finished. It would be love. She knew that.

His grin flashed. “Are you saying, ‘Just fuck me already?’”

She choked, but the throbbing of her lower half wouldn’t be denied. “Yes, Master. If Master pleases.”

“Oh, that will please Master,” he said, gripping her hair. “But we aren’t going inside, Kimberly.”

Out here? Her eyes rounded.

Laughing softly, he unsnapped the chains holding her legs apart and then reached up to the panic snaps above. Two clicks, and she was free. She groaned as she lowered her arms, her shoulders aching. Her knees wobbling.

He picked her up, snuggling her against his bare chest. His clean, masculine scent surrounded her, musky from the exercise, making her want to rub her skin over his. She felt small in his arms, delicate and cherished.

He crossed the patio and sat her on the unused wooden table. “Lie on your back, sumisa,” he said and folded his arms over his chest.

Even though sweat covered her body, she felt the flush rising in her face.

When he lifted his eyebrows slightly, she knew she didn’t want to let him down. Never. She lay back.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, the heat in his eyes scorching across her skin. “When we met, you preferred pain to sharing the intimacy of your orgasm in front of others,” he said, running his hands over her breasts. “Will you offer it to me now?”

Make love here? In front of…everyone?

His eyes held hers. Demanding…more. That she surrender everything. And she wanted to. “I will do whatever Master wants,” she said. “Yes.”

His gaze softened. “You took pain for me, Kimberly,” he said soberly. “Now can you take being restrained—and then pleasure?”

Shivers ran over her body. “Yes, Master.”

His hand stroked over her leg, warming her flesh for a moment. Then he pushed her legs against her chest and slid her down the table until her bottom was just over the edge. A tremor ran through her. The drifty feeling hadn’t quite disappeared, but she rapidly returned to the real world as he hooked her wrist cuffs to the edges of the table even with her waist. He moved her left leg so he could clip the ankle cuff to her wrist cuff and did the same on her right, spreading her legs widely.

Her pussy was exposed. Very exposed. He stood back as she conquered the first shudder of fear. She stared at him, using him as her anchor, knowing he’d keep her safe.

His broad hands ran over her body. “I’ve missed having a little submissive bound and open before me,” he said softly. His knuckles trailed down her cheek. “To have one that loves me and tries so hard to please me is an even better feeling.”

Everything inside her melted.

“But this is a test for you. Will you yield me everything?” He unhooked a wide canvas strap from under the table and pulled it across her low stomach, just above her mound. “Even when I take the last few bits of movement from you?” He secured it tightly, pinning her hips against the smooth table.

“Yes, Master.” She tried not to wiggle, to test the restraints, and couldn’t help herself. But her hips wouldn’t move at all. Panic rose and fell like the tide.

“And a test for me as well. Do I trust your surrender enough that I will push you as I should and give us both what we need?” The ruthless determination in his gaze shook her to the core. “I trust you more than I thought I could. Are you all right, gatita?”

Fear didn’t stand a chance next to Raoul Sandoval, her master. She smiled at him.

“Beautiful Kimberly.” He leaned an arm on the table, filling her vision.

His lips brushed over hers, and he kissed her, severing the current of fear, replacing it with need. His warm hand closed over her breast, cupping it, teasing the nipple to a point even as he stroked his tongue over hers, as he reminded her of his taste, his scent, his possession.

“Mmm.” He lifted his head and smiled, whispering, “You look like you need to be fucked, sumisa.”

And everybody probably saw that. She glared at him and earned a pinch on her nipple that made her gasp. Her breasts were swollen, as if they’d grown a cup size, leaving the skin too tight. Her nipples throbbed, and she could feel the odd stings from where he’d lashed her lightly. He bent down and licked over each nipple, circling them, leaving them wet so the breeze cooled them, tightening them further.

More. Her back arched.

“Too much movement.” Straps went across her, above and below her breasts, constricting everything between until the mounds were pushed up tightly.

And she really couldn’t move.

“Sí, I like that.” He smiled and closed his big hands over her aching breasts, fondling with calloused palms and pinching her nipples lightly. Her clit started throbbing to match the ache in her breasts.

She wanted to beg for more and knew he’d just laugh and do whatever he wanted in his own time. God, why did being naked and exposed, restrained and unable to stop him, make her so, so hot?

He stepped back, regarding her…as if considering all the dirty, dark things he could do to her. Her insides clenched with desire.

What would he do? His hands? Mouth? Toys? But she hadn’t fetched up any plugs or clamps or… Her breath stopped as he walked out of sight. I brought him a crop.

Oh no. No no no.

Master R strolled back into her field of vision, tapping the long, thin rod on his palm. Oh God, he was going to. Her breasts were pointing up like two targets, her legs wide, her labia gaping open. He wouldn’t…would he? She felt the trickle of her own moisture from her pussy down to her asshole.

“Look at that,” he said softly. He rubbed the crop’s leather flap over her breasts, teasing her nipples. “All excited. Not a hint of fear in you.”

She realized it was true. The anticipation of pain seemed to just turn her on further.

“I was watching when Jessica told you about how Z restrained her on the Shadowlands bar.” The crop trailed down her stomach, flickered over her labia.

Oh God. Just the touch of it, the teasing. She felt swollen, tight. Desperate.

His fingers followed the leather. The contrast between cool and warm, smooth and rough, inanimate and alive, made her body pulse with need.

At the foot of the table, he smiled slightly as he traced her folds with one finger, up and over her clit. Deliberately, mercilessly increasing her arousal.

He pushed a finger into her, sliding easily, his thick knuckles adding to the swelling sensation. Two fingers, and his tongue licked over her clit, bringing her higher. Her thighs quivered as she tried to raise her pussy higher, to get more. Nothing—absolutely nothing— moved. She was pinned, completely immobile.

Master R pulled his fingers out of her vagina slowly and ran his slick hand over her leg. “She told you how he used a whip on her pussy.”

He hit her inner thigh with the crop—the very tip of the leather flap. The sting made her gasp.

“I saw how much it excited you, gatita. To think of having your pussy whipped.” The crop made its way up the inside of her thigh to the top of her mound. Each flick of the leather against her skin stung.

Her entire body tensed in anticipation of that small pain landing on her throbbing clit, but he continued up, hitting her lightly across her stomach.

She jumped when the crop hit the underside of her right breast. He circled, once, twice, around her breast. It was so tight, each sting reverberated through the whole mound. Her breathing was like a boat tossing in the waves, finding and losing its rhythm.