The sound that escaped his throat was more animal than human. Exactly what she wanted to hear.

By the time they reached “cinq” he had ten criss-crossing lines on his chest, thin and red as a brand. The welts would fade fairly quickly. The ones produced by the wheel and the wand wouldn’t last more than a day or two. Amazing that something that felt like one’s chest being cut open by a knife could cause no lasting harm at all.

“On a scale of one to ten,” she asked him as she put the wand away and tossed the wheel into the trash can, “what was that?”

“Onze,” he said, his eyes closed tight as his whole body shivered from the last aftershocks of the pain.

“Onze? I hurt you all the way to eleven? I’m pretty damn proud of myself right now, I have to say.” She brought her lips to his chest and licked one of the lines from tip to tip. Her hot mouth against his seared skin must have felt like salt in an open wound. And yet he’d only grown more aroused from this latest round of agony.

Perhaps it was time to put him out of his misery.

She stood face-to-face with him and pushed her hips into his again.

“Your cock is harder than I’ve ever seen it. And I’ve seen it hard a lot.”

“You have a gift for pain, Maîtresse.”

“What can I say? I’m a giver. I’m in a very giving mood right now. Are you in a taking mood?”

“Yes,” he breathed, sounding more desperate than she’d ever heard him.

“So you know what a stickler my hard-ass boss is, right? I’m not allowed to sell sex. Only kink. I can only get women off, not the men....”

“I hate your boss. He has no compassion.”

“Tell me about it. How’s this...I’ll charge you for the pain, and the sex will be on the house. How’s that?”

“A perfect compromise. Surely not even your boss could find fault with that.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She brought her lips to his mouth.

“Yes...whatever we do,” he said, smiling against her mouth, “let’s not hurt him.”

With a wink she kissed him long and slow and deep. The kiss felt more wicked than all the pain she’d given him that hour. She was a Dominatrix. Pain was her profession. Not even hookers kissed their clients. Then again, this was no ordinary client.

She pulled back and grinned at him.

“Now I have to get you into the bedroom. How should I lead you there? Leash again?”

“God, no, please.”

“Then it’s on your hands and knees. Down boy.”

With a whistle and a pat on her leg, she summoned him to follow her as if he was a dog. And like a dog he followed behind her on all fours. Once in the bedroom, she grabbed him by the back of his hair and pulled him off the floor.