Her beating would be significantly more than eight blows, and that was a mercy?

Jack continued, "It will put you in the right frame of mind, bring circulation to the area so that there are fewer chances for any bruising. You'll be able to take a greater punishment. You'll crave it."

She expelled a disbelieving cough.

"Are you ready?"

She actually wasn't sure. She cleared her throat. "Yes, Sir."

"Commence, Logan. I'll let you know when she's had enough."

Involuntarily she clenched her buttocks.

"It'll go easier on you if you relax," Logan told her.

Easy for him to say.

He trailed the leather strands up the inside of her right thigh then her left. He allowed the tips to play across her lower back and her arse.

She began to move a bit, as much as the restraints would allow. She closed her eyes. Unbelievably the coldness of dread receded and was replaced with supple awareness.

The blows that landed on her thighs and arse cheeks were gentle and seductive, making something blossom inside her.

After a couple of minutes, she seemed to relax into his rhythm. The leather throngs seemed to lick at her skin in an unfulfilling tease.

She felt soothing fingers on her spine and across her shoulders. She didn't know who was touching her, and it didn't matter. Her body was tingling with desire.

She relaxed into the whip's caress and she wanted more, wanted an orgasm. She was ready to scream from the pleasure. "Thank you," she murmured, not sure if anyone heard her.

"That's a good girl," Logan said. "You're turning a lovely shade of pink. You're nearly ready for the Master's punishment, I should say."

"Indeed."

The light beating stopped. She was all but panting. Her skin was damp from perspiration while her nether region was burning from desire.

Her buttocks were being pried apart. Then she felt firmness against her pussy.

A jolt of something akin to electricity shot through her. "What...?" Oh God. Jack or maybe Logan was there, between her legs, eating out her pussy.

She was going to die and be happy to be on her way.

She was grateful to be secured so tightly to the bench. She was able to let go, to enjoy the experience, not fighting fate or herself. "May I come?" she asked.

There was no response.

She dug her fingernails into her palms as distraction. She'd learned already that no response meant no.

She tried to crawl away from the exquisite torture, but firm hands drew her back the few centimetres that she'd moved. "Please, please, please. Please may I come, Sir?"

There was no response, just harder pressure against her already swollen clit.

"Begging," she told him. "This is me begging!"

"You may come, sub."

She thrust back her hips, demanding additional pressure. Whoever was there responded, inserting a couple of fingers into her pussy and licking her hard. She screamed out her orgasm, and through her tiny drinks of oxygen, she expressed her appreciation.

"Now," Jack said, "you're ready."

Still dazed, she barely registered the first few blows. Unless she'd experienced it, she would never have believed it possible to be so saturated with pleasure that you didn't notice the pain.

"Please count."

The words registered, barely.

"I need to be sure you're with me, Sinead. Please count."

With him? She was pretty sure she wasn't. She wasn't sure where she was, but right here, right now...? No.

"That was four," Jack prompted.

"Four," she repeated dutifully.

Because her body was afire, his punishment strikes only intensified the need inside her.

He waited an interminable amount of time. "I'm ready, Sir."

He dragged out the anticipation. "Breathe," he told her.

"I'm okay."

"I want you fully in your body, fully aware."

She preferred to be floating in the ether. Even fine Irish whisky had never had this kind of effect on her.

He crouched next to her once again.

"I'll die without another orgasm," she told Jack.

He laughed. "Not likely."

"You should feel it from this side."

"Shall we continue?"

"Please," she said. And she meant it. She wanted it.

He shook out the throngs of the flogger.

Unable to resist the impulse, she kissed his hand, the one holding the flogger, the one doling out her punishment.

His brows knit together. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream, sub."

"Yes," she whispered.

He took his time moving in behind her.

"What number will this be?"

"Five," she told him, hoping she was right, but not entirely convinced.

He landed the blow.

Since there'd been a few minutes between number four and number five, she yelped. Now she understood what he meant about being in her body. She'd felt the nasty thud of the leather.

He landed the next on the inside of her thigh.

She cried out. The skin there was more sensitive, but exquisitely so. The pain receded quickly, leaving behind a blaze of passion. "Thank you."

The seventh landed on the inside of her other thigh. She reared up as much as the restraints would allow.

On an intellectual level, she understood more of what he'd been telling her.

Being warmed up was a mercy.

Being restrained was a blessing.

Logan had been expected to have his cock restrained and vicious weights added to his testes without struggle. The man had been expected to control his reactions whereas she was free to fight herself as much as her Dom.

"How many more, Sinead?"

She was expected to do maths? All she knew was that she needed what Jack Quinn was giving her.

"Sub?"

"However many Sir chooses." That seemed like a safe answer.

He was obviously far too clever for her. "How many have you taken?" he asked.

"Seven?"

"Is that an answer or a guess?"

"A guess," she confessed.

"Next time, no climax until after your beating is over."

She was naughty enough, horny enough, to start grinding her pelvis into the padded bench.

"Stop immediately."

As if she'd thought he wouldn't notice? "Sir, I'm coming out of my skin."

"One more. And I'll make it count. Logan, my belt if you please."

Belt?

She felt his thumb on her pussy, sliding through the moistness, pressing against her swollen nub.

"Pinch the sub's nipples."

Even though she was already wearing clamps?

In her peripheral vision, she saw Logan's movements. He fetched the belt from a hook on the wall. Seconds later she saw him again. He moved to the front of the punishment bench and squatted. He reached for her and unerringly found her already tortured nipples. He squeezed brutally. A fraction of a second later, the belt blazed across her buttocks. She cried out. The pain was torment; it was amazingly pleasurable. "Please, Sir, fuck me."

Logan slowly released his grip on her nipples although he left the clamps in place.

It was seemingly forever before she felt Jack's sheathed cockhead at her entrance.

With the plug up her rear hole, his cock made her feel impossibly full. It was a wonder she could take him at all.

She wriggled back, straining against her bondage.

He took pity on her, holding her hips steady, pulling her back as he filled her cunt again and again.

"May I come?"

"No need for permission this time," he told her. "Come as often as you want."

She surrendered to her baser self. Between the plug and his engorged flesh, she was lost. He filled her completely, driving balls-deep, pulling out, thrusting in to the hilt again.

She came over and over as powerful waves of orgasms threatened to drown her.

By the time he spilled inside the condom, inside her, she was shaking, spent.

"We'll get you off the bench," he told her. "Slowly."

His voice seemed to come from a great distance.

But now that the endorphins were receding, she was aware of the pain in her nipples and the discomfort of her muscles, the itch of the plug, how swollen her pussy was and the fact she couldn't draw a complete, full breath.

Her Dom-she couldn't yet think Master-withdrew from her throbbing pussy.

"Easy," Logan coached as he released her right wrist.

At the same time, Jack released her left side. They both tended to her, rubbing her skin. Jack's hands were smooth. Logan's were work-hardened. But both men were gentle.

As if by unspoken accord, they released her knees.