340 BDSM Play 1

Louis leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear, his tone darker now. “It’s yes Master… Olivia… the next time you say just yes, you will be punished.”

“Stay where you are,” he ordered, his voice calm but authoritative.

He withdrew his hand and stepped away, the absence of his touch almost worse than the flogger’s sting. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

He held it where I could see, his eyes locking on mine. “I’ll start gentle,” he promised, though his voice carried the weight of command. “And you will tell me everything you feel.”

The flogger struck again, sharper this time, making me cry out. Louis leaned close, his mouth brushing my ear, his voice low and merciless. “I didn’t give you permission to make that sound.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth, though his eyes stayed serious. “If that changes, you tell me. Say red, and everything stops. Do you understand?”

I shook my head quickly. “No… it feels…” My voice caught, my cheeks heating. “It feels good.”

Inside, neatly arranged and gleaming under the soft light, lay his tools. Cuffs of leather, polished steel restraints, coils of rope, a spread of floggers and paddles in varying shades and textures–all organized with precision. Each one whispered of a world I’d never stepped into, but one he clearly lived in with intention. Louis’s hand hovered before selecting a single item: a pair of soft black leather cuffs lined with velvet. He shut the cabinet, turned, and walked back to me with that same unshakable calmness. Louis slipped it over my eyes, tying it firmly behind my head. Darkness swallowed me instantly, and my body went rigid. The world shrank to sound, scent, and the ghost of his presence.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, his voice a deep growl that slid down my spine. His finger lingered at my entrance, circling, teasing, never quite giving me what I craved. “So wet… from just a few strokes. My greedy little wolf.”

340 BDSM Play 1

A shiver raked down my spine, heat flooding my core at his words. He guided me slowly toward the padded bench in the center of the room.

Louis stepped back, studying me with a gaze that was equal parts hunger and control.

“Lean forward,” he instructed, his tone steady and authoritative.

The flogger hit across my skin again, a sting followed by the maddening caress of his finger. My chest heaved, my lips parted, desperate to cry out, but I bit down hard, swallowing the sound. The battle burned through me–obedience versus desire, restraint versus release.

The vulnerability of it made heat curl through me, low and insistent. I could feel how wet I already was, my thighs pressing together in vain.

My chest rose and fell fast, straining for any clue. Footsteps? A whisper? Nothing. The stillness drove me mad. I strained my ears, desperate to know where he was, what he was doing. Every second stretched, my breath ragged, my body trembling in the dark.

My heart hammered, my body trembling, but I didn’t move.

“Too tight?” he asked.

A drop of liquid heat spilled onto my back. I gasped, the sensation burning for an instant before softening into a deep, strange ache. Another drop followed, sliding down the curve of my shoulder blade, hotter, heavier, making me jolt against the cuffs and gasp aloud.

Louis’s hand moved suddenly, tugging the lace of my panties aside. The cool air hit me, and before I could process it, his fingertip brushed against my slick pussy. My whole body jolted.

Louis’s thumb lingered at my jaw for a moment before he stepped back, his presence pulling away just enough to make my body ache for it. His eyes swept over me, sharp and assessing, like he was reading not just my body but my soul.

A moan broke from my lips before I could stop it. The sound filled the room, needy and raw.

Louis’s chuckle rumbled low, darkly pleased. “Good girl,” he praised, his hand pressing against my lower back to keep me steady. “Now let’s see how long you last.”

“You’ll hold it in until I say otherwise,” he commanded, each word firm, absolute. “No moaning. No begging. You only give me what I allow.”

“Trust me,” he murmured, low and commanding.

Louis raised my cuffed wrists and secured them to the straps fixed above the bench, holding me in place. I tested the restraint instinctively, but there was no escape–it was snug, firm, yet not painful. Just enough to remind me that I was his to command.

My lips parted, a shiver of nerves and arousal rushing through me. “Yes, Louis,” I whispered, breathless.

The flogger bit into my skin again, followed by the torment of his fingers circling inside my pussy, stroking just enough to make me burn with need. My body writhed against the bench, my wrists tugging at the restraints, my breath ragged as tears slipped hot and unbidden down my cheeks.

Olivia’s POV

Then something else touched me–unexpected, startling.

“Yes, Master,” I breathed.

I froze, every nerve on edge. My wolf didn’t fight him–she stilled, waiting, obeying. Louis moved past me toward the sleek cabinet against the wall. He opened it with a key, the quiet click of the lock echoing in the dim room. When the doors swung open, my breath hitched.

The flogger struck suddenly, sharper now, my body jolting against the cuffs. I bit my lip, swallowing the cry that rose in my throat. Then… silence. Long, heavy silence.

A blindfold.

He lifted the flogger, and the first whisper–soft stroke landed across my ass, light as a feather. The sensation jolted me, a shudder rolling through my body. My nipples hardened painfully, my pussy throbbing with desperate desire.

Candle wax.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I heard him move, the soft thud of a drawer sliding open. My throat tightened when he returned, something smooth brushing over my temple. A strip of fabric.

I obeyed, my chest tightening as I bent slightly at the waist, pressing my hips and stomach against the cool padded leather. The position forced my back to arch, my breasts pushing forward, my lace-covered nipples aching as they brushed the air. My legs stayed planted firmly on the ground, though they trembled under me, the anticipation winding tighter with every heartbeat.

The second stroke of the flogger landed on my ass, firmer this time, a sting rippling across my skin. I gasped, my breath hitching as my body arched against the padded bench.

Another strike, quick, controlled, pulling a whimper from me. His finger returned, sliding lightly inside me, drawing a fresh wave of wetness he knew I couldn’t hide.

Shit! A mistake.

I lifted them slowly, palms up, and he took them into his much larger hands. His touch was warm, grounding, almost tender as he buckled the cuffs around my wrists. He was precise, adjusting them until they fit snug but not tight. When he finished, he threaded his fingers lightly over the leather, checking, testing, ensuring I felt no discomfort.

“Yes, Master,” I whispered, trembling.

“Hands,” he said firmly.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said, his voice roughened now. His fingers trailed down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, slow and deliberate, making me gasp. Then he picked up something from the bench’s side–a soft flogger, its strands thin, supple, and harmless-looking in his grip.

My thighs trembled. “I—I’m sorry, Master—”

“Still,” Louis ordered, his hand pressing firmly against my back. His voice carried no room for defiance.

Louis’s mouth curved in the faintest, satisfied smile. “It’s Master, Liv,” he murmured, his tone both annoyed and possessive. “Now, let’s see how much of me you’re ready to take.”