Currency in Flesh

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

W ith a blinding flash of light, we appeared in Lady Cora’s chambers. She had somehow shed her blouse and leather pants for a skintight black dress, so thin I could see the outline of each pert nipple. The Saint Andrew’s cross stood near the foot of her bed, surrounded by deep crimson candles and puddles of melted wax. She struck like a viper, shoving me back against it with her knee as her hands yanked my arms upright and secured my wrists. This time, I faced her, and my tattered camisole hung low enough to show the top of one dark nipple. Hooking one pointed nail under the top of either side of my jeans, she sliced downward and the thick denim ripped like paper beneath her hands. She flung the handful of fabric out of sight.

From the waist down, I was bare save for my drenched panties. Lady Cora sucked in a breath between gritted teeth, eyes lingering on the soft fold of my stomach where it met the line of plum-colored lace. Her hand vanished behind her, and re-emerged holding something long and matte black. My core clenched in nervous anticipation, imagining what she may be planning for me. Her wrist snapped up, and the tensile rod whistled through the air.

“This is a crop,” she said, pacing slowly. “It is a much different experience than the flogger, but one I think you will come to enjoy.”

I chewed my lower lip, squirming inadvertently beneath her gaze. She stopped, clearly expecting a response, and I let out a breathy “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Did you know, it can take the human body more than a second to register pain?” She approached me, running her open palm over the wide expanse of my thighs, one after the other and letting the knuckle of her thumb barely graze between them. I was electric, skin buzzing with sensation. She slapped my thigh with a loud smack, pivoting to strike the other before I had a chance to react. I cried out, more in surprise than pain, and she continued—positioning herself behind the cross so she could hit each leg in quick succession. As my body took each impact, I jiggled. My clit rubbed between slick, plump folds, an orgasm building within me without any direct contact. My eyes fluttered closed and a needy moan slipped free of my lips.

Her Highness’s warm hands moved from my thighs to my breasts, palming them through the thin charmeuse and squeezing hard. She ripped the top downward, thin straps cutting into my shoulders before they snapped and it settled around my stomach and hips. I felt my nipples harden even more at the sudden rush of open air, yelping as she pinched them between thumb and forefinger and pulled her hands with an audible pop. My thighs burned, and I looked down to see them cherry-red with faint handprints scattered across my skin. She slapped my breast, fingers colliding with the sensitive peak and the pain pierced through me like a shard of ice. Again and again, her vicious hands struck my full, low tits, and they swung wildly as another wounded cry tore from my chest .

“Nice and warm, my darling?” she crooned from over my shoulder. Across my body, my skin had grown shiny with a faint sheen of sweat, and she licked it from my neck with a flick of her tongue. “You are such a treat,” she said as she came to face me. “All that luscious flesh arranged so beautifully around those soft pink petals.” Her wrist pulled back the smallest bit before flicking forward fast and hard. I heard the crack a breath before I felt it, the flared tip of the crop biting against the delicate lips of my pussy like a flash of lightning.

I screamed.

White-hot agony radiated up through me, colliding with the building pressure low in my gut, and I came, sagging against the cuffs at my wrists and mewling like an untamed creature. I heard Lady Cora’s dark chuckle beneath the sorry sounds I failed to contain. Waves of pleasure and pain washed over me, coursing through my muscles and tightening my abdomen. I felt the evidence of my climax soak through my panties and drip down my thighs, the heightened sensation of the reddened skin making every millimeter it traveled feel like a mile. It seemed like it just kept going, the cresting swells crashing and rising again and again until my knees quaked and my feet slipped against the slick floor.

Lady Cora clicked her tongue. “That was not supposed to happen. I had every intention of making you wait, but your pathetic, neglected cunt simply could not help itself I see.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I wheezed. My shoulders and arms were getting tight and uncomfortable, and I worried I’d lose my footing and dislocate them or something, but she didn’t seem to be making any move to release me.

She ran the end of the crop over her own leg slowly. “Do not lie to me, Grace. Your body has been begging to come since the moment you arrived.”

I dropped my gaze to the floor like a chastised puppy. She wasn’t wrong. I could remember every agonizing second of her hand rubbing me through the fleece sweats, how close I had been and the devastating feeling when she snatched it away. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“I will not touch your pussy again today,” she began, and my wide eyes shot to hers. “If you cannot contain yourself and behave like a good pet, you will never come again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

She smiled. “Good girl. Now, let us continue.”

This time, I saw her posture shift, and I tensed in anticipation of the blow. The tip of the crop struck my stomach, dulled slightly by the thin layer of crumpled silk which still circled me. She hit me three more times in nearly the same spot, making a line of pain bloom just below my navel.

Lady Cora stepped closer and bent at the waist, taking the rod between her teeth so both hands were free. She grasped what was left of the camisole and ripped it down the center, exposing a deep red band of skin. Dropping the fabric, she took the crop from her mouth and crouched, gently stroking from the smallest part of my waist down my hip, thigh, and calf with the soft leather tip. I flinched and her lips tipped upward.

When she leaned into me, her hair brushed the underside of my stomach, and I shivered. She was so close, I could feel the heat of her breath. I would have given anything for her to press her mouth to my bare flesh, but in a cruel twist of my desire, she breathed in heavily and sighed.

“It is such a pity that you lost the privilege of my tongue, marigold. You smell delicious, I would so love to get my tongue inside you.”

I whimpered, closing my eyes against the threat of further tears. “I haven’t earned your tongue, Your Highness.”

Lady Cora kissed my cheek. “You are an excellent student.” As she stood, the scents of smoke and the juicy bite of ripe fruit drifted over me. I existed in a state suspended between hurt and comfort—feeling warmth from the flickering candles and my heated, stinging skin. There was a dull ache that throbbed a bit deeper, and would likely leave bruises behind. I savored it.

Thwack. The flexible crop whipped through the air, searing a line of pain along both of my breasts. She hadn’t hit me with the leather tip this time, instead striking me with the full length of the tensile shaft. “Count them,” she instructed.

“One.”

Again, she raised her arm. Another strike echoed around us and a moment later, Thwack. I jerked backward with a yelp. “Two.”

Thwack. “Three.”

Thwack. “Four.” My wrists strained against the cuffs and my teeth ground together.

Thwack. I screamed, “Five!” I was certain my flesh had split from the impact.

Lady Cora’s hands were impossibly smooth, unsullied by hard labor. They roamed over my smarting skin, soothing the tingling burn. When I looked down, I could clearly see five angry welts. My tits looked like fucking notebook paper, perfectly spaced, blood-red lines spanning the full width of my body. Two were darker than the rest, and when Lady Cora’s palm moved over them, I expected her hand to come away bloodied. Everything hurt, and I could barely think outside of that knowledge. My brain was filled with fire and protest, but I knew Lady Cora would still find me slick between the thighs. I didn’t know how to reconcile the sensations. I’m sure my poor therapist would have much to say about it.

My eyes closed, and I focused on steadying my breaths. Light shifted across my eyelids and I figured Lady Cora was walking past, but didn’t have the energy left to consider why. The pain radiating across my chest pulsed in time with my heartbeat. The sharp pain had begun to dull from the slash of a razor blade to a more manageable throb. The center of my underwear was stuck to my labia, and I moved my hips slightly in an attempt to dislodge them. The crackle of flame grew louder, my eyelids feeling sandy as I dragged them open to look and took in Lady Cora’s hands curled around a deep crimson pillar candle.

My lips drifted apart, and I planned to ask what she was doing, but before the words could form, she had tipped the candle and a thin stream of wax spattered onto my ravaged chest. I hissed, recoiling instinctually as it ran down each distinct welt, but there was nowhere to go. She bent, dropping the candle with a muted thud, and pressed a kiss into the wax.

“The most important correspondence should be closed and secured with wax. People know better than to break an important seal, especially if it bears the mark of its maker.” She leaned back, taking in the shape of her lips imprinted on my breast. My breathing was ragged and my chest heaved with the effort, even as I fought the urge to rub my legs together and ease the terrible need I felt for her.

When she kissed me, her mouth tasted of cherries and cinnamon, the scent of the wax clinging to her skin. I groaned against her tongue, lost in the small affection. “I will cover your body in the language of desire, fill you with my secrets and strengths, and nobody but me will ever lay an eye on a single word. You are a holy text, Grace, and the entirety of the Underworld shall see you bear my seal.”