Free Vegas by Dahlia West

Chapter 1
     
    “Alright, pet?”
    Abby flexed her fingers. Her wrists were chained, arms over her head, naked, with her bare feet on the concrete floor. Alright was a relative term. Her heart was beating a staccato tattoo in her chest, she was nervous, but she was unharmed. Which was really what he was asking. She looked up at her boyfriend Mark and nodded. The ball gag in her mouth prevented her from giving more of an answer than that.
    Mark was shirtless, his hard muscles rippling over his large frame. Abby was certain no man had ever looked this good, especially when he was being so bad. He stalked around behind her, the air between them practically crackled with electricity. When she was no longer able to see him, a crack of another kind tore through the air. The riding crop came down hard on her ass. Abby jumped and sucked in a sharp breath. The sting of the blow soon gave way to a spreading warmth and she closed her eyes. When she’d lived in Las Vegas, she’d been surrounded by hedonism, but never once been a part of it. If someone had told her before she moved to Rapid City, South Dakota, that she’d be the part-time pet of an ex-Army Ranger with a penchant for heavy spankings, she wouldn’t have believed it. But here she stood, in the garage where Mark worked during the day building custom bikes, trucks, and cars.
    Except now Burnout was more of a dungeon of pleasure and pain, heavy on the pleasure part. Doing anything kinky outside the safe walls of the house they shared was always as nerve-wracking as it was exciting. Of course, Mark knew that. He’d lured her here by telling her that he’d left something in the office. The bastard. She’d give him a sassy look, if she could see him from where he was standing. It would earn her another stripe, a punishing one at that, but it might be worth it.
    Right now was just the warm up, the steady swats of the crop stinging her ass and thighs as she struggled in the bindings. It was good, though. With Mark it always was. He seemed to want to remind her of that just then, and she felt the triangle shaped end of the implement slide slowly down her back and then slip between her legs. She moaned as he rubbed her pussy with it. Mark always knew to how give as much pleasure as pain and somehow always left her wanting more of both.
    His lips were at her ear; his breath hot against her skin. “Little wet pet,” he teased. He replaced the crop with his fingers, caressing her folds and dipping into her. Lost in her need to come, she pushed back against his hand. Mark chuckled, amused, and let her masturbate herself with his fingers for a moment. His fingertips grazed her clit, just enough to drive her crazy. Just as she was feeling satisfied with her own efforts, he pulled his hand away. She groaned again, this time in frustration. Mark knew, too, how to keep her on that knife edge of almost-orgasm. In fact, he called it ‘edging’ and he did it a lot. Mostly it irritated her, but that was the point, she supposed.
    “I control your pleasure, pet,” he reminded her softly.
    Abby was disappointed, but not furious. Her orgasm would come… eventually. Mark never left her unsatisfied unless he was punishing her. She had to admit, her orgasms after an edging session were harder and longer than regular ones.
    Mark brought the crop down again before moving in front of her, trailing it along behind him. It slid over her hip and across her taut belly, making her shiver. He looked down at her with a dark gaze that she’d learned to covet with every fiber of her being. That look that said he was about to play with her, and Mark’s ‘playtimes’ were nearly transcendent. He skimmed the crop over her breasts and she took in a deep breath. She knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it easier. He swiftly brought it down over one nipple. Abby yanked on the chains, trying to move away. She couldn’t though. Mark hit her other breast, leaving two small red welts competing with