Free Safeword Quinacridone by Candace Blevins Page B

thought she should run screaming from the room. The truth was, she’d enjoyed the spanking, and he’d proven he could give her multiple orgasms. Since no nice guy had ever aroused her, much less brought her to a screaming orgasm, she figured she owed it to both of them to watch the video. “Yes, and I’m glad you don’t have regular sex with her. I don’t think I want to see you screwing someone else.”
    He gave a half smile and then seemed to think better of it, smoothing it away. “Jealous?”
    “No.” He looked at her in disbelief and she considered her feelings. It wasn’t practical to be upset about the people in someone’s past, so why didn’t she want to see? She shrugged. “It’d be silly to be jealous of women you had sex with before we met, but it doesn’t mean I want to see it.”
    He dipped his head as if approving her point, and he and his bare-naked ass walked to another wall and opened a door, revealing a giant LCD monitor in a silver frame with a white keyboard hanging below. He unfolded a brushed stainless shelf, situated the keyboard and mouse, and clicked through a few screens. The movie came to life showing a thin woman on the cross, nude, with her wrists and ankles encased in what looked like white leather and attached to the frame’s hardware.
    Travis’ voice came through the speakers. “Tell me what I can do to you Casey. I want to be clear about this before we begin.”
    “You can flog and whip me until I bleed, Sir.”
    “What’s your safeword?”
    “Whiskey, Sir.”
    “Do you want a warm-up tonight?”
    “Minimal, Sir. Work from a flogger to the whip, but I don’t need much.”
    Cara watched in sickened awe as Travis swung the flogger and struck her back. She listened to the gasps and screams, saw the Travis on screen grow hard, watched him stroke himself occasionally, but mostly concentrate on what he was doing to the woman on the cross. After about twenty minutes he turned her around and flogged her breasts, pussy, and the front of her thighs until they were all bright red, and Casey was crying between what sounded like moans of pain and cries of ecstasy interspersed by screams of agony.
    Travis had obvious skill, and his control of the flogger and the woman was a huge turn on for Cara. Casey seemed to simultaneously want and fear the pain, and she clearly did not want him to stop.
    Cara’s legs involuntary rubbed together a few times, and she held herself intentionally still as she watched the flogger travel up and down the body on the monitor, alternating casual lashes with the occasional strike he threw his entire body into. She was tempted to say she needed to use the restroom , so she could masturbate in private, but couldn’t tear herself away. She needed to see what happened next, and was both aroused and appalled by the spectacle playing out before her. She could feel Travis watching her occasionally but couldn’t bring herself to look at him — afraid of meeting his eyes, of what she might see in them, and of what he’d see in hers.
    Her attention remained glued to the Travis on screen, and when he was through thrashing her breasts, pussy, and thighs and said it was time to turn the woman back around, she started crying harder.
    Gut wrenching sobs spilled from the speakers as he reattached wrists and ankles, but he ignored her tears, finally addressing her when he’d restrained her again, saying only, “What’s your safeword, Casey?”
    She shook her head. “No. I’m not saying it. It’s alcohol. Jack Daniels. But I’m not saying the word.”
    He nodded and replied , “Very well,” and walked out of the screen, returning with a long whip with only o ne strand, not a bunch like the others.
    Cara watched for only another thirty seconds and suddenly couldn’t be in the room with those screams any longer — they were going to haunt her nightmares. Surely only a sociopath could want to make a woman scream like that. She ran down the hallway and flew into