Locke and Loaded

Sophia Locke waits. Red hair spills over bare shoulders. She knows what she did. Knows she deserves this. The dungeon air presses in thick and warm. Her wrists already ache from the cuffs. Metal bites. She leans forward because she has to, because you told her to. The bench beneath her is cold. Sweat beads at the small of her back and runs down the crack of her ass. She breathes through her teeth. You take your time with the flogger. The leather tails drag across her ass first, soft, almost gentle. Then they leave the ground. They come down hard. One. Two. Three. Her hips jerk. She doesn’t try to hide it. The sting blooms, spreads. You pause between strokes. Watch the skin flush darker. She waits for the next one. Wants it. Hates that she wants it. You keep her waiting. Edge her like that. Make her ask. Make her mean it. When she finally breaks and begs, you give her a little more. Never enough. The cuffs rattle when she shakes. You walk around her so she can see the flogger in your hand. Show her what’s coming next. She looks at it. Looks at you. Swallows. You drag the handle down her spine, slow. Stop right above the line of her panties. Pull them down. Not off. Just down. Another stroke lands across bare flesh. Harder. She gasps. A sound that turns into a moan halfway out. You set the flogger aside. Use your hand instead. Flat palm. Sharp crack. She counts for you. Voice small. Voice shaking. You stop when her ass glows red and her thighs shine. Take your time again. Let her sit with it. Let her feel exactly how wet she is. How needy. She rocks her hips without thinking. Trying to find something. Anything. You watch. Make her stop. Make her hold still while you decide if she’s earned more. The room stays quiet except for her breathing and the low creak of leather straps. She knows you’re not finished with her. Not even close.