Tall, Dark, Tattooed And Twisted [NOOK Book]

The whip slashed across his shoulders with brutal force, and pain, fast and furious, exploded inside him. Twisted and braided, the claws of the cat in the talented hands of Volmere flayed Sataire's skin, allowing his precious reserves of blood to flow freely down his back and over his naked buttocks. Held captive in a two-hundred-year-old, A-frame torture device made from a sacred ash tree, Sataire's hands were stretched above his head and tied at the wrists. His long hair, bound in leather, hung in a single braid down his back, the loose ends teasing his balls. His legs were spread wide, manacled at his ankles to the twelve-by-twelve solid beams.

The pain delivered by the cat o' nine tails opened his back, but accomplished much more. It brought voracious hunger and dormant lust rushing like a feral animal to the kill.

Pain...

Blood...

Fucking...

All merged until indistinguishable from one another. His cock, only moments before, had dangled between his outstretched legs, useless and flaccid. Now it rose like the mighty warrior it once was. His amphallang pierced the head of his cock, with platinum skulls on either end beaming up at Sataire, while the emerald eyes glared at him.

The chain attached to a ring piercing his scrotum was connected to a beam under his feet. His stretched sac pained him only minimally at the moment, but when his balls tightened to release their load it would pull ... and hurt like the fires of hell. And then, only then, he would beg for Volmere to free the chain, but not until he needed to scream from the pain.

Sataire lifted his head to slant a look at his tormentor. Volmere, so beautiful in a very twisted way, had pale skinwith ebony tattoos and white hair, and preened like a man getting what he wanted. His cock stood high above its white nest and drew Sataire's attention. Thirteen inches, the base was thick and the length tapered toward the coned purplish head. But it was the amp with three-quarter-inch solid gold balls that stood out, and along his scrotum a line of deadly looking, golden talons progressive in diameter. With his long fingers, bejeweled with a ring on every digit, Volmere feathered along an oriental tattoo of a snake the length of his erection, then rubbed the handle of the whip over his cockhead before he drew back to strike again.

Sataire braced for the blow, or so he thought, until it caught him across the small of his back and buttocks. If not for the restraint holding his hands, he would've gone to his knees as they buckled from the pain. The throbbing pierced through every part of him ... almost enough to finish him too soon.

He threw back his head and screamed without sound. When he opened eyelids he'd squeezed shut at the strike, Volmere had disappeared. The touch of the whip's handle along the crack of Sataire's ass revealed his new location and intent.

"Should I fuck you with this?" When Volmere pressed the ball of the whip against his anus, Sataire didn't respond. It had been rhetorical. Volmere didn't really want an answer.

What did Sataire prefer? Having the handle of the whip rammed up his ass or being flayed with the leather strips? Before Sataire allowed his choice to surface into conscious thought, Volmere penetrated him with the handle. The pain and accompanying acute pleasure made his balls tighten.