One breath at a time

Take a deep breath: Gwen Masters, our erstwhile Lustie, is "a gifted mistress of erotic storytelling and the simple idea of boy meets girl becomes something extremely powerful in her skilled and capable hands" - as says the rave review for her new book in EroticaRevealed. (They say plenty more, but the short version is: you gotta read this stuff. You gotta.) One breath at a time has just been released and to celebrate Gwen is coming out to play with Lust Bites again... She'll be around to answer any questions you have and as usual, comment for a chance to win a copy of the book!

About the book

Kelley is a woman with a broken heart. She doesn't need another
complication in her life, and certainly not another man.
But when she stumbles across Tom, the things she thought she
didn't want are exactly what she needs. As they fall for each other and embark on a compelling journey through dominance and submission, both lovers strive to shake away their dark pasts.
But is blinding passion enough to keep them from being ripped apart?

Now read on...

‘Please.’
The paddle came down hard on my ass. I knew that was only the least of what I was going to get. I had seen the floggers, the Cat ‘O Nine Tails, the riding crop and the cane. The cane had given me a sharp moment of fear when it caressed my heated face, a gentle warning of what was to come.
‘Breathe deep,’ Tom had said. ‘Even breaths. Focus on the sensation. And don’t panic. Panic is the absence of trust. You know the words to stop me, and you trust me.’
‘Yes.’
Those words came back to me now, as I took slow and even breaths. I could stop him in an instant. How I trusted him so much in such a short period of time might always be a mystery, but the underlying reasons didn’t matter much. The trust did.
The tingle spread through my thighs.
‘Please.’
The paddle came down again, this time whistling through the air before it hit. I bit my lip hard to hold in a startled cry. It wasn’t hurting, not yet, but I knew it would soon enough. I wasn’t sure how much I could handle, but I had told Tom to make sure we found out.
I was shackled to that weight bench, right where I had wanted him to put me. In this physical position, there was nothing in the world I could do to prevent the blows. If I told him no, he would spank me harder. If I moved too much or tried to get away, he would spank me even harder than that. I was at his mercy, tied down with my legs spread on the lower bar and my arms on the upper bar.
‘Please.’
This time the blow came from the other side. I was startled by it, and instinctively moved away from the source. That was a mistake. The paddle whistled through the air and this time the smack was much harder. It echoed through the basement.
I gasped in surprise. Tom didn’t speak.
‘Please.’
This time he braced himself; I could see him out of the corner of my eye. Then I didn’t have to ask again, because each blow came down in rapid succession, a carefully orchestrated dance. With only a few seconds between each paddling, he worked my ass from top to bottom, grazing my thighs and my lower back with the paddle, and a few times hitting almost dead-center, making my pussy jump only inches below the punishing leather.
By the time he was finished, we were both breathing hard.
‘Please,’ I whispered.
Tom stood behind me in shocked silence. I could almost hear his mind working, weighing what to do, wondering how serious I really was, and if I was doing it for his benefit or for mine. I watched as he deliberately reached over my line of vision and picked up the Cat ‘O Nine Tails.
I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better of it. I had asked for this. And from the look on Tom’s face and the rock-hard arousal he wasn’t trying to hide, I knew he wanted it even more than I did.
So instead of doing what my fears told me to do, I did the exact opposite.
‘Please,’ I said again.
He didn’t give me an opportunity for second thoughts. The Cat ‘O Nine Tails came down on my ass, and this time I cried out. Each little leather strap stung like a bee.
‘Did you know,’ Tom asked conversationally, ‘the Cat ‘O Nine Tails was originally a form of punishment on naval vessels?’
I closed my eyes. Naval vessels were the farthest thing from my mind.
The whip came down again, harder this time.
‘A man was flogged by the quartermaster. The whole vessel voted on whether or not a man was to be flogged for some crime. It was necessary sometimes to keep honor among thieves.’
Tom hit me three times in rapid succession. I cried out with each blow. Tom yanked my head back by the hair. He whispered into my ear, even as he brought the whip down again.
‘Then they poured salt water over the wounds. Should I do that to you? Should I punish you for being such a naughty little cumslut?’
I was shaking in the restraints, frozen in place even if they hadn’t been there to hold me down. Panic tried to rise up within me and I banked it with the mantra in my head: Panic is the absence of trust. I trust him.
I slowly opened my fingers. I had dug my nails into my palms. My hands throbbed. So did my body. I was throbbing everywhere, and I could no longer find the line between pleasure and pain. They were one and the same.
‘Please,’ I murmured through the tears.
Tom didn’t make a sound, but he abruptly dropped the Cat ‘O Nine Tails. It
clattered on the floor. It looked so benign, so unlikely to inflict this
kind of pain. It looked just as benign as Tom usually did.
He stood beside me. His cock was so hard, I could see every vein throbbing with his heartbeat. His breathing was just as ragged as mine was.
‘Fuck me,’ I begged in a whisper.

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the floggers, the Cat ‘O Nine Tails, the riding crop and the cane...

To win a copy of Gwen's masterful erotic romance, post a comment - and if you want to tell us your favourite spanking instrument, in books or real life, so much the better! Any questions, the lady (hmm) herself is waiting for you to hit her with them...