The Whip and the Chair
By Winterheart ©2008
ESN ID 14412-080901-612570-85

Nick Diamond had been painting Ione Alexander for a week before he noticed that there was something different about her. She stood on the dais in his studio, completely nude and totally still. Her face was turned away from him, her long auburn hair spilling over one creamy shoulder and down her back to her waist. He’d been so into his work for the past few days that he had never noticed that she never needed a break.

He paused in mid-brush stroke, as the thought occurred to him. He tilted his dark head to one side, staring at her. She was so still she didn’t even look like she was breathing. He tapped the rounded wooden end of the paintbrush against his full bottom lip. That was very odd.

He set the brush down and stepped away from the canvas. “I’m going to the kitchen. I need a drink,” he told her, keeping his voice normal as his eyes watched her every move. Well, if she’d had a move, that is.

He reached the kitchen doorway, looking back at her once more. Finally, she moved. Her hair rippled as her head turned, and her smoky eyes met his.

“Are you okay, Nick?” Her voice was low, and slightly concerned. “You never drink while you’re working.”

His jaw tightened. She’d studied his habits while he’d been working. That was unnerving. Especially when it had taken him a full week to notice that there was something unnatural about her stillness.

“I’m fine. Had a little too much wine last night so I’m dehydrated,” he muttered and ducked into the kitchen.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and unscrewed the cap. He took a long swig from the bottle as he returned to the studio. She still hadn’t moved. Her body was completely still. A frown knitted his brows. His theurgic senses were pinging like crazy now. That stillness was more than unnatural, it was preternatural. She was immortal.

Nick set the water bottle on the floor near his easel and picked up his brush again. When he looked back at the dais, Ione was perfectly in place. He set aside his unease and began to paint. Two hours later, he cleaned his brushes as Ione dressed. He was still out of sorts, although there was really no reason for him to be. Just because she was immortal didn’t mean anything. Immortals needed money just like anyone else did.

When Ione stepped out from behind the screen that hid the closet where she’d hung her clothes, his eyes were drawn to the delicate high heels on her narrow feet. They were not cheap shoes. In fact, now that he was really looking at her, he realized that her clothes were all designer clothes. That meant that the job was not the reason she was here.

He bit the inside of his cheek, to keep from sneering at her. He’d had people lie to get close to him before. Usually, they weren’t very subtle. Usually, he didn’t even need his theurgic senses to pick up on the fact that someone was playing him. He schooled his expression into one of cool disinterest.

Ione came closer, her head tilted to one side. “You usually have my fee out by now. What’s wrong, Nick?” she said quietly, her smoky eyes steady on his face.

“You don’t need the money, so why do you care?” he asked sardonically, unable to stop himself.

Her eyebrows arched up. “Since when did my monetary needs have anything to do with earning my fee?” She stepped closer to him, and he barely kept himself from stepping back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Nick’s jaw clenched hard. “You’re not human,” he stated baldly.

A resigned expression crossed her beautiful face. “So? You needed a naked body. You never said it had to be human,” she pointed out reasonably.

“If you’re immortal, then you know what I am.” His eyes held hers, looking for any sign that she was going to lie to him.

She shrugged carelessly. “Yeah. You reek of magic. But that’s not why I was drawn to you.”

Drawn to him. Her words shocked him. They were the words a woman used when she wanted a man. Now, he was even more certain he was being played. He was outraged, yet unable to just cut her loose. Besides the urge to paint her, the tug at his groin wasn’t something he could easily ignore. His eyes narrowed speculatively.

“What are you?” he asked abruptly, needing to know just what she was so that he could more easily figure out what was going on between them.

She shifted foot to foot, but her eyes didn’t waver from his. “What does it matter?” she asked softly.

“You’re not a vampire. You’re out in the daylight,” he tossed out, pressing for an answer.

She shook her head. “Your idea of vampires is completely wrong. They can go out in the daylight. They’re the people you see bundled up with a hat or hood on. They get sunburned easily like an albino. The sun doesn’t kill them,” she explained in a gentle tone that made him feel like she was humoring him.

“Then, what are you? A fairy? A pixie? An elf?” He threw the choices at her, annoyed with her tone, but determined to know what she was and why she was here. He felt off kilter, and didn’t like it.

She shook her head again. “I’m not fae.” Another sigh escaped her. “If I tell you why I’m really here, will you stop asking me what I am?”

Nick stared at her, taken aback by her bluntness. He wondered if the deal she offered him would be worth it. Maybe if he knew what she wanted, he could buy the time he needed to discover what she was. Knowing what a being was held the clue to how to protect yourself from them.

“Okay,” he agreed, folding his arms over his t-shirt clad chest.

“I was at the Wizard’s Club one night and I heard someone talking about you,” she began, her eyes still holding his. Their smoke grey depths shone with honesty. It was an expression Nick didn’t exactly trust. “They said you were a master with a whip.”

Nick stiffened. He wondered who had been talking about him. It wasn’t unheard of for people to whisper about him and his proclivities, but it was unheard of at the Wizard’s Club. One of his closest friends, Drake Keating, owned the club and gossip about any of the wizards was frowned upon.

“Why would that talent matter to you?” he asked her, watching her reactions to his words.

“Have you ever heard of the Cult of Orthia?”

Her words were so soft he could barely hear them. And they shocked him to the core.

“The Sanctuary of Artemis Orthia? In Sparta?”

She nodded briefly, her face giving nothing away. Nick was taken aback. The cult was ancient. It preceded a lot of religions and certainly preceded the lifestyle he had been immersed in for the past twenty years. It was a religion characterized by ritual flagellations of its members.

He sat down on a stool and stared at her. Unlike the submissives he often flogged, her eyes were locked on his instead of cast down. She was obviously not a sub. With a twinge of surprise, he felt his cock decidedly stir. The earlier tug he’d felt was obviously not an aberration. It had been a long time since anyone who wasn’t a sub had aroused him.

“So you want me to flog you?” he asked, lifting one brow inquiringly.

She shook her head, her silky auburn hair rippling. “I am no submissive. I do not take part in the lifestyle. This is a deeply religious thing for me, Nick. I require whipping on a regular basis as part of my prayers,” she said quietly. “My blood is my sacrifice to Artemis.”

Her words were soft, but emphatic. There was a preternatural glow to her eyes when she spoke of whipping as part of her religious rituals. It made him wonder if she enjoyed the pain. Then he recalled her words about the lifestyle. She was not a sub nor was she a masochist. This was just part of her religion.

Usually, Nick wasn’t one to make off the cuff decisions. However, he’d made one the moment he’d met Ione. He’d wanted to paint her the instant he’d laid eyes on her. Now, she’d made a request of him and was awaiting an answer. At first, he didn’t think he had one. He’d never flogged anyone who wasn’t a full on sub. He didn’t know how he would feel whipping Ione when he knew that she would look him in the eye when he was done.

Still, he found himself uncharacteristically opening his mouth and saying, “Okay. When do you want to start?”

Her eyes finally fell from his. She nodded her acceptance. “Tomorrow. Before I pose for you?”

Nick shot to his feet, his heart suddenly pumping in overtime, as he realized that there was no way she could understand what he did with a whip. “Ione, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” he said with an apologetic shake of his head. “If you’re going to pose for me, I can’t flog you first. The whip will leave marks on your flesh.”

A strange little smile curled her lips. “Don’t worry, Nick. I’m immortal, remember? You don’t need to worry about marks,” she murmured and turned for the door.

He stared at her retreating back in shock. What the hell was she talking about? Even immortals bled! “Hey! What about your fee?” he called out as she reached for the doorknob.

She glanced back him, her smoky eyes glowing. “Tomorrow. I need to go home and prepare for the ritual.”

When she’d gone, Nick went to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He gulped it down, then stared into the empty cut crystal glass. He’d done a lot of odd things in his life and met a lot of odd people. However, Ione took the cake. One moment he’d been painting her, so immersed in his work that he hadn’t even looked at her as if she were a living breathing being. Then, oddly, it struck him that she didn’t seem to be a living breathing being after all. And finally, he was now totally in lust with her, and even though she wanted him to flog her, she was not a sub.

Nick felt confused. He needed some perspective. As usual when that happened, he walked out of his penthouse loft, crossed the hall to the other penthouse loft and knocked on the door. Drake Keating answered it wearing boxers and nothing else. Nick wasn’t surprised by his state of undress. It was sunset, which meant Drake had just woken up.

“What’s up, Nick?” He stepped back as Nick brushed past him into the loft.

“Drake, someone was talking about me at the club.” He padded barefoot across the pale wood floor, coming to a stop next to a very big Venus Flytrap plant. He looked at it and shuddered, moving away.

Drake shut the door and moved to sit on the leather sofa. He closed the newspaper that was open on the coffee table and picked up a mug of coffee, sipping from it as he looked thoughtfully at Nick. “About your art? Or… something else?” he asked finally.

Nick threw out his hands. “What do you think? I encourage people to talk about my paintings. The other stuff, the lifestyle, what I am theurgically… Never.” His words were firm and emphatic. He didn’t like anyone talking about the fact that he was a Dom or about his magical abilities.

“How do you know that someone did?” Drake’s expression was inquiring. If someone on his staff was gossiping, he’d handle it. If it was a customer, well, that required more finesse.

Nick’s eyes drilled Drake’s. “Ione, the girl who has been posing for me this week, she said she overheard someone at the club talking about me being a master of the whip.”

That was not a good thing. Drake set his mug down and sat back. “Customer or staff?” he asked bluntly.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask her.”

A shrug lifted Drake’s broad shoulders. “I’ll look into it and handle it. It shouldn’t happen again,” he said in a voice that brooked no quarter.

Nick moved farther away from the Venus Flytrap, sitting on the edge of a chair across from Drake. “She’s not a sub, Drake,” he said the words softly, and his friend looked up startled.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna…?” Drake’s eyes took on an expression of astonishment.

Nick’s shoulders shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I’m gonna flog her. And yeah, afterward, I’m gonna paint her. If I’m lucky, I’ll fuck her after that. She’s the hottest thing that’s crossed my path in the last year,” he said, with a little shake of his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was even contemplating being with Ione.

Drake frowned. “But she’s not your type, Nick. Why are you stepping out of your comfort zone?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted candidly. “I can’t remember the last time I was aroused by a woman who wasn’t a sub.” His expression turned wry as he looked at his friend. “C’mon, Drake. When your dick tells you to fuck someone, how much attention do you pay to your comfort zone?”

A reluctant grunt of assent came from Drake. As Nick well knew, when Drake was horny, he’d fuck whoever got his dick hard, be it male or female. Drake was an equal opportunity lover. The lines he didn’t cross were not gender oriented but relationship oriented. He didn’t touch his employees or their relatives, friends, or lovers. He didn’t encroach on anyone’s relationships even if they had open marriages or arrangements. In actuality, Drake was as finicky as Nick himself was, both of them preferring to stick to a certain type of partner who knew where the lines were drawn and never crossed or blurred them.

However, Nick’s words hit home with Drake because of a girl, an immortal who was part werewolf and who had natural theurgic talents. Drake had been teaching Keir, had been her instructor in the ways of the therugic arts, known to the public as magic. While they were working together, Drake had been convinced she was his mate. Then one day, something had happened to change Drake’s mind. He had broken things off with Keir on a physical level, even though he continued to instruct her. Later, he’d told Nick that he had discovered who Keir’s true mate was. Breaking out of his comfort zone had shaken Drake, so it was no wonder he was cautioning Nick about doing the same.

“You don’t want to run your life based on the things I do,” Drake muttered with a grimace. “I’m not a good role model.”

He and Nick looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then they both grinned. Drake stretched out his arms along the back of the couch, as Nick stood up and went to the door.

“I’ve never been good at following the norm. Why should this be any different?” Nick said with a rueful shake of his head. He glanced back at Drake, his emerald eyes meeting Drake’s pale blue ones. “Wish me luck, buddy.”

Drake nodded slowly. “Oh, I do, Nicholas, although I’m not entirely sure you need it. I’ll take care of the loose lips. Enjoy your flogging.”

Back in his own penthouse, Nick stared at the half finished painting of Ione. He thought about the first time he’d seen her, standing at the bar at the Wizard’s Club. She’d been cool and aloof. The crowd was close around her, yet she seemed untouched by them. He’d maneuvered closer and their eyes had met. She stared at him unblinking until he’d told her his name and asked her to pose for him. She’d agreed instantly and taken his card.

When she’d shown up at his loft, he’d been in a passion to paint. That obsession had dogged him for days, which accounted for the fact that he hadn’t noticed she was immortal. Now that he looked at his work, he realized that it was one of the best things he’d ever done. He’d captured her exactly. He stared at the long expanse of her back in the painting. The luminance of her skin made his cock hard, and he knew that it was going to be a long night of tossing and turning in anticipation of the next day.

Nick rose with the dawn. He hadn’t slept well, but still felt energized. After showering, and drinking half a pot of coffee, he felt ready to face the day’s activities. He opened a panel in the wall beside his dresser and looked at the different whips and floggers. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Ione or what she expected from him. He reached in and pulled out a three foot long braided leather single lash. He had longer whips, but indoors the three foot “Iditarod” single tail was perfect. He closed the panel and took the whip into the studio area of his loft.

He gave the whip a few cracks to warm up his arm. Anticipation had his muscles quivering already. He set the whip down and forced himself to go about his usual routine of checking his mail and his email, taking out his trash, and preparing his brushes and paints. The sun had been up for only an hour when his buzzer rang. Instantly, his cock twitched. Without bothering to ask who was there, he buzzed them in and went to open his door.

He stood in the open doorway, dressed in faded jeans and a loose black t-shirt, his feet bare. The elevator doors opened, and Ione walked toward him. She was dressed down today in jeans and a green t-shirt. When she reached him, neither of them said a word. He stepped back, and she entered the loft.

By the time he had locked the door, she was naked, standing on the dais in the studio. The only thing she wore was an ornate ring on the forefinger of one hand. She kept twisting it, as if she needed to touch it.

Nick picked up the whip and walked over to her. He let the leather stroke over the soft skin of her arm, watching the gooseflesh that rose as it passed.

“Are you ready?” he asked her softly, a little unsure of himself because this was out of his element altogether.

She nodded. “You must draw blood, Nick. Do not be afraid to do so. The ritual is not complete without the blood sacrifice,” she told him, her eyes holding his.

He shifted on his bare feet, uncomfortably aware that he had no clue what to do other than wield his whip. “You need to tell me what you want, what you need. This is not my… milieu,” he admitted, his voice slightly hesitant.

Ione knelt on the drop sheet that covered the floor of the dais, sitting with her legs folded beneath her. She stretched her hands out before her and murmured a few unintelligible words. Then she said, “I will tell you when I am ready. At my word, you must whip me until my blood runs freely. Only then will my sacrifice to Artemis be complete. It should take no longer than five minutes.”

Nick’s eyes widened. Five minutes was a long time with a whip like his and delicate skin like hers. Still, he stood ready, whip in hand as she began her ritual. Her voice was at first a monotone, chanting words in a language he didn’t know. As it rose in volume, the chanting became singsong in nature, like a prayer. Ione twisted the ring repeatedly around her finger, but when Nick looked more closely, he realized that she was turning it systematically. Two turns in one direction, three in the other. Then one turn and two. The patterns were obviously familiar to her because she executed them so quickly there was no way she was counting.

Finally, she rose to her knees and planted her hands on the drop sheet covered wall. Her arms were outstretched, her hands above the level of her head. The ring on her forefinger was glowing with a strange red pulse that made Nick’s stomach clench. His grip tightened on the whip as Ione whispered, “Now, Nick.”

She began to chant softly again, and despite her command, Nick hesitated. She looked so delicate kneeling there. Her position was unlike any he had ever used with a sub before and he felt off kilter.

“NOW!”

The guttural growl startled him. He uncoiled the whip. Crack! The braided lash snapped, leaving a red welt across Ione’s back.

“AGAIN!”

The growl had a preternatural echo to it and a shiver went down Nick’s spine. Then, as he looked at her, the first lash mark faded to pink. He blinked, stunned. Crack! He hit her again. And again. By the time the lash struck her a fourth time, Nick had found his rhythm. He flogged her until the welts on top of welts began to look raw. Then he saw a trickle of blood.

Uncharacteristically, he began to put more power into each blow and aimed each one directly at that trickle of blood. By the time the five minutes were up, blood ran freely down Ione’s back. Her chanting rose to a peak and then stopped. Nick lowered his arm, setting his whip aside. He wanted to run over to her, but was unsure of himself.

Ione knelt facing the wall. Her unusual ring was no longer giving off a red glow. Her head hung down between her arms, her hair trailing to the floor in front of her. She looked as if she were held by invisible bonds, immobile and silent.

Nick’s heart was pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. What he was afraid of, he had no idea. As he stared at Ione’s bloody back, he noticed that the bleeding was stopping. He watched, wide eyed, as the bleeding stopped, and the welts began to heal. They went from red to pink to white and then faded altogether. He sucked in a startled breath and took a step back.

Ione stood and turned to face him. Her face was smooth and composed, but her eyes glowed with a light he had never seen before. Her naked body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Her beauty struck him anew as his cock began to throb. She stepped off the dais and came toward him.

“Are you sure you want to paint me now?” she whispered in a seductive tone.

With shaking hands, Nick threaded his fingers into her long hair. “No. I want to fuck you now,” he muttered, mesmerized by the aura of sultry sexuality she gave off.

She smiled and wound her slender arms around his neck. “Then do it.”

Her head tilted back, and Nick bent to kiss her, his mouth finding her soft lips in a fierce kiss. A moan erupted from the back of his throat as his tongue slipped between her lips to taste her mouth. A shiver went down his spine as his cock went rock hard. He ground his hips against her, letting her feel his erection. Her hands burrowed beneath his t-shirt, her fingers dancing over his hard chest and abdomen. Nick let go of her head and broke the kiss long enough to reach down and yank off his shirt. Ione slipped her hands into the waistband of his jeans and popped the buttons open.

When the jeans hit the floor, she knelt and took his cock into her mouth, licking and sucking it with abandon. Nick’s eyes rolled back into his head. Her mouth was like wet fire, and her tongue hit every nerve ending he had. He felt like his skin was on fire, he was so turned on by her.

Ione’s hands stroked up the outsides of his thighs as she sucked him, her auburn head bobbing with her movements. Her tongue slithered and slurped at him while her mouth provided suction. The gliding motion of her lips on his hard flesh made him incoherent with lust. Her long fingers found his balls and she cupped them, squeezing gently. Nick groaned out loud. She was turning him inside out and all he could think about was how much he wanted to fuck her.

He pumped into her mouth a few times, and she let him. Her eyes told him that she knew how much he loved fucking her face. When he stepped back, his cock sliding wetly from her mouth, she sat back on her heels, then leaned back on her hands, her pale pink nipples pointing at him. Nick drew a deep breath. This was more vanilla than he had had in twenty years. It certainly wasn’t his usual sex. The flogging hadn’t turned him on. She had.

He knelt between her thighs, his eyes drawn to her wet pink folds. She was waxed, hairless, and visibly wet. He touched her lightly with his forefinger, rubbing the slick wetness over her swollen flesh. She shivered and a little moan escaped her. He placed his hands on her silken thighs and pressed them apart. Her folds parted, showing him the swollen bud of her clit. He bent and blew on it. With a little scream, she came.

Her skin rippled. Her hips jerked. Her head flew back, exposing the white column of her throat. Her nipples darkened to rose. Nick watched in awed silence, his cock so hard it hurt. He waited as she rode out her orgasm. As soon as the tremors eased, he moved forward, his thighs spreading hers wider. He rubbed the head of his cock over her sensitive clit and she choked back a cry. Then, with a single stroke, he slid deep within her. Her muscles clenched around him and he closed his eyes, fighting for control.

She was so tight and hot and wet around him that he was afraid he wouldn’t make it. He started to mutter a quick incantation, but stopped himself. What he was, and what she was, had no part in what they were doing at the moment. He cupped her hips in his hands and began to thrust into her. She braced her feet on the wood floor and pushed herself into each thrust. Nick leaned over and nipped at her stiff nipples, causing her to shudder with pleasure. He sucked a nippled deep into his mouth and little whimpers emerged from her throat. He moved to the other nipple and she began to rake her nails down his back.

Heat enveloped his groin and a red haze of pure unadulterated lust rose in him. He slammed his cock into her harder and harder. She clutched at him with her fingers, imitating how her internal muscles clung relentlessly to his cock. Sweat sheened his skin and her hands slipped in it as she tried to hold onto him. Nick tilted her hips up off the floor as he rose up, wrapping her thighs around him as he held her firm buttocks and pounded into her.

The loft was filled with the sounds of their sex. The wet sucking sound of each thrust. Hushed breaths and cut off groans. Little moans and pants. The soft rushing sound of their out of control breathing. Nick’s senses went into overdrive. His muscles began that little quiver that indicated that his orgasm wasn’t far off. Beneath him, Ione was writhing. It was obvious she was about to come again.

He reached between them and flicked his fingertip across her clit. Her body stiffened for a split second and then she screamed, her body convulsing. Her tight, wet sheath clutched him so tight he could barely thrust. He felt his balls tighten as her nails dug into his forearms. The heat grew at the base of his spine. He pushed into her fiercely and let his orgasm explode. A sharp cry broke from him as he slammed into her and filled her with his cum.

Nick collapsed on Ione, his body trapping her between him and the hard wooden floor. They were both gasping for air, their bodies still twitching from the aftermath of their orgasms. Ione was shaking. Nick could feel it. He didn’t think it was a bad shaking, but he wasn’t sure. As soon as he caught his breath, he levered himself off of her, rolling onto his back on the floor, his chest still heaving a little. He turned his head and looked at her.

She was sprawled on the floor, her skin damp, the marks from his fingers already fading in the way that remarkable regenerative skin of hers had. He got up and bent to scoop her up in his arms. He carried her into the bathroom and set her down, keeping one arm around her while he turned on the shower. When he had the temperature of the water just right, he lifted her in and stepped in behind her. Ione rubbed a bar of soap in the smattering of hair on his upper chest. He grinned at her and kissed the tip of her nose. They washed each other playfully and then dried off.

Nick was lying on his bed watching her dry her long hair while they talked a little about his work and different places they’d visited. When she was done with her hair, she wandered around his bedroom as they talked. Nick watched the fluid movements of her body and wondered how many more times he would get to fuck it. Then he stiffened as she noticed something pink in the corner of the room, almost hidden by the decorative drapes. She pulled out the inflatable pink chair and stared at it wide eyed.

“What’s this?” she asked as she walked around it.

“It’s a chair,” he replied gruffly, feeling almost embarrassed, as she touched the hard pink rubber dildo that was attached to the seat.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her smoky eyes curious. “Who uses it?”

Nick sighed and sat up. “I have. It’s not really my thing though. My last girlfriend left it here. She used to ride it all the time. When I protested that she fucked the chair more than me, she made me try it.” He felt a sting over his cheekbones and knew there was a bit of color staining them. What straight guy admitted to enjoying being fucked in the ass with a dildo anyway?

Ione pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I thought you were into that whole BDSM thing? I thought you were a Dom,” she said, tilting her head to one side a little as she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

“I am. That doesn’t mean I never have girlfriends. My last girlfriend liked to top women too,” he explained.

“Hmmn.” She walked around the chair again then went into the bathroom, coming out with a steaming washcloth. She washed the chair carefully, removing all the dust that had accumulated on it. Afterward, she tested the tension of the vinyl. Nick knew she was thinking about trying it. After all, why would she wash it if she wasn’t going to use it?

Then Ione looked up at him. “Why is the whip such a turn on to you?” she asked. “I don’t understand that. To me the flogging means something else. I don’t understand how it could be sexual.”

Nick got up and walked over to her, pushing her long hair over her shoulder so he could lick along her collarbone. “It’s all about control, Ione,” he murmured. “To me, being in control of a woman, or a man, is exciting. I don’t fuck men, but I’ve topped them before, whipped them, and it’s turned me on. Afterward, I find a female to fuck. When I whip women, afterward I want to touch them, to feel the welts on their skin. I want to trace the welts with my tongue and fuck them until they come.”

She stared him thoughtfully, watching him lick his way down her arm to her hand. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

He looked up and nodded. “Yes. Subs have no control. They don’t do anything unless the Dom allows it. They can’t look me in the eye. They can’t come… until I say so.”

As the words left his mouth, Nick realized he had no urge to dominate Ione. Sure, he wanted to fuck her again, but he didn’t want her to submit. He didn’t want to control her. The realization hit him hard. It had been many years since he had wanted to be with a woman without controlling her.

She smiled at him and reached down to rub herself between the legs. Nick’s nostrils flared. He could smell her arousal. His cock rose.

“I’m going to fuck this chair for you,” she murmured, her eyes glowing. “What I want you to do is flog me again. Whip me while I’m riding this. I want to see if it heightens my pleasure.”

Instantly, Nick shook his head. “No way. It’s dangerous, Ione. If you’re moving, I can’t guarantee I can hit your back. If I hit something else, I might seriously injure you,” he told her, his hand coming up to cup one full breast.

Ione made a sound that was half derisive snort and half chuckle. “C’mon, Nick. You can’t hurt me. You’ve seen that already. If you strike something you shouldn’t, my body will heal it. The pain is only momentary,” she explained. “Please, Nick. I want to know what it’s like when you’re getting turned on from whipping me. I want to know what the pain feels like when it’s coupled with pleasure.”

Her eyes begged, and Nick knew he was going to give in. All his years of intense control had led to this, a game with the pink chair and his whip, to satisfy the curiosity of an immortal woman with whom he had had the best vanilla sex of his life. He went into the other room and came back with the whip. Ione was already sliding onto the chair backward, lowering herself onto the thick pink dildo while she clutched the back of the chair.

She sucked in a breath and began to rock. Nick watched her, his cock getting harder and harder as she pleasured herself with the chair. She bent over, pulling her hair forward and presenting him with her bare back. Her eyes were glowing, filled with sexual heat, as she said, “Whip me now, Nick. I want to know what it feels like.”

She cupped her breasts in her hands, tugging at her nipples. Moans erupted from her mouth and a sexual flush tinted her pale skin. Nick didn’t even have the urge to lift the whip. He was completely mesmerized, watching her get herself off. But her eyes pleaded, and he found he couldn’t resist.

He stepped back, judging the distance and the movements of her body, hoping he was making the right calculations in his head. The thought of the frayed end of the whip lashing her beautiful breast or face made his stomach churn. He knew her body would heal the wound, but he couldn’t get past a sense of horror at the thought of hurting her.

The lash sang through the air, landing across her back. She bucked on the chair. The moment she returned to her rocking motion, he hit her again. Her moans grew louder and his flogging took on a rhythm that meshed with her rocking motions. She had a dozen huge red welts across her back and was moaning incessantly when the whip cracked one last time. A trickle of blood oozed down her spine, and Nick tossed the whip to the floor, striding over to her.

Ione was fucking the chair roughly, her eyes closed, one hand viciously twisting her nipples. Her skin was flushed, and Nick could see she was about to come. He leaned down and whispered, “Come for me, Ione. Come for your master.”

Her eyes popped open, meeting his. He could see the overwhelming lust in their smoky depths. Her breath caught in her throat as she started to peak, and Nick crushed her mouth beneath his. He sucked on her tongue as she came, her body quivering and shaking. Minutes later, when she had calmed, Nick lifted his head, ending the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open again.

“Oh, Nick,” she sighed.

He smiled at her and held out one hand. She took it, stumbling a little as she tried to get off the chair. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed, where he checked her back to find that it had already healed and the blood was gone.

Nick wrapped Ione in his arms, as her heartbeat finally slowed to normal. They were silent for along while and then she said, “I can’t believe how good that felt. Will you teach me to be your sub?”

Nick let out a long sigh. He hated to tell her the truth because he wasn’t sure what would happen when he did. He turned her in his arms so that they were face to face. “Ione, I can’t. You’re just not proper sub material,” he told her gently.

She pouted. “I can be if I want to. And for you I want to.”

He shook his head. “You’re too proud. It’s not you.”

A faint glimmer of tears shone in her eyes. “I don’t want to give you up. I don’t want this feeling to end. How can I keep it, how can I be with you, if I can’t be what you want?” she husked.

For a man who wasn’t looking for a relationship, Nick wondered why he was about to step right into one. Then he looked into those pleading smoke colored eyes again and found the answer. He’d fallen for her. Hard.

He stroked a hand over her silky hair. “Ione, I haven’t lived my whole life a Dom,” he told her.

Confusion clouded her eyes. “I don’t understand, Nick. What I heard at the club, the man said this was your lifestyle. He said he’s never known you to live any other way for more than twenty years.” She swallowed and said, “He said you loved it.”

Nick went very still. He remembered having a conversation with Drake in his office the night he’d met Ione. Had that been where she’d heard him being called a master of the whip? And how the hell had she heard them talking anyway?

“How did you hear that conversation, Ione?” he asked cautiously.

Her face turned pink, and she bit her lower lip. Nick wanted to lick the pink flesh that was caught between her teeth.

“I have… certain powers… I heal instantly… and I have exceptional hearing,” she explained haltingly. “When I heard about the whip, I knew you would be the one to help me with my rituals. I’ve gone centuries without being able to perform them because I cannot find the right person to administer the flogging.”

Nick drew back from her slightly. “Are you going to tell me what you are?”

She drew a shaky breath. “Are you going to teach me to be your sub so I can please you?”

He shook his head again. “Ione, I’ve lived like this for more than twenty years. That much is true. However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t had relationships…”

She broke in, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t share you. To imagine some other woman giving you that when I cannot…” She blinked rapidly, then schooled her expression stoically. “I would rather leave now.”

She pushed at his chest, trying to break free of his grip, but Nick wouldn’t let her go. “You didn’t let me finish, Ione,” he told her soothingly. “I don’t have to live this kind of life. It’s suited me for the past twenty years, but I’m not the kind of man who HAS to be a Dom, who HAS to have this to get off. I would be perfectly happy letting you pretend to be my sub once in awhile. You see, I lived the lifestyle, but it never defined who I truly am. There’s more to me than my whip and a need to control.”

He raised a hand and sent the pink chair floating around the room. “I’m not without power of my own. I’m not without my own immortality,” he explained. “You cannot pigeonhole me by saying I am a Dom. I don’t have to have subs… but I think… I have to have you.”

Ione’s eyes began to glow and she relaxed in his arms. “Good. Because I’ve been watching you for so long, wanting to be with you,” she whispered.

Nick’s brows rose. “You’ve been stalking me?” he joked, knowing it could well be true. She was definitely a determined woman.

She laughed. “You could say that. How about I ride that chair for you again while I tell you all about it?” she teased, her face taking on a sultry sexuality that had Nick’s cock responding instantly. “You did like it when I rode the chair, didn’t you?”

Nick’s breathing went completely haywire. “Yes,” he hissed out as her long fingers wrapped around his growing erection.

She stroked him a few times, then motioned toward the floating chair. “Let it down, and we’ll see how fast the chair and I can turn you on without the whip,” she purred.

“Fuck the whip,” Nick murmured, his fingers stroking over her smooth hip.

She wriggled away, out of the bed. He snapped his fingers, and Ione caught the chair as it fell from the ceiling. Her smoky eyes met his emerald ones. “You and me and the chair?” she asked softly.

Nick got up and stalked toward her, taking the chair and tossing it aside as his hands cupped her breasts. “No. You and me. Full stop.”

His head dipped, and he kissed her again, feeling how she melted against him. It was a kind of control he’d never thought to have, and yet, it was far more satisfying than years of wielding the whip had brought him. He wondered briefly if maybe he should buy a few more of the pink chairs though. After all, he really had liked the way she’d looked when she had been riding it… just for him…