Truth Revealed (Confession Duet Book 2) Read online

  I nod, adjusting myself until I’m resting on my heels. I’m pretty comfortable now, but I can tell that sitting in this position too long would make my joints ache.

  “A lot of Doms prefer for their submissive to avoid eye contact. I’m normally one of them, but in your case, I actually enjoy looking into your eyes,” he confesses, stroking a fingertip along my jawline and making me shiver. “Eye contact is usually seen as a challenge, but with you, I’m well aware of your submissive nature and your love of absorbing information. I can see those things in your eyes. So I will not require you to look away from me.”

  A small smile tugs at my lips at his sweet admission. “I have a question, Sir.”

  He nods. “Go on.”

  “Sometimes, I find myself overwhelmed, and I do look away without doing it consciously.” I don’t know how to pose what I’m trying to ask as a question, but thankfully he knows what I’m getting at.

  “You will not be punished for looking away unless I’ve given you a specific order not to. With me as your Dom, your job as submissive is foolproof. Follow my demands, and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” he assures, and I sigh in relief.

  He walks over to the rolling table on the other side of where I perch and picks up a piece of paper before returning to face me. “This is a list of the acceptable items of clothing allowed in my playroom. When we meet next, I expect you to be wearing something off of this list, and you are to greet me here, in this position.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I agree, watching as he walks over to the footlocker by the door, opens the lid, and places the paper inside with my belongings. I had stripped down to my bra and boy-shorts when we first got here tonight, remembering his requirement to shed one more item of clothing than the first training lesson. Instead of returning to me, I follow his movement as he walks to the back wall, selecting three different items off of their hooks, and I gulp. I face forward again, my heart pounding as I stare at my clenched hands on my thighs.

  “Have you ever felt a flogger before, V?” he asks, as I see him place the three toys on the table next to my legs.

  “N-no, Sir,” I reply, annoyed with my anxiety.

  “You’ve written about them in your novels, correct?”

  “Yes, Sir. But only by using research off the internet and the demonstration videos you sent me.”

  “What I have here are three different kinds of floggers. There are countless variations when it comes to shapes, sizes, and textures. There’s a wide range of sensations they are capable of, from soft and gentle, feeling almost like a tickle or a massage, to hard and stinging. What really makes the difference in how a flogger feels are the number of tails it has, the width of the tails, and what they are made of,” he explains, and picks up one of the toys in question, handing it to me. “This one is made of deerskin. Notice how soft and wide the tails are. No matter how heavy-handed I become with this one, it would not be painful at all.”

  I run my fingers through the soft material, trying to imagine what it would feel like on other parts of my body, before handing it back to him. He sets it down and picks up another.

  “This one is made of suede. The tails are slightly narrower but longer than the first one, and it also has a lot more strips of material. This would give you more of a thumping sensation, much stronger than the deerskin. Still pretty painless though.”

  He places it in my hand, and I can feel the weight difference from the first. I slap it against my palm a couple of times, enjoying the way it thuds as opposed to stings. Seeing him pick up the last one, I trade him floggers, my lips turning downward slightly at the feel of this new one.

  “This one is made of leather. The tails are narrow and few in number. Several are braided, and a couple have knots tied at the ends. This would produce a very intense sensation, since the flogger itself would have more bite to it. Even with a gentle hand, this one would definitely be felt,” he informs darkly, his voice dropping low and sexy. Obviously, this one is his favorite. I think I know what’s coming next. This is my lesson for the night. I think he’s going to give me a choice of which one I’d like to try, but oh how wrong I actually am. “Tonight, I’ll be using all three.”

  My eyes widen, and my heart thuds just thinking about him using the third one on me. But as he leans down near my ear, his proximity makes my core clench.

  “No need to worry, my sweet. By the time I reach the leather, you’ll be begging for it. The other two are nothing but a tease,” he whispers, and my nipples pebble as his breath tickles over the sensitive skin of my neck. He leans away, takes a step back, and crosses his massive arms across his chest. “Now, hop that sexy ass off my table and bend over.”

  “Um…” I sit up straighter and look around the table. “Just like….”

  At my confusion, he holds his hand out to me once again and helps me down off the table, but instead of letting me go, I squeak as, in one smooth movement, he spins me to face the black leather surface and bends me over with a firm hand against my back, between my shoulder blades. My arms come up instinctively to catch myself as my front lands on the padded table, and my breath catches as Seven presses himself against the backs of my thighs. I feel the rough material of his black pants against the delicate flesh there, and then register the bulging erection nudging between my cheeks. If it weren’t for his pants and my boy-shorts, it would take zero effort for him to slip inside me.

  “Color?” he growls, his calloused hands running down my back and over my hips to grip my ass, spreading me open as he squeezes, making me whimper as he swivels his hips.

  Realizing I have no fear in this moment, only a bit of nerves from being surprised by his sure touch, I clear my throat so I can give him a steady-voiced, “Green, Sir.” Gone is the Dom from yesterday, who handled me as if I were made of glass. He had warned me. He made it perfectly clear that after last night, he would treat me the way a sub would normally be treated. He gave me the opportunity to ease into this, allowing me to become comfortable with his touch. And for that, I’m grateful, because being manhandled in this way has my pussy throbbing in a way I haven’t felt in a long-ass time.

  Suddenly, the cool air hits my skin as he steps away, leaving me wanting more of his closeness. But instead of mourning the loss, I take in this unfamiliar but welcome feeling of missing his touch. I want to be touched. Well… by him at least.

  I listen to his movements, and after what seems like forever, I feel him strapping something to my wrists from the other side of the table. I lift my head to see what he’s doing, and find my arms encased in bulky leather cuffs, their buckles looking strong and ominous above my dainty hands. Yet, the shackles themselves are soft and squishy, so they don’t hurt the bones in my wrists as he takes the chain between them and hooks it to a carabiner attached to the side of the table.

  “Some people’s natural reaction to being spanked, flogged, whipped, or what have you is to reach back and try to cover themselves with their hands. This could end up in an injury, and since I want to take care of my sweet little sub…” He cups my lifted chin in his hand and swipes his thumb over my bottom lip, leaning down to my eye level, even though I can’t see his behind the shadow of his mask. “I’m just taking precaution. With your hands strapped, I won’t have to worry about you trying to block me.”

  I feel like I need to respond, so I say the only thing that comes to mind. “Thank you, Sir.” His grip on my chin tightens for a moment before he gently lets me go.

  “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, so low that I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it. Either way, it has me melting into the table, a sense of fulfillment overwhelming me at pleasing him. “And our scene begins,” he tells me moments later, and I close my eyes, bracing myself for the stinging feel of a smack against my ass.

  Instead, I feel the gentle touch of Seven’s fingers tracing along the line of my panties before he swiftly removes them. The material pools at my feet, but I don’t step out of them, since he didn’t instruct me to do so. I f
eel my heart pounding between my spine and the padded table, feeling exposed yet desired as he glides his fingertips up my inner thigh.

  “Color?” he rumbles behind his mask.

  “Yellow, Sir,” I reply, fighting back the urge to clench my legs together to keep him from going any higher. I’m scared I’m going to panic again if I get close to orgasming. But I’m enjoying the tickling sensation along my thigh, so I don’t call Red.

  “Remember what we talked about, V. As your Dom, I give you permission to imagine whatever you need to get you through the scene.” I feel soft fabric against my side, along with an inferno of body heat, and when I open my eyes, I see he has bent over next to me on the table to speak directly to me, ensuring I’m absorbing his words. He braces himself on his elbow while trailing the fingers of his other hand up and down my spine soothingly while he speaks. “Our goal for the night is to allow you to enjoy your first orgasm with another person in many years. Tonight, I will make you come. But I’m depending on you to allow yourself to let go and experience it as the gift it is. If it’s your ex-husband you have to hold in your mind to get you there, then by all means, do it. Again, I promise you won’t hurt my feelings. This is all about you, my sweet.”

  I can’t imagine a better or more selfless Dom to be paired with. I can’t see any other person not only being okay with someone picturing them as somebody else while being intimate, but encouraging it, just so they could experience an orgasm without feeling guilt. I’m so lucky to have found Seven, and the realization only makes me want to please him more.

  I look into the slits of his hooded leather mask and try to convey with just two words that I’m ready for what he has planned for me tonight. “Green, Sir.”

  He nods then stands. Seeing him take one of the floggers into his hand, I close my eyes again, this time picturing Corbin’s handsome features in my mind. With the image in place, the rest of the world disappears. I can hear Seven speaking behind me, but I brush the words off and focus solely on keeping my love’s face perfectly clear.

  As the first stroke of the soft tails of the flogger brushes against my bare ass, it brings me to the here and now just long enough to be cognizant of my Dom asking me “Color?”

  “Green, Sir,” I breathe, and then allow myself to submerse in Corbin’s image once again.

  Soon, the strokes come one behind another without him pausing to ask. I’m aware of the entrancing noise the flogger makes as it whooshes through the air before caressing my flesh, but what takes up more of my consciousness is the fact my pussy is throbbing in want.

  My thighs rub together, trying to soothe the ache between them the longer the tails tease me. Across my ass, up and down the backs of my thighs, and then stroking across my lower lips, I part my legs to get closer to the flogger’s teasing touch. Suddenly, an image fills my mind of Corbin standing behind me, being the one wielding my new favorite toy, and I moan wantonly. I roll up onto my tiptoes, trying to expose more of myself to him, but suddenly, everything stops, and my brow furrows as his image wanes.

  “Moving on to the suede, my sweet.”

  With my eyes closed and my ex’s face in the center of my mind, I get the eeriest sensation as Seven’s voice transforms into Corbin’s. It’s been ten years since I’ve heard his deep, sexy timbre, but it’s like thinking of him so intently made me conjure everything about him, right down to his voice. It sends a chill up my spine just as the first stroke of the suede flogger hits my skin.

  I can feel the difference between this and the first one. Still painless, just as he’d promised, there’s just more weight behind it, and it covers more area of my body, since the tails are much longer.

  Again, as he finds a rhythm with the flogger, moving up in speed until the tails are spinning through the air in a continuous loop, I feel myself pressing into the sensation, lifting up onto my toes once more to encourage him to focus on my core. With Corbin’s mesmerizing dark eyes at the center of my mind’s eye, if he would just slap the tails a few times in a row against my pussy, I have no doubt I would come in a heartbeat.

  But he evades what I so blatantly want, and I whimper as my hips grind against the table of their own accord. My hands tug at their chains, trying to break free so I can reach down between my legs to give myself some relief, but I have no such luck. Finally, when I’m a writhing mess atop his table, just like I was under his Wartenberg wheel, I can’t take anymore.

  “Please, Sir,” I sob, squeezing my thighs together.

  “Color?” he asks, slowing his strokes.

  “I… I don’t….” I wiggle in my bonds, unable to control my fidgeting. “Green, but Yellow, Sir.”

  “I need a clearer answer than that, my sweet,” he tells me, and delivers a direct hit right to my clit.

  “Oh!” I cry, but it trails off into a moan as the delicious sensation tingles throughout my entire body.

  “Color, V,” he demands.

  “Green, Sir. Holy fuck, Green. I just need… more. Please,” I whimper, and that’s when all movement stops.

  Suddenly, I feel him press himself to my backside before he bends over me, covering me with his rock-hard body. His erection nudges against my pulsing core, and my hips unconsciously lift to fit myself more snugly against it. He moves my hair out of my face, where it had fallen during my thrashing, exposing my ear and neck to his breath, as he whispers, “I told you you’d beg for it.”

  I open my eyes just long enough to see him reach out for the leather flogger before I clamp them shut once again, not wanting to lose too much focus. With Corbin’s perfect body in my mind, his tan skin covered in tattoos over sinfully hard muscles playing across the backs of my eyelids, the first stinging stroke of the last flogger makes me shudder against the padded table.

  The new bit of pain along with the pleasure tries to center me in the here and now, just as Dr. Walker had told me, so I have to focus more intently on keeping Corbin in my head as the next blow slaps across my ass. I hiss in a breath, provoking “Color?” from my Dom, and after I sob a desperate “Green, Sir,” he continues.

  I can feel each individual knot along with every braid of the leather flogger’s tails as he takes stroke after stroke against my flesh. My ass cheeks and the backs of my thighs have now gone mostly numb, bringing my pussy into complete focus, every nerve ending inside my clit begging for release.

  I can feel wetness starting to drip down the inside of my legs, so aroused from my Dom’s teasing torture. I’m so built up, dying for relief, that I can no longer even move. No more fidgeting, no more writhing. I’ve melted into the table, trying to center all my consciousness between my legs, praying that I can just spontaneously come without having to be touched there.

  But alas, it doesn’t happen, and as I give up the notion, submitting to the idea that this will forever be the state I’m left in, a new sensation blankets me. I feel like I’m floating, yet drowning at the same time. It’s not a scary feeling though. It’s actually quite relieving, much better than the aggravation of wanting to orgasm but having no way to reach it. My love’s perfect face fills my mind once again, and his lips become the center of attention. Just as I’m about to picture kissing those delicious lips, they begin to move, and I hear his voice in my ear.

  “Ahh, there it is, my sweet. Now, relax… and enjoy.”

  Suddenly, I feel a finger begin circling my clit as two more fill my pussy. I can hear how wet I am as my Dom strokes in and out of me before massaging expertly against that special spot inside me. And with a few more circles against my exposed nub, my inner muscles clamp down on his fingers as I scream my release.

  The relief is so overwhelming that tears fill my eyes then spill over. I moan, my entire body shuddering as he halts his movement but stays inside me, allowing me to feel my pussy milking his fingers.

  “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against the back of my shoulder, and I’m still so saturated in my fantasy that his voice still sounds like Corbin’s. It’s not until he slides slowly out
of me that I open my eyes and let myself become aware of my surroundings once again.

  KEVIN VALDAPEREZ, BORN Alan Fischer. Divorced. One child. The mother has full-custody and a restraining order against Daddy Dearest. In and out of rehab too many times to count. Looking at records, he entered a treatment facility not long after my divorce from Vi. Reason: cocaine and alcohol.

  Thinking back to Vi’s recollection of her assault, she kept referring to the way he was “so strong” and “stronger than he should’ve been.” She thought it was the alcohol that had given him super strength. Negative. Alcohol would’ve made him sloppy. She had said she waited for what felt like forever for him to go to sleep, but he kept fidgeting. Alcohol would’ve made him pass out. It was the cocaine. But my sweet, innocent Vi had never been around alcohol before, much less drugs, so she would’ve had no idea Alan was in fact coked out.

  He left rehab that first time with what seemed like a new outlook on life. Changed his minor in theater arts to his major before moving to Texas. The next couple of years were a blur of him trying to make it big as an actor, getting back into drugs, when apparently he gave up being in front of the camera and decided to write his own shit. A horror flick called The Maniacal Asylum 5. I tried reading the summary, but it was so twisted and obviously birthed from being on many drugs at the same time that I gave up.