Page 11 of Turn Me On (The AfterGlow #2)

rider

“Look at this!” she shouted, even though I hovered over her shoulder.

I stared at the laptop screen. A lot of black numbers on a white screen. Big numbers. “Tell me what it all means.”

“This,”—she pointed to the number in the high hundreds—“is our subscriber count.”

“Holy shit! Already?”

She pointed to another number on the screen. “Here are our impressions. And here are the views on each video that is already uploaded. The one from earlier today is doing the best, but some solo videos of me I added from a while back are doing well, too. ”

I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “That’s insane. Wait—what is that one?” I pointed to the very large figure with the dollar sign beside it.

It couldn’t be…

Her grin was so big, I could practically see all her pearly white teeth. “That’s our revenue. Everyone who has subscribed to the paid content for this first month. The club gets forty percent, but that still leaves us with a healthy chunk.”

My jaw dropped. “That’s…that’s more than we make in three months of work. I don’t understand how. It’s only been a few hours.”

She shrugged. “The newsletter? People sharing? I’ve been running advertisements, too. So, whatever it is, let’s hope it keeps going.”

I dropped my hands to her shoulders and squeezed. “This is amazing, babe.”

“Do you think you’d be up for maybe filming another video…now? I could get it edited and put up fairly quickly.”

“Yes!” I answered before the last word had left her lips.

She chuckled. “I’m worn out from earlier, but maybe we could do some impact play instead? Give my pussy a break, and get the memory of Brad out of my brain at the same time.”

“I would freaking love that, babe.”

She whirled around in her chair and rocketed out of her seat. “Give me a minute to set up a few cameras and then we can get going, okay?”

“I’ll get the toys. Are you feeling more sting-y or thudd-y tonight?”

She hummed. “Definitely want the sting.”

Rooting around in the middle drawer of the dresser, I pushed aside the paddle and flogger and opted for a riding crop, a bamboo cane, and an evil stick.

My favourite thing to use was my hand, of course.

Nothing like the sharp slap of my palm on her dimpled skin to get me going, but these were fun, too. I set each option on the bed in a row.

“Ready?”

She nodded, stripping off her robe and taking her place on the horse-style bondage bench. “Everything is recording. We’re good to go.”

Her breasts spilled over the top as she pressed her body down. In this position, it was almost like having her on all fours, but her legs and arms were supported by two lower rungs, while her body laid across the padded top part of the bench.

I needed to wrap each leather binding around her ankles and wrists to secure her in place. Not everyone bound their partner to the bench. Many people just laid on top of it, but Charlie tended to pull away, and the straps helped her stay anchored both in body and mind.

Kneeling on the ground beside her, I trailed my fingers down the supple skin of her thigh and around her calf.

When I got to her ankle, I pulled the strap around it carefully.

Threading the metal prong through the hole to secure the hold.

She wiggled her toes as I checked the hold, her pretty emerald nails glinting in the low light—the same colour as her eyes.

I did the same to her other ankle before moving to her wrists.

With these, I allowed slightly more leeway, allowing her to pull up to her elbows if necessary.

I tightened the first cuff and lifted her elegant fingers to my lips.

Her nails were the same deep shade of emerald.

I sucked one of her fingers into my mouth and swirled the tip of my tongue around it.

She hummed her approval as I moved to the next finger—sucking, licking, biting. I continued with each one until she was murmuring her approval into the air.

“Tight enough?” I asked, securing the last cuff.

“Yes,” she breathed, head to the side, soft cheek resting on the red cushion.

Her thighs were spread wide, ass in the air, waiting for me to do as I pleased.

I took a moment to feast on her with only my eyes.

The cushioned flesh over her muscles, the delicate weight of her belly pressed against the surface of the bench, the softness of her inner arms exposed for me to play with.

Her giant red curls, mussed from our night together, fell in tangles around her face.

An absolute goddess. My thick woman, built to handle me in every single way. She’d never looked more beautiful.

No matter how hard she struggled or pulled, she wouldn’t be able to get away. Not without me.

“Let’s get you out of your head and back into your body,” I mumbled, picking up the riding crop and giving myself a test snap on my palm.

She bristled in anticipation, shifting slightly on the bench.

I struck her ass with a quick flick and she jumped. “Breathe through it. Remember, you can use your safewords to tell me where you’re at.”

She nodded.

I struck her again, lower this time, right on the ample curve of her backside. The sound reverberated through the room and went straight to my cock.

“More,” she directed.

I snapped it on the other cheek and her ass tensed for a few seconds before relaxing. I flicked her again. And again. And again.

“ Fuck ,” she cried out, pulling against the straps on her wrists.

“Colour?” I asked, my cock now at half-mast.

“Green.”

The red welts on her ass looked like violent lipstick stains. “What are we at, babe?”

“Six,” she exhaled.

“How many more?” I said, low and controlled, stroking myself lazily with my free hand.

“Four.”

“That’s right, pretty girl. Count them out for me,” I commanded.

Pulling back ever so slightly, I snapped the crop against her soft, milky skin again, and it rippled under the leather tip.

“Seven.”

Again.

She gasped.“Eight.”

I swung the crop back to her other cheek and struck hard. She wailed out a nine before I landed the last slap.

“Ten.”

Always so tough, even when she didn’t need to be. I stepped forward and ran my hands over her ass, soothing the angry marks gently with my palms, rubbing out the hurt. I teased the tip of my cock at her asshole, circling it around the tight ring.

“Do you need a break?” I murmured.

“No.” She inhaled through her nose and blew the breath out slowly through her lips. “No, I’m good. That feels good.”

“Mm,” I hummed, crossing to the bed and tossing the crop on top. I opted for the bamboo cane next.

Rigidity was important when it came to impact play. The more flexible the cane, the more sting it created. This bamboo had a decent amount of flexibility, meaning it had less of a firm, intense sensation and more of a bite.

My favourite thing to do with a cane was strike the back of her thighs. She was cushioned there, and her skin billowed under each slap. With every hit, the most gorgeous red line was left on her flesh, forming tiger stripes all the way down her thigh. My wild animal. My woman.

This time, I didn’t ask her if she was good to go. I just struck.

“Fucking hell,” she moaned, burying her head in the cushioned surface of the bench. “Does it always hurt that much?”

I chuckled, dick fully hard with the sound of that last little moan. “You tell me.”

“Maybe after this, I do a little impact play on you. Then you can tell me ,” she quipped.

“Whatever you want, babe.” I snapped the cane further down her thigh and she squealed. “I’m down. ”

I struck her one more time on the same thigh, creating three perfectly pink stripes. Normally, I’d do ten of each with whatever instrument we were using, but it had already been a long night, and she was squirming against the bench in a way that told me she was feeling it.

“Colour?” I asked.

“Still green.”

My forehead scrunched. “You sure?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I like it. It’s just prickling more than usual.”

I soothed my palm over the stripes, rubbing them down before starting on her next thigh.

“Three more. Count.”

Her body tensed before I’d even lifted my hand, so I waited until her muscles relaxed and her body was loose before slapping the bamboo against the plush curves I adored so much.

“One,” she gasped.

I hit her leg again.

“Two.”

I brought the final strike down with intention, marking her as mine. Making the last tiger stripe the most prominent on her body .

“Three!” she yelled, straining against the restraints.

“Colour?”

“Yellow,” she whispered.

I dropped the cane to the floor immediately and bent over the bench, cradling her to my front the best I could manage. She needed time to process. A pause.

I kissed the back of her shoulder blades before nuzzling my chin into the crook of her shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. Such a good fucking girl being so honest. We can stop any time.”

“I know. I’m okay. Just let me breathe for a minute.” She steadied herself, timing her breaths while I held her.

A responsible partner was a partner who communicated. Who was able to use the safe words and count on the person they were with to follow. If she was uncomfortable, or it was too much, I had no problem slowing down or stopping.

“We don’t have to keep going, babe,” I murmured.

“One more. Give me one more. The hurt feels good. ”

“Good enough to handle another instrument?” I prodded.

She nodded against the bench. “I finally feel like I’m back in my body and out of my head. I just need one more. One big one.”

“Whatever you need.”

I backed off, swiping the evil stick from the duvet and standing to the side of the bondage bench. Though small, the carbon fibre stick packed a wicked punch, hence the name. It would get a huge reaction from Charlie and give her the last mean bite she was craving.

She exhaled loud and slow. “I’m ready.”

The doughy inside of her upper arm was the perfect place for the final strike.

I pulled back the rubber-coated tip of the rod and let it go.

It snapped on her flesh, instantly leaving a red welt, and she squealed so loudly, it echoed around the room.

Her fingers and toes flexed and strained before finally relaxing.

My cock leaked pre-cum. I couldn’t help it.

The way she groaned and squeaked and writhed against the bench always got me going.

Strapped down, ass on display, curves spilling over every edge.

Yes, there was a benefit to the impact play for her—calming her mind, centering her—but there was for me, too.

A physical benefit. A rock hard fucking dick.

“I need you,” she purred.

I threw the stick over my shoulder and it clattered to the floor.

Working the restraints as quickly as I could, I released her one limb at a time.

When she was free, she gingerly climbed off the bench and into my arms. I settled on the floor, leaning against the edge of the bed frame, while she curled up in my lap.

“Thank you, Rider,” she said on a sigh.

I held her close to my chest. “You’re welcome, babe.”

Her warm body against mine was the thing dreams were made of. All I wanted to do was hold her, here, for the rest of the night. If that’s what she wanted, of course. I would die a happy man with her in my lap, naked and raw.

“We need to do something about this,” she said, wiggling her ass gently against my erection.

“No, we don’t. You need to take some time. ”

She looked up at me with her eyes half-lidded. “Making you feel good will make me feel good.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, ready for literally anything she could possibly have in mind.

Crawling out of my lap, she grabbed the riding crop off the bed and said, “Lay on the floor. I’m going to show you what you’re missing.”