Welcome to Dungeon Crawl – the UK is gripped by Wimbledon fever, and what better way to enjoy those hot guys on the court than by reading Grand Slam! Grand Slam features Travis Connolly, the fictional world’s very own seriously sexy, number one seed who happens to have a passion for BDSM as well as tennis.
He struck again and again. Each time I flinched, fighting against my restraints and clamping my arse around the plug. He didn’t concentrate solely on my buttocks the way he did when he spanked me, instead he drifted the flogger upward to my shoulders, down almost to my knees. My thighs, I discovered, were particularly sensitive.
The pain was white-hot, electric. I was on fire. Still Travis swung over and over. My moans had turned into one long mewl. It was both pleasure and torture. My pussy was thumping with need, my nipples dragging hard on the cross, the clamps heightening the sensation in them.
As suddenly as he started he stopped. I was barely standing, my weight was hanging on the wrist supports.
“Come here,” he said, slotting in behind my burning back, his now-naked chest cool on my skin. “That’s enough for a first time with Cat.”
I released a sob. I so wanted to come. The dreamy state I was in demanded it. Endorphins raged through me and I needed pleasure, extreme pleasure to mix with my pain and take me to that special place only Travis took me.
“Don’t worry, I know what you need.” I was in his arms now, he was lifting me across the room.
The plug shifted in my bum. I groaned and tried to fret my clit. “Oh no you don’t,” he said.
“Please, Sir.” The whine in my voice was pathetic. I didn’t care. He set me on the table and lifted my feet into the stirrups.
I opened my eyes, blinked a few times even though the light was dim, and studied his face. He had a layer of sweat on his forehead, the same as when he was on the court.