The Last Good Knight: Parts 1-5

“Eighteen to twenty-two. College.”

“Not many college girls are tough enough to top men. Takes a few years to get to that point.” Nora wrapped her whole hand around him and tugged.

“This college girl was a beautiful, tall, dark-haired professor in her late thirties with a wicked mind and a wickeder flogging arm.”

“Fucking a professor? I love it.”

She stroked him harder to show her approval.

“She fucked me, Mistress. I might have been inside her, but it was always at her whim and command.”

“My kind of gal. Anyone since then?” She kept stroking him, testing his endurance, his ability to keep himself from coming.

“Here and there. Only professionals since then. No one in the past six years.”

“Why not?”

He sighed heavily.

“I got married. Bad idea.”

“Worst idea I’ve ever heard. Divorced?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She wasn’t kinky?”

“Just so you know, Mistress, talking about my marriage is the best orgasm control there is. If we talk about it, I can guarantee I won’t be coming anytime soon.”

Laughing, she took the hint. She could tell there was a lot more to that story, but she didn’t press him for it. He didn’t come down to her dungeon for a therapy session. Pain and sex were on the menu tonight. They’d save the getting to know each other bullshit for later.

“Since I do want you coming at some point tonight, I’ll ask you about your ex-wife another time when I’m feeling really sadistic. For now how about you follow me...” Without letting go of him, she took a step back and led him slowly and carefully to a leather-covered kneeling bench, not unlike the kind found at prayer shrines.

“I’ll follow anywhere you lead, especially if you have my cock in your hand.”

“Stay here. I’ll get the stopwatch. We don’t want to go into overtime on the pain and miss all the fucking.”

“No, Mistress, we absolutely do not.”

She heard a bit of a drawl in his words, a bit of the Old South under his clipped military tone.

“Where are you from?” She got the stopwatch off the wall and handed it to him.

“Military brat. I’m from everywhere. But Mom and Dad are from Mississippi. I went to school around Boston, but I guess I didn’t lose their accent.”

“Boston? Did you got to Harvard?”

“MIT. Did Naval ROTC there.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Nerd. Nerds get punished around here.”

“I’m also a geek.”

“Do you read?”

“All the time. Especially since recovering from the surgery. Big, thick non-fiction books.”

“An MIT graduate and a reader? Oh, you’re really going to get it. Bend over, bookworm.”

He did as ordered and Nora picked up the solid red riding crop, the one with the steel spine. She could wield it like a cane and strike him with the length of it. That would be too easy, though. The tip of the riding crop was a divided piece of leather, four inches long and forked like a snake tongue. She’d yet to find anything that stung quite as much as this particular crop did.

“You picked the number fifty earlier so we’ll let it do double-duty. You survive fifty hits of this bitch, and I might even let you come twice tonight.”

“You spoil me, Mistress.”

“Count for me.”

She brought the viper-tongued crop tip down onto the back of his thigh.

“One.”

“Hurts more than it looks like it would, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yes, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome. Keep counting.”

By twenty, Lance’s voice had started to break. By forty, Nora started to feel a little sorry for him. But they were only ten away. The fifty sounded choked like it took every ounce of energy and every scrap of masculine pride to get that number out.

“Good man...” she purred as she ran her hand over his burning skin. “Very good.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I want to please you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“What’s our time now?”

“Five minutes.”

“Good. Bedroom. Now. Kneel facing the bed, hands on top of it, eyes closed.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Lance stood up and walked purposefully to the bedroom while Nora lingered in the dungeon gathering some bondage supplies.

When she entered the bedroom she found him doing everything as she’d instructed.