WIP Wednesday - why am I talking about the Watcher once again?

Why, it's because I have an anthology cover to share! 

Happy Wednesday, lovely readers! My participation last week was somewhat shitty, but I promise you, it was in a good cause. I was having the day from hell. 

This Wednesday is going to be pretty much the same, as we all push this puppy over the hump. (Hello, mixed metaphor!) 

Anyway. Super exciting, because the second Erotic Collective anthology is almost out. The clock counts down towards Feb 1, and look! A cover. I'm actually squealing with excitement as I write this.  

Isn't that absolutely gorgeous? I think I'm in love. In keeping with the boxed set theme, it's a sick, unhealthy, obsessive kind of love. Grin. 

Okay. Enough rambling. Here's another bit out of the Watcher. I don't think I've shared this bit yet? 

***

I watched as the tip of the cane indented my flesh. Bolts of agony radiated outward from my nipple and my entire breast ached in sympathy. I gasped and exhaled through my mouth as I struggled to process the agony. My torturer kept his eyes on me and a small smile played about his lips.

He was enjoying this. My moans were an aphrodisiac to him. The sharp look of lust in his eyes; the tenting of his pants, the torturous bite of the cane on my flesh – all of these bore witness to his arousal.

My gaze flickered, just for a second to the Watcher. As always, his eyes revealed nothing.

My groans increased in volume but the push of the cane into my breast was unrelenting. Finally, after several excruciating seconds, he slowly pulled it away. My nipple stayed indented for long instants before returning to its engorged state. I looked at it and I was convinced it was bruised. What was I doing in this room? But my pussy was wet.

His arm encircled me, drawing me closer to the cane, which moved unrelentingly towards my other breast. I exhaled sharply at the slice of pain but my arms were tied up and my body was firmly in the grasp of the man in black. There was nowhere to run.

This time when the cane sank into my flesh, he added a twisting motion, twirling the cane between his fingers. I watched my areola spiral around the bamboo and I gritted my teeth as the ache intensified. My breast deformed and twisted in the hands of the man in black and I groaned and yelped. But he was unrelenting.

Once again, several seconds elapsed before the cane was removed. Once again, my nipple stayed hidden for several beats after, afraid to expose itself to even crueler fates.

The cane was presented to my mouth and my lips opened to grasp it. The man in black walked over to the carefully stocked side table and returned with a riding crop.

His hand stroked my head before tugging at my ponytail, forcing me to raise my head and look straight. The leather tip teased my bruised, throbbing nipples. Please don’t hit them, please don’t hit them, I thought frantically, but of course that’s exactly what he had in mind. The crop moved and I watched it as if in slow motion as it descended towards my breast, landing with a sharp thwack on my skin. A spot of red bloomed where it had made contact and I flinched and whimpered. One solitary tear rolled down my cheek and the man in black wiped it away with his finger.

“It’s far too early to cry, my dear.” 

***

Only 4 more days to go! I'm counting down. Lots of anticipation! 

And the other authors are here: