Matte, pronounced mah-tay, is the word used in some forms of martial arts to stop a fight. It’s the Japanese word for stop or wait. Sam (short for Samantha) has made a hobby out of learning the various fighting disciplines, but she also happens to be a sexual submissive. What better safeword than matte?

Sam wants to find someone to submit to who she can’t beat in a fight. She’s tried to make it work with men from the scene who know nothing about fighting, but it doesn’t feel real to her – she needs someone who can truly control her. However, after dating from the fight scene and discovering not all guys like to spank their girlfriends, she’s decided to just back away from the whole dating thing for a while… until Fate decides to step in.

Warning: This title contains graphic language, consensual BDSM, bondage, and use of toys including crops, clamps, canes, and floggers.

Excerpt:

He released her ankles from her wrists, but left her bound wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle. A rope had been thrown over the beam running over the porch, and he used it to tie her arms over her head, threading it through her cuffs and expertly knotting it. Stepping back, he dried himself while his gaze appraised her from head to toe, but he didn’t say anything. He’d taken the condom off at some point and his cock was semi-hard. Sam’s heart sped when he walked to a side table and picked up a large flogger, and adrenaline sped through her veins when he stepped behind her and out of her sight.

The rope above her didn’t let her stand flat footed — she was up on her toes and knew her calves would be hurting before this was over. The rope had a knot she could grab onto with her hands to take some of her weight, and she knew he’d done that on purpose. She wanted this, wanted to hurt, wanted him to hurt her, wanted him to own her in this way, too. He’d said he was going to flog her until his arms were tired, and that could be a very long time. It was raining harder now, a true downpour, what her grandfather would have called a toad strangler. The wind was blowing and every once in a while she felt a mist from the rain blowing through the screen of the porch. Not enough to wet her, just a warm mist on her front.

The flogger swished through the air a half-second before the leather strands crashed onto her back. He set up a rhythm right away. Swish, crash. Swish, crash. Sometimes it hit flat and the thud of it knocked her forward. Sometimes the tips landed and set her skin on fire in dozens of spots. She knew he was doing it on purpose because he kept it balanced — right flat, left flat. Then a while later — right tips, left tips. Swish, crash. Swish, crash. He spent time on her upper back and on her ass, avoiding her kidneys in between. Her muscles relaxed when the endorphins kicked in and she rode the feelings, going from dealing with the pain, to accepting the pain, to finally craving the pain and wanting the next stroke. Craving it. Needing it.

“Harder. I need more. It’s not enough, Sir. Please.” Her voice didn’t sound the way she was used to hearing it.

He stopped and walked away, then walked back. The next stroke was what she’d asked for, and it was with a different flogger. She felt the knots in this one; felt them hitting her skin and dragging across it, raising welts in their path. It was perfect, exactly what she needed. She moaned in ecstasy, and then she realized he hadn’t hit her hard the first time — he’d been testing to see how she was going to handle this flogger. Now he was putting muscle into it and the pain soaked through her psyche as she gave herself to him.

A thunderclap sounded in the distance and it was perfect, Mother Nature lashing them with rain and thunder, and Ethan lashing her in the midst of it. She grabbed onto the knot above her, raised herself up, and felt the burn in her arms as she relieved a little of the burn in her calves while the flogging went on and on in a perfect rhythm. Swish, crash. Swish, crash. Her back and ass were on fire and her body was like a lit fuse. She needed to come but had no way to do it. Yes, she did. She squeezed her legs together to try to get enough sensation on her clit to get herself off, and still the flogging continued, the knots striking and dragging. Striking and dragging. Swish, crash. Swish, crash.

The thunder and lightning were getting closer, the rain more ferocious, the warm wind misting her almost constantly now. Swish, crash. Swish, crash. She heard him yell when the thunder roared but didn’t know what he’d yelled. In between the thunder and the wind she could hear herself moaning and groaning as she gasped the humid air in and screamed it out. The pain was exquisite, The burn had turned her back and ass into a large throbbing sex organ, the caress of the flogger making her more and more raw.

She relaxed her hands, let more of her weight go to her calves once again, and then he was behind her, releasing her ankles from each other and lifting her up, sitting her down on his cock and pushing her down onto it, spreading her impossibly wild as he impaled her on his thick, hot, granite cock. She hadn’t expected it, but it was perfect, this primal claiming. She reached for the knot above her hands again, not because she needed to relieve the weight distribution anymore, she just needed something to hold into.

He fucked her like a madman. She came twice, her orgasm undulating through and over and around her as he played her body, his cock going in and out, his hands and gravity controlling where her body was.

Just as another peal of thunder reverberated against the mountain, shaking the house, the floor of the porch, the rope… he came with a roar she felt more than heard, his chest to her back, and she came with him, her orgasm rolling through her body as the thunder had rolled through the sky.

As Sam was coming back to herself, once her orgasm had finally subsided, she felt Ethan reach up and release her cuffs from the rope above her head. He slowly sank to the floor with her in his arms and gently maneuvered her onto her back, leaning over her and kissing her like a man possessed.

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