The Velvet Collar

by C. P. Mandara

  I nodded. I knew that. What a time to have a wobble, huh? I'd entirely spoilt the moment, and I didn't know what to do about it.

  "Do you trust me?" I nodded again. I would trust my husband with my life these days. We'd come a long way since Albrecht.

  "Good. Remember your safe signal. I'll check in with you frequently, okay?" I would have smiled at that had I been able to, but I had to settle for yet another nod. Mark leant in towards me and kissed the top of my head. He lingered for a while, stroking the hair at the nape of my neck, before he reluctantly released me. "Let's do this, kittykat. We'll deal with our other monsters another day. They'll still be there tomorrow."

  His hand then reached towards the inverted V of my legs, and his fingers slowly slid along my sex. They jump-started my libido pretty quickly, and bucking forward against the rope that held me, I moaned.

  "That's better. You had me worried for a minute." He made come here signals with his fingers over my clit, and it felt amazing. Then he slid them between my labia and squeezed, making me gasp. He did it over and over until my legs began to shake. When I thought I could take no more he slid a finger inside me. Just a lazy, slow pulse, but he repeated it while his mouth was feasting upon my neck. It was as if I had gone from reality into a dream world. Mark could play my body so effortlessly. It responded to him like a flower to sunlight. Whenever he was near my petals would open for him, and I could deny him nothing - nothing. I'd even been prepared to kill myself for him. If that wasn't love I didn't know what was. When one finger became two, and two became three, I began sobbing into my gag. This man had turned me into a sex addict with a simple click of his fingers. Just the smooth timbre of his voice sent waves of pleasure through me, and he was using it to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, while his tongue lapped and licked at the delicate line of my collarbone. If Mark had asked me now if I wanted to have unprotected sex I would have said yes, so it was just as well I was gagged. My husband had completely corrupted me but in all the right ways. I was truly blessed to have found him.

  "Are you ready to be whipped?" Mark's free hand came up to tweak a nipple, and I felt my eyes rolling about in my head. I desperately needed to come. Wriggling against my bonds, as if hoping that somehow they'd take pity on me and let me get closer to his fingers, I moaned again.

  "Fuck. Seeing you tied up like this and utterly at my mercy turns me on in the worst way, Jen. I could look at you for hours. You have no idea how beautiful you are, young lady. What on earth did I do to deserve you?" He tugged at my hair as his lips sought my neck, but no matter how close he got to me it wasn't close enough. I wanted more. I always wanted more.

  Releasing my hair he sighed, and slowly removed his fingers. I protested vehemently, but all he did was smile and tap my nose with his fingertip.

  "Remember that these next two days are all about punishment, kittykat. They are not about your pleasure. If you please me I might take pity on you, but that is by no means assured. So you'd better make sure you're on your best behaviour."

  He gave me one of his stern looks, that was supposed to send the fear of God into me, but these days it just turned me on all the more. Dear God, what was wrong with me?

  "So, do you think you're ready for the whip? Or should I tease you a little bit more? Considering this is going to smart I think you should be primed for it. What say we go a round or two with the magic wand?"

  Oh God, anything but that. I shook my head, not that it mattered. My husband was already off, searching for new instruments of torture, and there was nothing I could do but wait there, my poor clit pulsing with need as he planned new and utterly diabolical things to do to me.

  When Mark finally did come back it felt like he'd been gone for hours, although logic said it could only have been a few minutes. Brandishing a rabbit vibrator in one hand and a magic wand in the other he looked extremely pleased with himself, as well he might. The asshole was going to make my life miserable over the next seven days, there was no question about that, but I'd have my fun. I just needed to breathe and accept my punishment like the good little submissive I was. Ahem.

  "I found some wooden clothes pegs, kittykat. Don't they look lovely?" He opened his hand in front of my nose to display several of the mean and nasty looking things, and I let out a whimper.

  Grabbing hold of my left nipple he rubbed it gently in his fingertips, teasing it softly to life. It was a dirty trick. In a moment the poor little nub wouldn't know what had hit it, but right now it worshipped each sweet touch that was bestowed upon it, standing proudly to attention as it begged for more.

  "I love how responsive you are, kittykat. Your body blooms under my fingers, and I love watching you come to life as I play all of those sweet and extremely tempting buttons of yours."

  So would I, if I thought there was any chance of getting an orgasm. Mewling as Mark gripped the first clothes peg and tested its jaws, I waited for the inevitable.

  Bending his face over my nipple, Mark took the little bud between his teeth and bit down upon it, just a tender nip, but it was all I could do not to thrust my chest in his face. I was so aroused I would have jumped in bed with the devil. What was he doing to me?

  "Hold your breath, kittykat. It's coming." Sure enough, two seconds later the mean bite of the peg came down upon my sensitive little teat and I mewled again in protest.

  "I love those sounds you're making. In the next two days I want to hear lots of them, pet. As you won't be able to talk to me you'll have to figure out a way to communicate without words, but I have no doubt you'll come up with something, won't you?" His mouth was now bent down over my right nipple so thankfully he didn't see my scowl, but it quickly turned into a heated moan of pleasure as his tongue laved at my increasingly aroused flesh. He then pulled away, there was another sharp bite, and my body protested once more as the pain took hold.

  "There, there." He cupped both breasts affectionately and placed a kiss on each, before letting go of me reluctantly. It wasn't for long. It took him only a few seconds to grab a vibrator, and then he was back to create as much mischief and mayhem as he could.

  The man played with my pussy for hours, using every trick in the book. The rabbit came first, and he pressed it over all of my hotspots, which included my labia, my clit, and the tight little hole at my rear. Then he began pulsing it against me and inside me, shallow, tiny thrusts that did little except drive me insane with need. My hips were bucking up and down in torment, but he took no pity on them. When he'd exhausted the batteries of one toy he simply broke out the next, and when I saw the wand I wanted to cry. He knew it too.

  "Three nods for your safe signal, Jen. Want to call it a day?"

  Mark felt sure he had me because he stared at me for the longest time. He should know by now that I was made of sterner stuff. I would make it through my seven days, somehow, and if I passed out through exhaustion within that time I'd never let him forget it. Hah! Giving him a steely look I waited for round two to commence.

  "Suit yourself," he said, clearly amused.

  The wand was plugged in and switched on. The sound of the vibrations were audible in the concrete room, and my body shuddered in anticipation. He tapped it against his palm as his eyes roved all over my body. I'm pretty sure I melted into a puddle on the floor because my limbs suddenly felt boneless.

  "Hmm. Where shall I begin?" There was no disguising the wicked glint in his eye, and I knew I was about to suffer far more in the next few minutes than I would when he began whipping me. Pleasure, or its denial, can be far more cruel than pain. Take my word for it.

  Over the course of the next forty minutes or so, I won't tell you the number of times I desperately wished I could close my legs. Being strung up and splayed out is a fantastic way to turn a girl on, but you can have too much of a good thing. The wand had been pressed against every available inch of my flesh, sometimes in a long and sensuous dance, and other times as a mere whisper of sensation. Mark's aim, at a guess, was to make all my nerve endings stand on en
d for what was to come next. He didn't stop there, though. The wand dipped between my legs and with a generous helping of lubricant, slipped backwards and forwards in a heavenly dance. Keeping the vibrations on low, to begin with, he drove the wand in endless circles until I wanted to scream at him to stop. When he turned the vibrations up and concentrated his efforts in one place I wanted to scream exactly the opposite. I already knew I wasn't getting what I wanted, but that didn't stop a girl from a hoping, pleading and inwardly begging for a miracle.

  The one really annoying thing about my husband was that he could read me so effortlessly. As soon as I approached anything close to an orgasm he'd turn the wand off and grin at me. How did he do that? How did he know? Was there some kind of secret tell I was giving him? It drove me insane.

  After he'd played this prank on me five times I was utterly exhausted, and he knew it. I was hanging limply from my bonds, sweat pouring down my body, and I was trembling uncontrollably. If he wanted to whip me he'd better hurry up and get on with it because I was either going to pass out or fall asleep on him. I wasn't quite sure which.

  Thankfully Mark had decided the same thing, as he chose that moment to disappear on one of his mysterious trips. If he was getting more toys I swear to God I was going to castrate him when I got my chance to tie him up. Let's see how he liked being on the other side of the fence for a change.

  When he came back there was a carton of juice in his hands and a cereal bar. Unbuckling my gag he held a finger up to remind me there was to be no talking.

  "Just a quick refuel stop, kittykat." He patted my head affectionately, and somehow I managed to stop myself rolling my eyes. I needed to remember that I was on my best behaviour for the next seven days if I wanted my prize, and I am never one to back down from a challenge. Right now it would be a good idea to get into character and start purring. That would, at the very least, shock the hell out of him.

  Downing the juice greedily, Mark then fed me bite-sized chunks of my snack. Licking his fingers, as well as my treat, I watched as he began to tease me by bringing morsels of food up to my lips, only to whisk them away again. Have I mentioned that my husband can be very trying on occasion? Maybe he was hoping for a reaction. Well, I'd give him one, but not the one he was expecting.

  "Meow," I wailed noisily, watching the food dance away from me and looking pleadingly up at my tormentor, which was extremely hard to do with the awful collar around my neck.

  "Huh." Mark looked shocked for a moment, and I resisted the urge to smile. If I had it would have been a great big smug one. "You can follow instructions," he said, almost incredulously. Looking at me suspiciously, he went on, "You're not actually looking forward to your punishment are you?" His eyes narrowed in on me, and watched me very carefully. "If you are it will obviously need to be changed."

  No way. I could cope with being a pussycat, so I shook my head vigorously and began mewling for my next bite. If he changed it the odds were that it would be something far worse, so I decided to hedge my bets.

  "Hmm." He popped the last bite into my mouth and then tapped his top lip with his fingertip as if considering what to do to me. I chewed slowly, a little apprehensive that everything was going to go south much faster than I would have liked.

  "Nah. We'll stick with the kittykat punishment for now. I have a few things up my sleeve that I suspect you'll really enjoy." I suspected anything but. Still, better the devil you know, I guess.

  "Right, we've messed about long enough. Break time's over. Let's get on with the show."

  Chapter Six - Jennifer

  My husband liked to work to music. When Mozart's Serenade No.13 began blasting from the stereo I knew I was in for some fun. At least the track was upbeat. I didn't have to worry that things were going to get too intense - yet.

  When Mark came back into the room he was already unbuttoning his shirt, and that gave me every indication that this was going to be a long scene and that I should prepare myself accordingly. My gag was then reintroduced, and I closed my eyes as I tried to become the obedient submissive woman he craved. The one I needed to be for the next week in order to have my revenge. Surely it was a small price to pay for having my husband, the billionaire Mark Matthews, slathering at my feet? There was also a part of me that wanted to see what Sophia had taken from him. I was a little jealous of her power over him, and I wanted to be the one to wield that power. If he ever needed to purge himself again I wanted to be the one he would go to. I would not tolerate Sophia coming between us. Although I think I am openminded enough to be able to share my husband, if a scene required it, I wasn't prepared to share him with her. They had too much history, and she was a threat to my happiness. I'd make sure he knew it, too.

  My thoughts were disrupted when the tail of the whip began to slide over my shoulders and snake down towards my stomach. Drawing in a shaky breath, I blew it out slowly through my nose and let the music carry me away. Bold and beautiful, joyful and playful, the notes blended perfectly with each artful line the whip made across my body. At first it was soft and slippery, creating nothing but whispers of sensation. It coiled around me, making the hairs on my skin stand up on end, demonstrating that though the whip was a beast to be feared, it didn't always have to represent pain. Mark gave me nearly six minutes of the sweetest torment for my warm-up, but he was very careful to avoid all my hotspots, some of which were now throbbing in torment.

  When the music changed to Ode to Joy by Beethoven he became bolder. Now he used both ends of the whip, at first looping it around my right leg and running it up and down, before crossing the ends over and dragging it tightly up my skin. As far as sensation play went it sent ripples of heat flying through me, and my pulse began to accelerate. The man was a bastard for dragging his scenes out to the max, so I knew I could expect at least another twenty minutes of this kind of play before he would begin to deliver any pain. The anticipation was excruciating.

  The music got darker as we continued. I had to suffer through Ravel's Bolero and Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata and Fugue, amongst others, with the whip becoming increasingly animated upon my skin. Now I was treated to smacks and rough taps from the whip handle. They didn't hurt, but each was a jarring reminder of what was to come. When the first soft flick of the whip came at me I flinched automatically, but there was no heat behind it yet. Mark was still playing with me.

  "Remember that safe signal?"

  I nodded. I remembered it all right, but there was no chance I was going to use it. Mark then wrapped the whip around my neck, causing my adrenaline level to skyrocket, before he replaced his stern expression with a smile. The tail then slowly slithered down my throat as I glared at him.

  "You are so easy to play, kittykat."

  Yeah, just wait until it's your turn, asshole, I thought acerbically.

  "Well, you'll be glad to know it's nearly time for the finale. Brace yourself, darling."

  With that warning he disappeared behind me, and I almost winced as I heard the starting notes of Carmina Burana by Carl Orff. It was a song I loved and hated in equal measure. It was a masterpiece, there was no doubt it, and I couldn't listen to it without being in awe of the composer. On the negative side, it was one of my husband's favourite pieces to do damage to, due to the rather large bass drums used. He could usually time his strokes to perfection, which was awesome for him and diabolical for me, mostly because I knew exactly when each was coming. Sure enough he then cracked the whip in the air, and I tried my best not to brace myself for carnage.

  All the way through the first few verses I was telling myself not to tense. That didn't do me the least bit of good, whatsoever, because when that high note struck it was an almost automatic reaction to brace myself for danger, and sure enough the whip cracked down with its own brand of fiery precision and delight. Over and over Mark brought that thing down to all sorts of dark, classical numbers that screamed danger and dire consequences were just around the corner.

  Cursing over a thousand times in my head, every
time the lick of the whip caught a nipple or an already inflamed piece of flesh, it nearly had me wailing in earnest. He knew just where to place the thing for maximum impact, and that included between my legs. He kept me on my toes guessing where the next lash would fall, but it always unerringly caught its target. Why oh why did I have to marry a perfectionist for a husband? It wasn't fair. How could he be so good at nearly everything he turned his hand to? There was no justice in the world.

  The finale was about five songs long, and by the end of it I was sobbing. Each line across my back, ass, and thighs had a line crisscrossing over it, and every time a fresh welt landed it set my nerve-endings aflame. It smarted like wildfire, but there was no way I would safe word. All it did was increase my resolve to stay strong. Mark had me so off-balance by now I didn't know which way was up. One minute his whip was sinking into my flesh, and in the next his fingertips were skimming across my clit. I didn't know whether to laugh, scream or weep, so I did none of those things. Concentrating on sucking air into my body it was all I could do to breathe. My body once again hung limply from its bonds, and I had no energy left for anything bar the bare necessities. Mark would know I was getting close to my limit, so I had to trust that he would end this soon.

  As The Hall of the Mountain King began to play a tide of pleasure was sweeping through me. The last three licks of the whip had been focused upon my clit, and I was having a hard time deciding if I wanted another stripe down there or not. Obviously it hurt, which was a good reason not to want one, but on the other hand it wouldn't take too many more strokes before I came all over the place. That was probably enough reason for him to continue, and he did until the song came to its abrupt end.

  "All over, kittykat. You did incredibly well, considering we haven't done anything like that since just after we were married." Mark came to stand in front of me, and ran the pad of his thumb down my cheek before tracing the outline of my stretched lips, which were now protesting at having worn the gag for so long. "God, you look so beautiful like that. I could eat you up and come back for seconds." Bending into my neck, he inhaled my scent and pressed his erection into my stomach. I mewled in pain, though a different sort from that of his whipping. And he knew exactly what I was moaning about, for a ghost of a smile flittered across his lips.