by Ford, Brynn
I glanced over to see him rummaging around, pulling ingredients from the cabinets and refrigerator and turning on the stove.
Is he cooking for me?
What do I do, just sit here?
He spoke to me without looking away from what he was doing, “Normally, if you were mine, truly and fully mine, I would tell you to take off your clothes, climb on the table, and get on all fours for my viewing pleasure while I make you something to eat. But I’m guessing you haven’t changed your mind about the underwear rule?” I could see his sly smile from the corner of his lips.
My mouth twisted at the side, threatening to form a flattered smile that he’d want to see me that way, “No, Sir.”
He glanced over at me, “No matter. You can do the same in your underwear. Clothes off. Up on the table on all fours, facing me.”
“Excuse me?”
He stopped dead in his tracks and smiled, a real shit-eating grin. He looked at me for a beat, then went back to what he was doing, cooking as he enlightened me.
“You know, I always get asked why I enjoy breaking in a new submissive so much. This is why, right here. New subs, like you, Blue, don’t understand their place. They don’t know how to play by the rules. I really enjoy teaching those hard lessons. You would be getting the hard lesson right now if I wasn't easing you into this.”
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I didn’t.
“Where are your manners, Blue?” he asked me intently.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He slammed a glass lid onto the skillet he was cooking from and checked his wrist watch, pressing a button on the side. He strode over to me with confidence and grace and raw masculinity. He stood at my side, towering over me where I sat.
“I asked you a question, Blue. It wouldn’t be wise to break another rule. Where are your manners?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“You don’t know? You don't know where your manners are? Or you don’t know what rule you broke?”
I swallowed silently, my skin prickled with a rush of adrenaline I hadn’t felt in months. I hadn’t realized how much I longed for that feeling again until that very moment.
“Get up,” Law ordered.
I only hesitated for a second before pushing my chair back and rising to my feet. He glanced at his wrist watch.
“In four minutes, this timer goes off and if I’m still dealing with your disobedience then, your dinner will burn,” he pointed to the table top, “So get on the table. Now.”
My brow furrowed. My strong-willed tendencies battled internally with my need to let go, my need to ride the high of this unexplored craving for orders and rules and pain and punishment. It grew in its resolve with every passing moment as I watched Law’s patience fade. The urge to summon his inner demons intensified.
I wanted to push back. I wanted to test his limits. I wanted to know what he would do to me if I disobeyed.
“What happens if I don't do as told? Sir.”
I felt his electric energy prickle at my skin, pulsing from him into me. I saw the sharp intake of breath as I defied him in questioning. I heard the low chuckle of satisfaction that I had given him reason to show me.
He stepped forward, impossibly close, pressing his chest to my shoulder where we stood. His sudden shift caught me off balance and I bumped back against the chair’s edge as my feet tried to move me backward, away from the perceived threat. The chair toppled to the floor behind me.
Law was an oppressive tower of dominance, radiating heat down the side of my body and I struggled to catch my breath in the sudden humidity. I turned my head toward him just enough to lock eyes, gazing upward at the intensity of his features that threatened to smolder.
He licked his lips, “Do you want me to tell you what happens or show you?”
I was tempted to look away from him as the look in his crystal blue eyes burned me. But I didn’t look away. I couldn’t look away.
He tilted his head to the side as he watched me, “Do what I told you to and I'll tell you. Don't, and I'll show you.”
The promise was like a black hole, consuming all the world around us except for our heat and our breath and our commitment to whatever the hell this thing would become.
I wanted to be shown.
I lifted my chin, indicating my defiance, and the air left him in a sudden gust. Before I knew what was happening, his hand was at the nape of my neck, gripping tightly and pushing me down. I saw table rising up to meet me.
Fear gripped me in the moment as I imagined my face slamming into the hard wood, imagined my nose cracking and bleeding against the surface. For the moment, I regretted being there. I regretted putting myself in a vulnerable position.
But my face never met the table. He’d forced me down hard and fast but held me so strongly in his grip there was no squirming away from him.
“Elbows on the table, palms flat."
I blinked, letting out a quick breath of relief that I wouldn't have to explain a broken nose to Vaughn.
“Do it,” he growled.
Trembling, I lifted my hands and placed my forearms on the solid surface, elbows pressing into the unforgiving hardness. My hands were balled into tight fists.
Law pinched my neck where he gripped me, “Hands open, palms
flat on the table. Don't test my patience, Blue, you won't be happy with the result. Or perhaps you will be, time will tell.”
Still reeling from nearly having my face smashed in, I obeyed. He released my neck and I held my weight through my forearms, bent over the table.
He moved behind me and I couldn't see him anymore. In one motion he had effectively stripped me of the desire to defy him, but as quiet moments passed, he let the excitement of the unknown slowly build again. That silent waiting held threat and wonder and sweet, sweet promises of pain.
The adrenaline rush he forced was like climbing a ladder of emotions. It took me from defiance to fear, then from wanting to needing. Begging for more was at the highest rung and I had nearly climbed to the top.
“You've broken rule number one, Blue. I have to punish you for that, for your defiance and for your neglect of the formalities. I am Sir to you. Now tell me your safewords before your punishment. I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
My voice was shaky from a combination of nerves and excited anticipation, “Red if I want you to stop. Yellow if I need a break or I’m approaching a limit,” I gulped, “Sir.”
“And?”
“And if you ask me to check in with you, I tell you Green if I’m good to go, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Suddenly, I felt his body against my ass, and I jumped a mile at the sudden touch.
“Hold still, Blue,” he said as his hands snaked around to my front.
He reached under the hem of my shirt and his fingers grazed my skin as he unhooked the button on my jeans. Instinctively, I jerked my body forward, toward the table, away from him.
“Wait,” I said.
“That’s not a safeword.”
He grabbed my hips and pulled them back toward him, grabbing the zipper under the button on my jeans and yanking it down.
I gasped. I considered Yellow. But I didn’t want to use a safeword just because I was a little uncomfortable. So I took a deep breath, let go of control, and gave him my trust. That was why I was doing this with him, anyway. To learn to let go.
Slowly, deliberately, he pulled my jeans down, peeling them from my ass, over my hips, and down to my thighs. He didn’t pull them any farther than that and my underwear still covered my private bits, thankfully.
He paused and I didn't know what I was supposed to say or if I was supposed to say anything at all, so I didn't.
I waited.
I paused.
I breathed.
And then I came alive.
A ripple of pain shot through from my rear. It was a sharp, biting pain that rose swiftly to a mountain high peak before dropping off like a
n avalanche at the sudden, pulsing ache that followed like an earthquake. Aftershocks came quickly, one right after the other, seven, eight nine more times as Law's hand slammed hard against my cheeks.
As quickly as it had begun, it stopped. By the tenth and final swat, I was gasping. Panting. Breathless.
I couldn't think straight. Law had hit me. He’d spanked me. It wasn't gentle or teasing. It wasn't playful.
It was punishment.
It was painful.
It was divine.
I wanted more, needed more. My brain screamed at me to run as far and fast from the pain as possible. My body ached and pleaded with me to seek easement from the hurt he caused. Yet that sly mistress named adrenaline tempted me, enchanting my senses as she ran through my veins, commanding me to beg for more.
Though I still felt unsure of the manners he expected from me and I was still learning what would entice reward or punishment or a blurred line between the two from his hand, I spoke clearly and confidently.
“Thank you, Sir.”
When he spoke, I realized he suffered under the same spell of adrenaline as he panted, “Good girl, Blue. You’re learning.”
I couldn't help my smile before I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. Part of me wanted to push him again, defy him again, just to feel that sweet ache one more time. Another part of me melted at the verbal praise, relishing the feeling of his hand on my hair, gently stroking in recognition that I'd done well for him. That part of me wanted to obey, to be good for him. If punishment could feel this good, what would the reward be like? My belly clenched low at the thought.
No rewards, only punishment.
I had to force Vaughn's face to appear in my mind to remind me that there would never be the pleasure of reward. Not with Law.
I clenched my fingers, drawing them up under my palms into fists and I dug my fingernails into my skin. I imagined them as tiny, glitter-painted daggers of truth, my own self-inflicted reminder that there were strict limits to this dangerous game I'd chosen to play with Law. I inhaled sharply.
“Now do as I told you before, Blue. Take off your clothes and get on all fours on the table.”
I rose slowly, stinging and burning smarted across my ass, which surely had been painted red. I could imagine where black and blue bruises would form from the ache of his force. Looking straight ahead, I started to pull my skinny jeans farther down my legs.
Suddenly, I felt sick.
I stripped slowly, not because I was trying to be sexy or seductive, but because I wanted to remember this feeling, this stab in the gut feeling that I was stripping for a man that wasn’t Vaughn. It hurt and it felt wrong and I wanted to remember it so I knew never to cross that line with Law, no matter how tempting it was.
I stepped out of my jeans and pulled my shirt over my head. I was left standing there in my simple, white lace bra and matching panties. Law watched me as I climbed onto the table, getting into the same position Vaughn had fucked me in the night before for his viewing pleasure.
Chapter 13
Desi
All I could think about was the pain, the exquisite, non-stop, full body pain.
It was nearly three weeks now since Law had started giving me the pain I wanted in exchange for discipline and obedience in the scenes he created. I was down on all fours on a sheet of plywood in one of the back rooms at Black Ties. Law had covered the slab from edge to edge in a thick layer of gravel so that the surface was made rough by dirt and tiny, broken pebbles. My arms were tied in front of me, wrapped together in black rope at the wrists, my legs tied in the same way at the ankles.
Loose rock dug into my skin harshly as I held my weight through a crude form of the cat’s pose. Law seemed to be amused by putting me in alternative forms of the yoga poses I taught in my classes. He liked to use my strength and balance against me to push boundaries.
Though I normally enjoyed the stretch of the cat’s pose through my lower back, there was no such relief here. He forced me to keep my back flat, rather than arching or flexing, and my abdominal muscles strained without the benefit of being able to shift my weight back and forth. Instead of holding myself up by my hands, my weight was forced through my forearms on the gravel.
With my wrists locked together, it was more challenging to balance and I lacked the advantage of being able to lock out my elbows, as I could’ve done on my hands, for some relief from the muscle strain. My knees burned and the gravel burrowed into my shins. Holding the position on the coarse surface was incessant torment.
The first few minutes were easy. Law just had me hold my position, centering myself and finding balance and strength through my forearms. I was in good shape, so I could do it for a short time without strain. It was only the gravel that insisted on being noticed in the beginning.
After those first few minutes, though, he really started to push me. First, he spanked me on the ass with his open hand. I hadn’t given up my underwear rule, but as he gained my trust over the last few weeks, I conceded to allow him to pull up the bottom of my panties to expose my cheeks for spanking. That didn’t exactly feel sexual or scream crossing the line to me since he was basically just giving me a wedgie.
His hand connected with my bare cheeks, right where they met the tops of my thighs. He varied his intensity and speed over several minutes, constantly changing his approach so that every strike was a surprise. At some point he started using a riding crop instead of his hand. I wanted to collapse down onto my arms and bury my face while I breathed through the pain, but he wouldn’t let me.
I started to feel heavy through my shoulders once he brought out the flogger. I could feel my body start to tremble from the ache of holding such a position while enduring pain all over. He whipped me with the flogger across my shoulders and upper arms. He was relentless in his beating, not giving me time to breath between each strike. It stung the worst over my shoulder blades. Each blow shifted the way I held myself up and my arms ground into the surface. In some places, the roughness was a minor annoyance, but larger pebbles pressed in unforgivingly, especially at my elbows and knees.
Thankfully, Law gave me a brief reprieve from his onslaught. He still wouldn’t allow me out of position and my muscles shook, but he granted me a moment to work through the pain. I couldn’t keep track of the passing minutes anymore.
Twenty minutes? Thirty? Forty? Maybe it's only been seconds.
I was just focused on my breathing like Law taught me. Deep breaths in and out.
“Check in with me, Blue,” he commanded.
I hesitated.
I wanted him to keep going, to keep pushing. I wanted to know how much of this I could take. I wanted to stay in this subspace forever, where my mind was finally free from emotional pain, concerned only with the physical sensations overwhelming me. But I ached and burned and stung like never before and my muscles screamed for a break.
I can have a break if I tell him Yellow.
No, I can push through it.
“Green, Sir.”
He moved to stand directly in front of me, crouching down onto his haunches. He slid two fingers under my chin, lifting my head so I was forced to make eye contact. I hated when he did that. He could see right through me.
“You hesitated. Do I need to ask again?”
I swallowed, but my voice wavered from strain as I tried to convince him I was fine, “No, Sir. Green, Sir.”
“Blue, I can’t continue if you’re not being honest with me.”
I didn’t want him to stop. My mind was free from the ever-present turmoil of my loss when he pushed me this way.
But he might choose to stop anyway if he thinks I’m being dishonest.
I decided to give him a more truthful response, hoping it would placate him enough to continue, “Call it Yellow-Green, Sir. Close to Yellow, but not yet. I want you to continue, Sir. Please, Sir.”
The corners of his lips turned up with pride at my ability to take what he did to me, and it made me feel powerful, noble.
I felt a bit of that goddess-like quality I had witnessed with Ris the first night I visited Black Ties. I wanted to feel that way all the time.
“Good girl. We’ll continue this time. But no more hesitation with your safewords. Just honest, immediate responses. You know I can see through your bullshit. Next time I’ll punish you by sending you home without another touch. Clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His fingers slipped away from underneath my chin and came back against me with a smack as he slapped my cheek. It wasn’t with great force, but just hard enough to sting, to focus me. I hissed in a breath, smiling, and he did it again. I loved the feel of it and he knew that.
I groaned, savoring the sweet distraction of pain, “Thank you, Sir.”
His hand moved again, this time gripping the back of my neck before dragging me forward towards him. A sharp cry escaped me as my arms and legs skidded across the gravel. Then suddenly, his face was close to mine. Too damn close. I could smell the fresh mint of his breath and it gave me a sudden craving for peppermint candies.
“Lay down flat on your stomach and stretch out your arms and legs.”
He released me and stood abruptly.
I let out a breath and pushed my wrists forward, sliding them over the dirt covered plywood. I did the same with my bound feet kicking them out behind me and sliding down until my body was flat on the board, face down.
“Does it feel good to stretch out a bit, Blue?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you trust me, Blue?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Roll over. On your back.”
I rolled like a log and felt the gravel drag harshly over my skin as I turned. Law stepped forward over me and hovered in a wide stance, one leg on either side of my hips. Without warning, he dropped down to his haunches. His ass hovered just inches above me. That part of him was far too close to that part of me.
My breath hitched.
My skin pricked.
