by Ashe Barker
“Tell Me.”
By
Ashe Barker
Copyright © 2015 by Baronet Press. All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction, intended for adults.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously by the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
“Sir, stop… Please, I can’t…” Thea allowed her head to drop backwards, dislodging the loose knot her Dom had fashioned in her hair at the start of their scene. It tumbled down her back in dark waves, a light caress against her shoulders, tender from the lash of the flogger. She hissed in a sharp breath, battling to ride the waves of exquisite agony shooting in a direct line from her clamped nipples to her clit.
The relentless flogging paused. Thea gasped, dragging in precious oxygen during this brief lull. A few seconds, just a few sweet moments would be enough for her to regroup and be ready to continue.
“Sir stop? Since when was that a safe word, girl?” Thea’s pussy clenched at the low, rich tone of the man behind her, as he leaned forward now to murmur the words right into her ear. He had a unique quality in his voice, some special timbre which seemed to resonate right through her soul. She could never say no to him.
“It isn’t. I mean, I don't want to stop, I apologise, Sir.”
“Tell me, Thea.” He reached around her to cup her breasts in his hands, briefly relieving the tension created by the nipple clamps gripping each of her swollen nubs. Thea sighed in relief, loving the intimacy of this moment, the certainty that he knew, without her even needing to tell him, that she was close to her limit.
Except she had told him. She had asked him to stop, though not in the customary manner, the manner guaranteed to bring a scene to a shuddering halt. If she’d uttered her safe word her Dom would have released her from the restraints which held her suspended from the beam across the ceiling in the dungeon. There would be no questions asked, she would be whisked straight into the aftercare suite. There she would be wrapped in a blanket and snuggled up to his warm solid body before she could say ball gag.
Thea hadn’t said ‘red’; but through her tone, her body language, he knew anyway.
Tony always knew.
“I just need a moment, Sir. Oh, that feels good.” Thea allowed her head to rest against her Dom’s shoulder as he massaged her breasts, his fingers gentle against her delicate, sensitive skin. For several more seconds he caressed her, drawing her back into the scene, back under his spell. He seemed to know the exact moment she was his again.
“We continue?”
“Yes, Sir. Please,”
There was a faint swirl of air against her naked back as he stepped away, and a rustle as he bent to retrieve the flogger he had laid to one side in order to calm her.
Thea shivered, then exhaled as he drew the strands of the flogger across her shoulders, her already heated skin prickling under the caress. He walked around her to trail the suede tendrils over her breasts, paying close attention to her throbbing nipples. Thea tensed, willing him not to flick or nudge, but at the same time longing for him to do just that.
He didn’t. Instead he brushed her lips with his own, just the lightest suggestion of a kiss before he circled around behind her again. Thea wondered if it was possible to die from longing, from sheer anticipation.
“Sir…”
“I know.” His tone was clipped, all business. Gone now the tender lover of just a few seconds ago, “Now, right?”
“Now, Sir … aaagh” Despite her readiness Thea let out a startled yelp as the flogger landed across her naked shoulders. The pain was sharp at first, shimmering across the surface of her skin, then sinking into her flesh, rich and heavy. She sagged forward, allowing the restraints which held her secure by the wrists to take her weight now.
Wordless, her Dom continued to drop stroke after stroke across her shoulders and buttocks, her breasts, her hips, each one perfectly placed and timed to ensure she had sufficient space to absorb the impact before the next fell. His movements were economical, efficient, precise, his skill long-practised. He circled her slowly, her body open to him, exposed.
Thea had been unnerved at first when Tony led her to the centre of the dungeon and asked her to raise her arms above her head. She had expected to be secured to the St Andrew’s cross, which would have offered a modicum of privacy as she could have pressed her body against its warm, solid arms. Instead she was here, on display for the entire dungeon to watch as Tony worked his magic on her. Once he had her secured he had taken his time removing the corset which she had laced so carefully before leaving her flat. It now lay beside his bag of toys, a brilliant, shimmering pool of crimson. She was next to naked, but her self-consciousness had evaporated quickly, as they both knew it would.
The pinch of nipple clamps, the caress of the collar around her neck, these grounded her, gave her the solid foundation she craved. And Tony’s voice, like liquid lust poured into her soul, just swept her along and carried her with him on this journey.
Thea counted the strokes in her head, picking up where they had left off before she begged for a time out, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. She had enough experience now to recognise the moment her endorphins kicked in to blunt the intensity, to welcome that heady rush that felt like flying but through treacle. She was straining, reaching, almost, not quite…
“Enough.” The sweet whipping stopped, and Tony stepped back in front of her. His expression was stern. She cringed, but still couldn’t stem the words of protest.
“No, not yet. I need more. Sir, please.” Thea shivered, her pussy clenching, her clit swollen and throbbing. So close, so fucking close.
Gentle, firm hands unfastened the buckles securing her wrists. Thea slumped forward to be caught in Tony’s arms. He hauled her against him, holding her for the few moments it took for her legs to regain enough sensation to support her.
“You stopped too early, I was almost there.”
Her petulant tone was not to his liking if the sharp slap to her bottom was any indication. “I decide when you’ve had enough, not you. I’ve warned you enough times about topping from the bottom.”
Thea was contrite instantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You know best, I realise that. Thank you Sir.” Despite her desire for more, Thea had no wish to earn a punishment, not in her current delicate, fragile state. She was physically close to her limit, and emotionally strung out to the point where she couldn't think straight. His anger now would be unbearable. She hesitated for a few moments, waiting for his response. Was he displeased?
It would seem not. His arms remained around her body, offering support, comfort, security.
Relieved and reassured Thea attempted to stand upright, damping down the bitter frustration of unmet need, unsatisfied lust. Tony pulled her back against him, tur
ning her now so her shoulders rested against his chest. He cupped her breasts in his hands. Thea gasped, the forgotten nipple clamps now back in sharp focus. Tony chuckled as he pressed his palms against the pebbled nubs, pinched mercilessly in the clover-leaf grips.
“Not done yet, my sweet slut. I think we need something a little more—severe—to satisfy you this evening. Would you agree?”
Thea nodded, her yearning almost palpable, like a living, breathing entity snapping around her ankles, demanding satisfaction.
“The bench. Lay across it.” He turned her in the direction of a spanking bench a few yards away in another part of the dungeon. Thea was oblivious to the presence of other couples engaged in similar play to her own, and to her own near-nakedness as she walked slowly over the warm, polished wood floor. She wore only her thong, as a passing nod to The Wicked Club’s rule forbidding nudity in public areas, and the studded leather collar which Tony insisted on locking around her neck at the start of every scene they played.
Her body was sore, delightfully so, every movement reminding her of what she was, what she craved and why she was here. She reached the bench and draped her body across it, knowing exactly the right position to gain maximum exposure to whatever Tony would offer her next.
She turned her head to see her Dom crouch beside his bag, the rucksack he always used to carry his toys and equipment. He rarely played with anything other than his own personal items, things he knew, and could use with consummate skill. He selected his next implement.
The cane.
A ripple of terrified anticipation spiked through Thea’s nervous system, causing her to jerk on the bench. Tony caught the movement and turned to regard her, his expression stony.
“Will you need me to tie you in place?”
“No, Sir.” Thea bristled a little at the suggestion. She was no newbie, she knew what a caning was like, and she loved the bite of the rattan against the backs of her thighs. Maybe not while it was actually happening, but always afterwards. Without fail.
Tony straightened and leaned on the bench beside her. Thea had to twist her neck to keep him in sight.
“Are you sure? You know I won’t permit you to move once we start. I have no wish to punish you this evening if that can be avoided so if you think you may fail in this I’m prepared to help you.”
“I’ll be fine, Sir. I promise.”
“Good girl.” The cane in his left hand, Tony caressed her waiting buttocks with his right palm, pressing on the areas she knew must be already crimson from the flogging. “How many strokes do you want?”
“You decide, Sir. You know how it needs to be.” Which was code for You know how much I need.
“Okay, until I decide to stop then.” He stood and moved into position behind her.
Thea nodded, then realised he could no longer see her head so she verbalised her agreement. He wouldn't start otherwise.
“Yes, Sir.”
Her active participation now concluded, Thea allowed her slim frame to drape over the bench with a fluid, boneless grace. Her head felt heavy, her thinking slurred already as she sank deeper into her submissive haze.
She let out a sharp hiss as the first stroke landed across both cheeks of her arse.
“Wake up, subbie. Do I have your attention?” Tony sounded impatient, his words clipped and curt. Her head cleared in an instant.
“Yes, Sir. Sorry.”
“Good. We can continue then.” Tony shifted his position slightly to stand at right angles to her upturned bum. From her position across the bench Thea could pick out the sharp crease of his smart trousers and the shine of his gleaming leather shoes, but he was obscured from the knees up.
He almost always met her in the club foyer, dressed for business, and she assumed he came to the club straight from work. She had no idea what her Dom did for a living, had never asked as that would involve trading confidences and she had no wish to discuss her own life beyond the confines of The Wicked Club.
She was different in the outside world, separate, another person entirely.
Thea held her breath as Tony tapped the cane against her bottom, the right cheek this time. He delivered a series of light, rapid taps then pressed the cane hard against her sensitised buttock. He waited for a couple of seconds, then lifted the cane and brought it down with a sharp snap in the exact place he had prepared.
Thea sighed, her clit quivering in near orgasm. The pain was wonderful, utterly sublime. A punishment caning would feel different. There would be no lead-in, no preparing her, no brief interlude between each stroke to allow the bite to sink deep into her tissues. Punishment was hard, relentless, cruel, whereas this was exquisite. She’d been on the receiving end of harsh discipline, also at Tony’s hands, and knew the difference. Here, now, her Dom was intent on bringing her to the state of relaxed liberation she craved.
She had been right earlier, he knew exactly how it needed to be. How she needed to be.
Tony shifted again and repeated the sequence on her left buttock. This time the final stroke felt harder, more intense. Thea screamed.
Tony ignored her and started his preparations on the next spot he’d selected. Back to her right buttock now, but an inch or so lower than the first time. Thea groaned as he pressed the cane into her flesh, lifting her bottom to welcome the final slicing blow.
“Oh God. Sir, that’s so good. I want to come.”
“Really?” Tony slid his hand between her legs and nudged the brief film of the thong to one side. He slid two fingers deep into her pussy, then withdrew them to inspect the wetness he had collected. “I believe you may be right. But that would be such a bad idea, little slut. You know the rules about orgasms without permission.”
“I know, but I need to come, Sir. I need you to rub my clit.”
“Like this?” He flicked the tip of her swollen bud with the pad of his finger, then drew it slowly across the end. Thea stiffened, thrusting her bottom up, her legs spread wide. It was to no avail, Tony withdrew his hand after just a couple of seconds. “I don't think so, not quite yet. We haven't finished here,”
“Oh, Sir, please.”
“Hush. Concentrate.” He started the ritual tapping again, this time on the spot at the back of her right thigh where it would hurt like hell tomorrow, and the day after, every time she sat down. The final stripe was like liquid fire, seeping into her bones. Thea was sobbing now, an emotional response to the extreme arousal, the intimacy, the humiliation, her absolute submission to the Dom who owned her for this night.
Another stroke to her left thigh had Thea squirming against the bench, her fingers gripping the solid wood legs of it as she fought the urge to reach back and cover her abused bottom, to beg him to stop.
She knew he was ramping this up, even the rapid taps against her skin were hurting as he prepared for the next stroke, on her bottom again this time. She let out another scream as the cane landed for the big one.
Tony paused, allowed her time to get her breath back. He would stop if she asked him, or even if she just gave him a signal she’d had enough. She wouldn’t, not yet, or at least not intentionally. So often Tony just knew when to stop, as he had earlier. But she wanted more. She was hurting but she craved the pain. She needed to feel that final surge of energy, that rush of endorphin-fuelled lust that would drive her past the point of no return.
She’d experienced it before, many times. The sensation reminded her of a cork popping. Then, the pressure valve opened, whatever it was that screwed her up and messed with her head would flow out, freely. She would be rid of the tension, the pent up anxieties that plagued her, built up day after day, week after week and ground her down.
Tony would know. The moment she was free, he would know.
Thea reached for it, trusting Tony to take her to that place.
The next stroke was to be in the exact same spot he’d just caned. Tony started tapping, the mini-strokes falling so fast she couldn't tell one from another. Th
ea inhaled, the action automatic, ingrained, then she held the breath as he pressed the cane against her smarting bottom. Even so, despite her relaxed, near-euphoric state, the final stroke was excruciating. Thea screamed, then shuddered violently as her muscles tensed. The action was involuntary, sending aftershocks of sensation through her. Tony moved in close, slipped his hand between her legs again and this time his caress was long and purposeful. He massaged her clit, at the same time sliding two fingers inside her to curl against her G-spot. She groaned, squeezing, loving his touch, needing him to stay this time.
Tony seemed to read her mind. He knew, as ever, the precise moment to flick the switch, to turn pain into pleasure, the contrast between the two heightening both. Or perhaps they were near-identical, perhaps that was why she couldn’t seem to find one without the other.
“Now.”
One word, enough. Her orgasm washed through her, the waves of pleasure pulsing, spinning her head around, scrambling what was left of conscious thought. The first release was powerful, therapeutic, cleansing. It was followed by a series of smaller after-tremors—less intense but equally satisfying—filling her cold, rigid frame with warmth, light, a sense of well-being.
Thea had no idea how long she lay there, Tony’s hands on her, in her, drawing out her demons and replacing them with the quiet glow of submission, of safety, of peace.
The shudders had left her body, and she was only dimly aware of his fingers stroking her breasts as he released the clamps on her nipples, then the brisk rubbing of his palms on the sensitive nubs to dissipate the sharp pain as the blood rushed back. All the time his soft voice seemed to surround her, his words muffled but offering encouragement, approval, admiration.
She mewled a little as a soft blanket fell over her tender shoulders and back. His hands under her body raised her from the bench, turned her, then lifted her. She relaxed into Tony's arms as he murmured words into her ear, words she hardly registered as she snuggled into him.
Tony set her down on a sofa in the aftercare lounge, then settled beside her. Thea crawled into his arms, the blanket still wrapped around her as she began to shiver. Tony pulled it tighter, tucking in the edges.
