“Punishment in this case should serve a couple of functions. It should give you a clear conscience — a way to wipe the slate clean. It should also give us both a sense of fairness. Closure. And finally, it should bring us closer together when it’s over. I think discussing what the punishment will or won’t be is kind of a negotiation.”
“If you could decree it, what would you want to do to me?”
I sat back and rubbed my jaw. I thought of a dozen possibilities but none felt right.
“Nothing feels right, Kitten. If it’s up to me, there won’t be a punishment.”
She was silent, and I let her work through it. I let my wolf take over enough so I’d sit still. Any fidgeting on my part might pull her out of her thoughts.
After at least four or five minutes, she looked up, her eyes glassy. “I think I need you to belt me, Sir. I hurt you. It doesn’t feel as if I should get away with it.”
“How many licks?”
“I don’t know. Fifteen minutes? Until I’m crying? Until you think you’ve hurt me as much as I hurt you?”
At fifteen minutes, a slow pace of three strikes per minutes would be forty-five strikes. If I sped it up and tore into her, it could easily be well over one hundred and twenty strikes.
“Is it your intention for me to beat you until you have to change to heal?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you have whatever is needed to dye your hair afterward?”
“I do, Sir.”
I shook my head. “It’d been my intention to get rough with you tonight, but it would’ve just been sex.”
She lowered her gaze to my feet. I didn’t fuss.
“What do you feed your tiger?” She was offering to let me see her tiger after I punished her. I’d take that over anything else I’d planned.
“Usually a couple of chickens, sometimes fifteen or twenty pounds of beef or venison. She’s also a fan of rabbit meat.”
I found Duke’s contact info on my phone and called him. “I’m going to need to feed a tiger. Fifteen to twenty pounds. What do you have thawed out that I can buy?”
“Easiest would be fresh hamburger meat from the restaurant. If we have an hour, we can defrost venison or bison.”
“Fresh hamburger or thawed venison?” I asked Kitty.
“My tiger will always prefer fresh to thawed, Sir.”
Kitty
Squatch says he doesn’t expect me to stay in place for punishment, but that means I have to be restrained. He went somewhere and returned with rope and zip-ties, and bound my wrists to the metal headboard of a bed, and my ankles to the metal footboard. I assumed these beds were designed to hold shapeshifters, so I didn’t bother checking to see how strong the metal was. I could also tell by the thickness that these were the heavy-duty zip-ties. I could possibly pull hard enough to break one, but when he put a second one on the first wrist, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
Some kind of triangle shaped hard cushion went under my hips so my butt stuck in the air.
It’s so hard to lie still and let someone restrain you, knowing they’re going to hurt you. I tried to blank my mind, so I didn’t have to think of what was coming. My body knew, though. I was feeling equal parts arousal and fear — mostly fear — but I knew we had to do this.
I’d hurt Squatch. I’d meant to leave him. I hadn’t trusted him to help me find a solution. I hadn’t even given him a chance.
He waited until I was secure to tell me, “I won’t go over fifteen minutes. I don’t know if it will take two minutes, five minutes, ten, or the entire fifteen. I assume you’ll be crying, but I’m not making promises about that.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, my lips, the tip of my nose. “I love you, Kitten.”
“I love you, too.”
He turned to his luggage and walked to me with one of the huge butt plugs. The stem of this one was as big around as my wrist. The bulb on the inside was as big as my fist. I heard myself whimper, but I didn’t ask him not to.
I’d figured out, at some point, that butt plugs equated to ownership with him. I almost always wore one to the store, and to the clubhouse, and I always got the energy off of him that my wearing a plug he’d stuffed into my ass was somehow proof that I was his. Proof to both of us. Not just him.
Perhaps it was how it made me feel, and I was imprinting that feeling onto him, but I didn’t think so.
He wasn’t gentle this time, putting it in. It stretched and burned and hurt more than I could handle. I screamed. I begged for a respite, for more lube, but he kept pushing. It took muscle for him to push it into me, to force my bottom hole wide enough for it to go in, but it finally sank into me, stretching me a little less, once it was in.
But still, I screamed and begged. “It hurts! It’s too much!”
Instead of helping me work through the pain, he stepped back and gave me the first strike with the belt.
And then the second.
The third.
The first three strikes hit one after another, and I was frantic. My heart raced and I gasped for air. Three lines of fire across cold skin. Pain splintered in my mind. My bottom hole spasmed around the horrible plug, and there was nothing I could do to relieve the fire from the belt. I fought my bonds. He’d used four zip-ties per limb, when two would have been enough. The harsh, unforgiving plastic rubbed and bit into my wrists and ankles. Rope wound around the bed and held me down at the small of my back and over the backs of my knees. I wasn’t going anywhere, and I couldn’t move my bottom more than a couple of inches, but damn, I tried.
The belt came again. Four strikes this time, one after another without pause, and they hit me like four bolts of lightning. My screams filled the room and came back to me.
I was out of my mind from the pain and heat, screaming and thrashing, but he didn’t help me with it. No hand to my back. No voice in my ear. I was on my own to deal with it, but I didn’t beg for relief.
The belt landed five times all at once the next time. The punishing leather no longer crashed on cold skin, but now it landed on already abused fleshed. Heat piling on top of heat. My wrists were red under the cruel plastic. My breathing was ragged. My heart raced.
This time, he didn’t give me long at all before he added six strikes without pause — faster than before, and harder. Heated coal lashing supersensitive, fiery nerve endings.
At first, I could only scream like a wounded animal, but eventually, I heard myself begging. Not for him to stop. No. I didn’t want him to stop until I’d had enough, but I needed his voice. His touch.
“Help me, Sir! Please! It’s too much.”
The warmth of his hand touched between my shoulders. Rested there. I sucked air into my lungs. A deep breath between sobs. His mouth came close to my ear. “Of course it’s too much, Kitten. It has to be. I’m right here, going through it with you. This is for both of us, yes? Do you want me to stop before it’s finished?”
I shook my head. “No, Sir! I just need your touch. Please!”
“Then you’ll have it.”
And I did. He’d pull his hand away while he gave me each sequence, but then he was right back beside me, the heat of his hand on my back. I needed the connection. I can’t explain why.
When he made it to ten strikes at once, somehow, I thought that would finish it. It took me longer to deal with the pain afterward, but I was more relaxed because I thought we were finished.
When he stepped away, I assumed it was to get scissors to cut me loose, but then I heard the belt flying through the air a split second before my bottom exploded in pain again. Eleven times this round, and my screams once again echoed around the room. My throat hurt.
When I could form words, I screamed, “Eugene! Please! I can’t!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Squatch
Eugene was the father of her fake identity. Her real father’s name is Vincenzo. Still, that was the safeword she knew I didn’t have to respect. In here, where it was soundproof, I wouldn’t have to respect red
, either. I hoped she didn’t say it though, because there was a good chance I’d stop if she used that safeword.
But she hadn’t. She’d used Eugene — her way of telling me she couldn’t possibly take anymore.
“You have no choice, Kitten. I’d planned to go to either twelve or fifteen at a minimum. My choice. Not yours.”
If I went to a round of twelve, she’d have taken seventy-five strikes. Probably enough, but I had a feeling she was going to need perhaps one more round after. I wouldn’t know for sure until I’d given it, though.
I didn’t let her find her composure this time. Three times, I’d given her enough time to be calm, to rise above the pain before I lashed her with more. She probably needed it now, but then I’d have to give her even more strikes to get her where I wanted, so I pushed forward faster than before. While she was still frantic from the last set.
When these twelve were over, I brushed my hand over her bottom. It was the first I’d touched it or soothed it. My hand had been on her back or shoulders before this, but I needed to feel the heat so I could gauge how much more she could take.
Next, I rubbed my hand over her head, neck, and stopped when it reached her upper back, where I’d been touching her since she asked for the contact. Her breath came in gasps between the sobs.
I checked in with my wolf. I’d have been fine to stop after the round of seven, but he’d needed more. He was mostly okay now, but I wasn’t certain Kitty would feel it was enough. We were doing this for her, after all. If she thought I backed off because she safeworded, she’d think the whole event didn’t count. I couldn’t risk that.
So, one more round, and I was going to give her fifteen this time. Not the thirteen she’d expect.
I put more muscle into every strike. Harder. And then harder still.
The last three strikes were the worst I’ve ever given her. If she wasn’t so warmed up, it probably would’ve broken the skin. I was a little surprised it didn’t, even with her ass primed and ready for it.
And then I did something I never do during punishments. I stripped my jeans off, pulled the lubed plug from her ass, and fucked her ass. Hard and fast. No mercy. Brutal.
But her screams changed from those of overwhelming pain to overwhelming bliss. We’d talk later about why she was going to get an orgasm after punishment this time — because she’d asked for it when I’d said it wasn’t going to happen. She’d needed it. I had, too, but this wasn’t a normal punishment session. There’d been no folding of the clothes when she kneeled. We’d just been talking.
I fucked her through three intense orgasms before I finally let myself shoot off deep in her ass.
And then I was quick to cut the zip-ties from her wrists and ankles, and the rope holding her to the bed. I’d had to link them in a chain at her feet because she isn’t as long as the bed, but I only needed to cut the first and last.
“Don’t change yet,” I told her. “Five minutes. Maybe ten. I need to hold you and comfort you first.”
She nodded, and cuddled into me while I rubbed her wrists. They’d bled in a few places. I’d known they probably would. Zip-ties are harsh.
I rubbed her bottom after I’d soothed her wrists and ankles. I wanted to spend time with her tiger, but I wished I’d said we would wait until morning for her to change. I wanted to hold her like this through the night.
But the hamburger meat was probably already in the hallway, waiting for us. I’d placed another order for steaks and fries, and told them I’d let them know thirty minutes before we were ready for them. The restaurant would be open until three in the morning, and it was only ten at night. We should be fine.
I held her ten minutes and kissed her eyebrows. “Okay, Kitten. I can’t wait to meet your tiger. It’s time.”
“Yeah. It is. I’m sorry I had to keep her from you.”
“No more. I want to see all of you, Kitten. Want to get to know you in both of your forms.”
She’d seen my wolf. At some point, we’d need to let the wolf and tiger out at the same time, but not tonight.
This night was for the man and the tiger.
She went to the bathroom first, which seemed odd, but when she came out a few moments later, my heart stilled. Her eyes were iridescent blue, a color you should only see on butterfly wings, or glazed pottery, or the finest fabrics. Hiding those eyes was a travesty, but I understood why she had to. No one’s eyes were that color naturally.
She went to the door, opened it, and pulled the meat inside. It was in four large containers, and she lined them up side-by-side and took the lids off.
I expected her to say something before she changed, but she leaned down, as if she was going to touch her toes, and then the shift just happened, like a wave. A sparkly, magical wave.
And I couldn’t believe the tiger before my eyes — so beautiful it took my breath away.
If I’d had to name this tiger, I’d have called it a copper tiger. The part that’s usually orange was copper, the part that’s usually white was gold, and the part that’s usually black was kind of a burnt brassy color.
A good portion of a tiger’s face is white, which meant most of her face was gold. Shiny, metallic gold fur, glistening in the full spectrum lighting. These rooms were designed for humans and shapeshifters to possibly have to live in long term, in the case of an emergency, so the lighting was important.
“Can I touch you?”
The tail swished. Conflict. She chuffed. Not really a roar, but the sound of a roar on both the in breath and out breath. Constant. Not terribly loud.
And then she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, looked up, and let loose with a roar that would’ve made my bowels release if I’d been human and in a jungle somewhere.
My kitten was a mighty tigress. I smiled at her, but it seemed to annoy her. “Do you want me to be afraid of you, Kitten? We both know you can probably eat me before I could manage to get changed, and even if I did, you’d likely win in a fight in this small room.”
She turned her back on me, her tail swishing.
And then she turned and leaped, landing with her feet on either side of me, pushing me back on the bed. I was surprised the mattress held. I knew the bed would — shapeshifters don’t scrimp when buying furniture we plan to have sex on.
I looked up into her huge mouth on her gigantic fucking head, and I stroked the side of her nose back towards her jaw.
“You’ll always be my Kitten, even when you’re a massive, irritated tiger. You should eat, Kitten.”
She did the modified growl/chuff thing at me again, and then did as I suggested and went to the other side of the room to eat. I walked into the bathroom and filled the bathtub with water. Not all animals want to drink after they eat. I wasn’t sure if tigers would or not.
I watched her eat, and then sat still and let her explore the room, sniffing every nook and cranny. She went into the bathroom but I didn’t hear her drink. When she returned, she was in human form again, and I could only stare in awe at her hair.
It was streaked gold, copper, and the dark brassy color, and it was longer than her butt.
The streaks were obvious tiger stripes, though I’m not sure how nature managed it in hair that long.
And her eyes were mesmerizing. I could fall into them and get lost.
“Oh, Kitten. It’s really a shame you can’t let the world see you like this. You have always been stunningly beautiful to me, but this is...” I stood and walked to her. “I have no words, Kitten.”
“I could be like this in the ambush. I only had to dye my hair when I travelled between ambushes, or when we got to go somewhere as a special treat.”
“Your mom came to you, right? You weren’t allowed to visit her ambush?”
“My dad and brothers all went with me to see her once every-other-year for a few days, so I could see that side of the family — grandparents and cousins. I was allowed to talk to them all I wanted on the phone, but we couldn’t video chat often, since the ambush didn’t
want any images of us to get out. Every once in a while, we’d shave our heads and have a nice long video chat, and then change so our hair would come back.”
“I’m going to let the restaurant know we’re thirty minutes out from wanting our steaks. Will you color your hair tonight or in the morning?”
“Tonight. If the building should catch fire, or some other emergency happened, it would be bad if my hair looked like this.”
She had a wide toothed comb, and she squirted white stuff on the teeth and ran it through her hair a few times, then squirted more on the teeth and did it again.
“This is a bleaching solution. If I don’t do this, the tiger stripes are still obvious when I put the blonde on it. This breaks them up enough, you still know there are different shades of blonde, but you don’t see the original pattern.”
A different solution went on her whole head once she’d combed the first through, and we talked while it sat. She showered, got out, blow dried her hair, and then put the blonde dye on. It looked purple, but she assured me it would look like it usually does once it did its thing. She’d put her contacts in by this time, and I realized it was so whoever brought our steaks wouldn’t see the blue.
The food came, and she sat with plastic over her hair and a towel wrapped around the plastic, holding it all in while we ate. The smell had burned my nose and lungs and eyes, at first, but I’d turned the ventilation system on down here and it wasn’t so bad now.
Dawg had collected the empty ground beef containers when he brought our food. He’d also brought two six-packs of beer and two bottles of wine — the beer I prefer and the wine Kitty loves.
“These aren’t your brothers, right?” she asked. “I mean, they’re in a different chapter.”
“Still my brothers. I’m not as close to them as I am the ones in my chapter, but I’d still lay down my life for any of them, and they’re making sure we’re taken care of.”
Squatch (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 4) Page 17
