by Multiple
Chloe curled her hand around my wrist and rested the other in the small of my back. There was nothing sexual in it at all, but it shot a tiny charge through my belly to have a woman touch me like that. It was such a gentle intimacy, one unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Even the pretty-boy gigolos, for all their girly skin and gentle touches, still had heavier hands than this.
She guided me through a doorway hidden by a velvet curtain. The room beyond was lit dimly with recessed lights. Three of the coffee-brown walls were adorned with thick blunt hooks, each holding a length of rope or chain, a set of cuffs. Masks, crops, whips. I felt a tingling in my belly that was almost the same as I’d felt in my palm after I’d slapped Derek.
The fourth wall was completely taken up by an enormous mirror. In the center of the room was a sturdy wooden chair, reminiscent of a throne but without armrests. An assortment of thick metal eyelets adorned the legs and back of it, but I sensed they were far more functional than ornamental.
Master Sweet pressed his body against my back and curled his hands around my upper arms.
“If your spirit is the equal of your body...” He ran his fingers across my shoulders and down the gully of my spine. “...then it will be a rare pleasure breaking you in.”
Despite my initial apprehension, his words and his touch sent a thrill through me.
He moved from behind me and my back suddenly felt cold. I watched his muscular form as he prowled to the chair, and admired his grace as he mounted it.
“Bind her. Bring her to me.”
Chloe appeared beside me with a length of smooth rope in her hands. My instincts cried out to run, to fight, but I bit down on them. I could see where this was heading and…and I wasn’t sure I hated it.
With practiced efficiency, Chloe had my wrists secured in under a minute. She led me over to Master Sweet and handed him the loose end of rope.
“Slave, lay across my lap.”
I couldn’t help it. I hesitated. This was so new to me. He curled the rope around his wrist and pulled steadily, with a strength I couldn’t resist. With Chloe’s help he had me prone across his lap, my bare ass angled out and vulnerable. My heartbeat sped with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. Even though there was something so degrading about being put over someone’s lap, there was a part of me that found it...invigorating. I wasn’t about to let him know I felt that way, though. I held my tongue and watched blankly as Chloe worked, binding me in place.
She took the rope and fed it through the eyelet at the base of the chair, leading it underneath and through a matching eyelet on the other side. She walked around and crouched behind me. From my angle I could only see her hands taking the rope, but I could sense her body heat on the backs of my thighs, feel her breath tickling across my ass…and everywhere else. I wondered if she was there to do more than just tie knots.
The rope’s firm grip around my right knee took me out of that reverie. I watched as Chloe fed the rope back through the loop and then around my left knee. I understood the chair’s construction much better now. Looped around it, with Master Sweet’s strong legs as a cushion, I had nowhere to go. Intriguingly, there was still enough slack in the rope that I could spread my knees apart.
“Look in the mirror.”
I raised my head and stared. I barely recognized myself. In the low light, my black hair almost blended with the room. I could see enough to know it was a mess, though.
He slipped his hand onto my ass and rested it there, soft, unmoving. The deceptively light touch sent chills rippling across my body.
“You’ve earned a spanking for your disobedience. You will watch as your punishment is delivered, and you will count the strokes.”
My breath hitched in my chest. Spanking. I hadn’t had one of those since I was a little girl. So demeaning, and yet the thought of it sent heat rushing between my thighs. There was a part of me that longed for it. In a world where I constantly had to think at least six to twelve months ahead, a consequence that was both immediate and tangible somehow felt like a luxury.
He raised his hand, cocked it like a gun. I followed the movement instinctively, admiring the pure power of it, knowing full well that its force was about to come crashing down on me.
“No. Look into your own eyes.”
I did as instructed. My mouth hung open as I tried to catch my breath, which had begun racing. I clenched my muscles and squeezed my thighs together, waiting for what came next.
The blow, when it landed, cracked like a pistol shot. For the slightest instant all I felt was the jolt through my body. My vision blurred with the impact. Then the sting bloomed on my ass and began to tingle. I watched my own mouth stretch, listened as my breath hissed in. I would not cry out.
“Count it!” he demanded.
“One.” I barely recognized my own voice straining to hold back the pain.
The second blow landed on my left cheek. I tried to curl into a ball, but was hampered by the rope and Master Sweet’s legs. My thighs rubbed together as I writhed futilely, trying to cool the hot skin of my ass.
“Two.” It came out as a squeak.
The next few swats came in quick succession. The immediate pain was a shock to my system, but the heat that came afterwards turned into an exquisite agony I hadn’t expected to feel. My whole backside throbbed and those warm pulsations ran straight to my core.
He paused to gently rub away the sting. It was such an unexpected kindness and the words came out before I could stop myself. “Thank you.”
“A tender ass like yours will require some seasoning, but you have done well so far. You have only ten strokes to go.”
Ten? My muscles clenched. I strained against the ropes.
“Fighting it will only make the pain worse. Lose yourself in the sensation. Channel that feisty determination into something useful and count the strokes.”
I did as he ordered, concentrating on the charged silence before each sharp slap of his hand, riding each razored sting like it was a wave. He wanted determination; he’d get it, in spades.
It was hard to keep my eyes open, but I stared into the mirror as much as I could. Watching the tears burst unbidden from the corners of my eyes, seeing my cheeks redden in harmony with my ass, studying my mouth as it clenched on impact then slackened to let the air flood into my lungs. By the sixth stroke I could barely count out loud. By the ninth, I was clinging to his legs for fear I’d melt through onto the floor.
“Good girl,” he said approvingly when he landed the last smack.
What would normally sound condescending instead gave me a warm glow. If this was the worst he could do then I knew I’d already won. The pain was unwelcome but not unbearable, and the aftermath left a strong and unexpected ache between my thighs.
My nose had joined in with my eyes, my face a mess of liquid. Master Sweet smoothed his heavy hands over the aching stings. “Chloe, bring me the oil. And a cloth.”
Chloe appeared in my peripheral vision and dabbed at my face with a soft towelette. A warm drizzle coated my backside. Master Sweet slowly kneaded my tender cheeks. Every nerve within me was heightened by his gentle ministrations. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips, nor the hot lust developing between my thighs.
His voice was steady and smooth, betraying no sign of his physical exertion. “You’ve done well. You’ve listened and endured your first punishment. For that, you will be rewarded.”
His hand sank down between my thighs, finding me already wet. “Spread,” he ordered.
I happily complied. This was the kind of reward I could definitely enjoy.
His thick fingers, coated in oil, traced the slick folds of my pussy. I bit my lip in anticipation, but the digit remained annoyingly perched just outside of my entrance.
“You will stop waxing down here.”
Grow my bush back? I hadn’t had pubes since 2004!
“This ridiculous parody of womanhood is of no use to me. You will let nature have its way, as I will have mine.”
“Yes, Master Sweet.” Frankly, I would have agreed to anything if I thought it would get his fingers inside me. The heat from my spanking had distilled straight into my pussy.
He absently flicked my clit, causing me to gasp and buck. “Have you ever had a clip on here?”
What kind of a question was that? “No.”
“You will enjoy it.” He continued to trace my sopping lips with his thick finger. I couldn’t take much more of this teasing. I shifted my body back, desperately aiming to impale myself onto that digit, and was rewarded with a sharp slap across my already burning cheeks.
“Your body is mine, slave. You will get pleasure when and if I choose to give it to you. Taking it for yourself will earn you another punishment.”
Can’t blame a girl for trying. “Sorry.”
“Sorry who?” His hand left my ass. I quickly looked up and spotted it cocked back in the mirror, ready to strike another painful blow.
“Master,” I blurted out. “Sorry, Master Sweet.”
The hand came down softly. “You’ll learn in time. Now, let’s continue. Have you ever had anal sex?”
His hand swept slowly up my folds, coming to rest right against the rosebud of my ass. My breath jolted in my chest as he traced the tightly clenched opening. For everything, and everyone, I had done, that was one thing I hadn’t. My ass was strictly a no-fly zone. Yet here I was, with a thick, oily thumb pressing harder and harder against it, and powerless to stop it. Part of me wondered secretly if I even wanted to.
“No,” I whimpered, not caring how weak I sounded. I tensed, clenching all of my muscles in fear of what he might do.
“Relax,” he ordered. “You are mine. All of you. I will have you as I please.”
It took all the determination I had to do as he asked. Every fiber of my being had been set on high alert. But though I feared the unknown, I couldn’t ignore the small part of me that wondered about it. Master Sweet exuded such certainty and strength. Though he’d already punished me once, it hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. If this was all going to work, then at some point I’d have to trust him.
Slowly, he worked the tip of his thumb in a circular motion on my puckered bud. His other hand came down between my legs, drawing a straight line through my lips to my aching clit. His hands worked in tandem, drawing out a long moan from deep down inside of me.
“You see, slave? I know what you need much better than you do.”
I tried not to squirm as he pressed inward, breaking the barrier of my back passage. I held my breath, expecting pain, but to my surprise the intrusion was quite pleasurable. I’d never have expected it, nor would I ever have allowed anyone else to do this to me. But being restrained, powerless, and at the mercy of Master Sweet, had forced me to experience this unique sensation. I still had that stubborn tiger of pride roaring within me that this was all wrong. That I was giving up too much of myself. But the pleasure I felt was, I knew, far more about the numbing of authority than it was about the thumb in my ass. I felt myself opening up emotionally to the idea of submission as I opened up physically to the man who was dominating me.
“This is why I am the Master.”
“Yes, you are,” I moaned against his leather pants as he slowly flexed that thick digit inside me.
The combination of his thumb in my ass and the other working my clit had my body buzzing. My cream dribbled down between my legs as a powerful orgasm drew close. Lost in the moment and panting as I neared the precipice, I rammed backwards against his hands, as far as the restraints would let me.
I realized it a second too late. I was in trouble.
Mater Sweet slid his thumb out. I felt abandoned, and worse, I knew another punishment was about to be delivered.
“You have been warned. This body is mine to do with as I please. You will only reach climax at my choosing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“We will make sure of that. Chloe, bring me the paddle and another cloth.”
That sent a charge of electricity through my body. I raised my head and watched Chloe in the mirror as she selected a tool that looked like a stretched spatula encased in leather, then brought it, together with a fresh towel, to Master Sweet.
He toweled the oil from my back and flanks. When I was dry again he took the paddle and pressed it to my ass. The cool surface felt heavenly for a second before my body heat infused it. He began to trace the contours of my body with the tool, sometimes lifting it and letting the wrist-strap tickle my back.
I looked at him in the mirror, fear written across my face. I dared not speak without permission, but Master Sweet clearly understood me.
“Consider everything we’ve done so far to be a warm-up. To heighten your senses and prepare your tender bottom for this...your true correction.”
No, not another spanking. And it sounded like this one would be way more serious. I’d been so close to orgasm, one more second and I’d have felt the sweet body rush of release, and I had to go and fuck it up. Perhaps there was a lesson to learn in these sessions.
Master Sweet brought the paddle up to my face and held it there. “Kiss it.” He saw my expression morph from fear to puzzlement. “Speak your question.”
“Master, why?”
“Be specific, slave.”
“Sorry, Master. Why would I kiss this object? It’s only going to hurt me.”
“Ask yourself how many kisses you’ve already spent on those who’ve wounded you.” He caressed my cheek with the paddle.
“You will learn so much from this implement. It will take you to places inside of you that you wish you could find alone. That is not an intimacy you wish to share with a stranger.”
For years now my only intimacy had been with strangers. Which further backed up Derek’s insistence that it was time for me to change. I puckered up and with my eyes squeezed shut, kissed the paddle. Surprisingly, I felt less stupid than I expected to.
“You have earned back the right of free, respectful speech. Good girl.”
It was the third time he’d said that to me. Those two little words – good girl – gave me chills on the back of my neck. I sought no praise in daily life, and that’s exactly what I got. The curious thrill it gave me made me want to hear it again. The idea that I had the power to make him say it, make him call me his good girl, simply through obedience, ignited a craving within me.
He switched the paddle back to his spanking hand and rested it against me, right where the base of my ass blended with the backs of my thighs.
“You are making progress, but you still have much to learn.”
“Yes, Master Sweet.” I resigned myself to the punishment, and even thought I might be beginning to understand it. I should have remained still. And next time, I knew I would. If only to hear him tell me I was good.
“Let us continue with that lesson. We will start with ten.”
I held my breath. He swatted the paddle against me, so swiftly that it felt like a bite. I couldn’t contain the small scream that leapt from my throat.
“Count it.”
“One,” I squeaked.
Another swat. Another squeal. “T...two.”
Swat. “Three!” Fierce determination infused my voice with an animalistic frenzy.
With every blow that landed, I felt a brand new white flower of pain against my skin. This was a much more intense punishment than my warm-up. But for all that, I somehow knew I could take it. The Master had already found parts of me I never knew I’d lost, and I sensed he had much more strength than he was using right now. Letting go of control, allowing myself to be cared for and punished by the Master was already having an effect on my stress levels.
With every blow the weight on my shoulders – the money, the investments – seemed to lighten. As if the quakes running through my body were dislodging everything, sending it into some abyss. Stroke by stroke the world shrunk. By the seventh, my entire universe consisted of the stinging red skin on my ass and thighs.
“You are a swift learner. Perhaps I will relieve you of the final two strokes.”
I swam back into full consciousness. “No, Master. Please.” Two hours ago I would have thought he was cutting me slack. Now it felt like I was being short-changed.
“Excellent. You will indeed make a fine sub.” He delivered the final two strokes in rapid time, the second seeming almost to mount the first, to multiply the sting. I stabbed a sharp breath into my lungs and held it as long as I could, holding the scream that wanted to shoot from me. For seconds that felt like hours I squeezed against that sound, compressed it from coal to diamond, until finally it shot loose like a breathy climax.
I’d barely noticed the tears this time. Even crying felt luxurious within these walls. In the business world, tears are pitiful. Here, they were cathartic, simply because they were natural.
Wordlessly, Chloe approached and took the paddle from Master’s hand. I propped my ass a little higher, waiting for him to rub at the skin.
Instead, I felt Chloe’s presence right behind me again as she worked loose the knots that bound my knees. She helped me off Master’s lap and held me up while my legs fought to stay solid. Then she led me to stand with my face in the corner of the room.
Master’s body pressed up against my back, and I ached for his soothing hands on my traumatized ass. Instead, he drew my wrists above my head and tied the rope to an iron ring. He ran his hands down the rope until they rested over mine. There was a kindness in his voice as it curled into my ear.
