by Joey W. Hill
"There's my brat. Let's play with that some." He shifted and she caught a gasp in her throat as he seized the chain on her collar, jerking her head down so that the only thing between her nose and the floor was his fist, closed around the chain, right against the D-ring of the collar.
As he held her that way, he pressed a kiss to her spine, worked his way along that valley toward her raised hips. She dipped her head, tried to scratch his hand with the semi-stiff corner of the gag. If she hadn't been wearing it, she would have bitten his hand, but since his large fist looked like all hard bone and knuckles, and was the size of a grapefruit, she was sure it would have been as ineffectual as a newborn kitten exercising her tiny teeth.
He tsked, hooked the neck chain to the steel handle with another clip so she was forced to stay in that position, her ass high in the air, face close to the floor. Getting to his feet, he left her there, returning to the table. She was relieved to see him put down the dragon tail and pick up the paddle. Despite her anxiety over her vulnerable position, she could handle that, actually yearned for impact play.
He began to use that on her ass, firm strokes that made her buttocks wobble, and followed it up with kneading fingers that stayed frustratingly far away from her slick pussy. She lifted up to him, trying to tell him what she wanted.
"That a girl." He cupped her between her legs, his fingers like a hook under her body, curved over her pubic mound, his palm against her labia. His grip there kept her in position as he started to alternate blows around his hold, swatting her bottom with more and more strength. Too much... It started to burn, burn fiercely. Her fingers clenched and she cried out against the gag, tried to lower her hips, tuck them down. He just held her up higher.
When she was sure her ass was on fire and bruised as hell, he put the paddle aside, parted her buttocks and slid his tongue around her rim, his fingers now pushing inside her cunt. Oh God... The change in sensation was mind-boggling. As his thumb stroked over her clit, then pushed under it, finding a million nerve endings, she struggled anew, pleading, the sensation overpowering, overwhelming. She was screaming, yet with that gag, it was just a muffled, desperate squealing sound, no louder than a squeaky door. When she thought she might die from the agonizing pleasure, he eased that pressure and returned to a light brush of her clit and the sensitive flesh around it. He played at her rim with his mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing the crinkles around the opening, then slowly pushing in.
God, it felt so good. A shudder racked her, a climax rising, but he closed his fingers over her swollen clit and twisted it, roughly enough it kept her grounded, though her body pulsed like an alarm.
He rose again, went to the table. With his back to her, he opened the snaps of his shirt, shrugged out of it, revealing the white tank beneath it. He pulled that over his head, the rippling movement of a powerful male animal, and her gaze slid over golden skin, dropping to his ass. The denim snugged over it briefly when he unbuckled the belt, stripped it.
He picked up one of the condoms and turned toward her. Showing he definitely had a cruel streak, her Master moved back behind her so she was denied the sight of him unzipping his jeans, tearing open the foil and rolling the condom over his turgid shaft. She heard a squirting sound, like maybe there'd been extra lubricant in the packet and he was applying it. A moment later, he put the head of his cock where his mouth had been.
She hadn't been entirely prepared for that idea, hadn't made the connection that was where he was going with this, but his hands were on her back, stroking then gripping her hips, holding her fast as he began to ease his substantial cock into her.
"Such a pretty little thing you are. So delicate."
She'd had something pretty enormous in her ass once upon a time, since the Dom at Club Surreal had been over-endowed, but that had been a long time ago and Leland was no lightweight either.
"Easy, darlin'. Just push out. You can take me. This is the way it's going to be tonight. I'm fucking your ass, cunt and mouth a couple times each, just to make sure you get the point. You're mine. You can act up all you want. I'll beat your pretty little ass, fuck you into submission as often as I need to do it. And I'll enjoy every minute of it." He dropped over her then, his forearms braced on either side of her shoulders as he slid all the way home, introducing a burning sensation that had enough pleasure wrapped around the pain she was shuddering, whimpering.
"If you cry, Celeste, I want it to be the right kind of tears. Understand?"
She nodded, her forehead all the way to the floor as he withdrew, pushed back in. He wasn't hard or cruel about it, just relentless and irresistible. Her thighs quivered against the restraints holding her open as he took his good, sweet time fucking her ass. He stayed away from any clitoral massage, so though she was insanely aroused from him shoving into her backside, and then even more from the way he straightened and gripped her hips so he could pound into her more smoothly, she couldn't come.
"Your climax is up to me, Celeste. But you can beg through that gag all you want. Just makes my dick harder. I can fuck you until you're sore as hell. But I'll take care of my baby, make it all better."
He pushed in deep, withdrew slow, then speeded up again. He caught the hair on her crown, jerked her head up so she felt the pull of the collar against the back of her neck as he worked his hips into her, rotated, drilled in deep. She cried out against the gag as he came for the first time, grunting, hips working against her thoroughly, the open zipper of the jeans biting against her sensitive ass.
When he was done, he slowly withdrew, leaving another line of kisses down her spine, all the way to the dimples over her ass. The condom was stripped and tossed in a small waste can under the table, his jeans fastened and zipped. Then he picked up the rose-tipped flogger.
He straddled her, standing over her to bring the length of the flogger beneath her and catch it with his other hand, tightening the straps in one twisted line over the top of her breasts. As he constricted the hold, her breasts tilted up from the pressure, the nerves tingling to emphasize how aching the peaks were, begging for the touch of his mouth, his hands. When he released the whip, he draped it over her neck and slid his hands under her. As he cupped her curves and began to fondle, her hips jerked in a coital rhythm, begging for release, to be fucked, arousal trickling down her thighs. With her legs spread, she was sure she had a pool growing on the floor between them.
Not until she was making utterances of hungry need did he pick up the whip and move back. She looked down beneath her, and saw she was right. The mat had a small puddle beneath her legs, and she could see the glistening tracks along her thighs. He put his hand on her hips.
"You'll like this."
The flogger's rose tips were like drumming rain against her back, buttocks and thighs, curving up under her to tease her breasts, lick at the insides of her thighs. He landed a few blows against her pussy, the stroke of the stiff braids compelling her to undulate her hips like a lap dancer.
"That's it, darlin'. Show me your cunt. Show me you want to be fucked by your Master."
It was all she wanted, everything she'd ever wanted. Time had stopped outside this room. It was about him, whatever he was doing to her. Her helplessness and panic that she couldn't stop any of it was balanced with the reassurance that she couldn't stop any of it.
"Time to get back to your punishment." He picked up that flexible rod that shone in the candlelight. He slid it under her chin first, teasing her collarbone with light flicks. Then he dropped to one knee before her, and took off the second clip of the chain so she was back to having about a foot of chain between her and the handle in the floor. He curled his fist around the chain right against her collar once again, though, so she had to stay in place. Since that let her stare at his chest, the gleaming light mat of hair on it that arrowed toward his groin, that didn't seem bad. Plus his position, resting on his heels with his thighs spread, let her see the curve of his testicles under denim. Then he started using the rod.
He flic
ked it beneath her, short movements that shouldn't have been anything, but it licked stripes along her breasts, outside, inside, over the nipples. As it started to sting like little paper cuts, he increased his hold, which drew her eyes up to his face. His implacable expression, the heat of lust in his gaze, only grew as she protested against the gag, tried to yank back and was held in place. His unwillingness to stop made her so aroused she couldn't separate physical pain from sexual frustration. She bit down on the phallic gag, lips and tongue working against it, her hips jerking in the air.
He was a gentle bear, but he could also be this, do this to her.
She tried to resist it. She glared at him, cursed him through the gag, fought. He just kept doing what he was doing. He didn't stop until she figured it out and stopped protesting. She held as still as she could, shaking, aroused, absorbing the blows. Her gaze clung to his face, the set of his mouth, the intent focus of his eyes, the steady strength that held her in place for him to do as he wished with her.
At last he set the rod aside. Bending, he kissed her brow, her wet eyes. He moved to her ear, bit and nuzzled. He hadn't released the chain, his knuckles against the collar so she felt them through the vinyl against her throat. Her ass and breasts throbbed with pain. They wanted his soothing touch, those big hands stroking her. She willed him to do that, staring at him with a pleading look she'd never admit to having on her face. But he'd taken away rational thought. Even her desires were under his command, because she knew that she wouldn't have wanted the soothing touch alone. She'd wanted the punishment as part of it. Some things had to go together.
When he finally drew back, she saw he was more than ready to take her again. His cock was an enormous impression against his jeans, no mistaking what it was. All she could think was Yes, God yes.
As he ran his hands slowly over her breasts and nipples, massaged, she moaned, closed her eyes.
"Yeah, your Master was cruel to you. He'll also be the one to make it better. It all begins and ends with me, Celeste."
He kept stroking and massaging her, taking the hurt away while leaving the arousal intact, her nipples stabbing into his palms. He teased them with his knuckles, sometimes keeping a hair's width cushion of air between her flesh and his touch so that she was straining for him. Yet when he stopped doing that and simply cradled both curves, his touch did more than soothe the physical abrasions. It reconnected the two of them, made her feel he was with her every step of the way, every strike of the rod or paddle a give and take of energy that bound them more surely together. She couldn't parse that out or define it. It simply was.
She watched with glazed eyes as he rose and went back to the table. She couldn't stop the pitiful noise as he picked up the dragon tail again. No, she just couldn't. No.
He came back to her, dropped to his heels, hooking a finger in her collar to lift her chin. "Ssshh," he murmured as she shook her head. "Okay. I know you don't like this, but I said your punishment would conclude with this. You know you need it. I'm not going to let you get away with tearing yourself down, Celeste. So here's the deal. Take it like the brave girl I know you are. Lift up your ass and keep it lifted, as much as you can. Then, when I'm done, I'm going to fuck you, Celeste, and I'm going to let you come. After that, I'll take care of you like the sweet baby you are. Be good for your Master, and he will be very, very good to you."
There'd be no "byline" spoken this time. He'd understood what she'd been asking at Darla's, her need for him to prevent her from crying wolf. But it had the side benefit of teaching her she could rely on him to understand if she'd truly reached an unbearable point. The way he studied her reactions so closely, the stroke of his fingers on her throat, told her he was waiting her out, evaluating.
She was trusting him to understand her better than she did.
She'd never let anyone have that kind of control over her, but somehow he'd put her in a position where she'd made the choice to have no choice. That dark part of her writhed and twisted in her gut, a rabid animal consuming itself. She should say fuck you, should fight him, damn it. But she didn't want to. All she wanted was this.
A part of her just...let go. Let go of all of it. She was afraid of that sharp tip, afraid of that stinger, but she thought of him inside her, taking her so deep, driving that dark part away.
Meeting his eyes, aware that her own were filled with tears for some inexplicable reason, she slowly, slowly made herself lift her hips.
"Higher."
His voice was quiet.
She complied, shook harder. Closed her eyes, squeezed them tight as she heard him shift, move behind her. Then she jumped as his mouth touched her ass. His hands smoothed over the marks the paddle had left, soothing her skin the way he'd soothed her breasts. In the meantime, his lips worked around the curve of her buttock and then over, closing over her pussy, which was so wet she heard the sucking sound between his mouth working over her and her labia. "That's my sub. Good girl. Brave girl," he said.
She was so close to climax when he drew back, she was seeing black spots in her vision. Then he straightened and she knew what was coming. She imagined her spine as a rigid tree branch to keep her ass up. The dragon tail stung her ass and she jerked, cried out at the pain. With the very next strike, her spine became a willow branch bobbing in the wind, because the subsequent snaps kept her dancing, ass wiggling this way and that as he hit low, high, middle, on the sides, on her thighs. She tried hard to keep her ass up the way he said--don't tuck--but it was so damn difficult.
Every sense should have been razor sharp, cursing him and fighting a pain that was in no way pleasant. Instead she couldn't hold on to a single protest or coherent thought. The pain tore her grip from reality and spun her into a place all about the next blow, her need for him to make it better when it was all over. He had to create this pain to open and heal the deeper wounds. You know you need it. Her remarkable faith in that astounding statement, her intuitive sense of what he'd meant, became more important than anything, which told her she'd lost her mind, a temporary insanity where she handed it all to him.
Enough, please. For the love of God. She was begging for mercy against the gag, chewing on that hard rubber, sucking on it, caught in a crazy haze of lust and agony. When the stinging stopped, she had her head to the floor, gasping against the gag. She groaned at the bliss and relief as his mouth came back to her buttocks and thighs, along with the caress of his hands. She was so sensitive, she flinched at his initial touch, but then she pushed into it as much as her bonds allowed. His touch slid over her rib cage, cupping her breasts as he knelt over her.
He released the chains attached to the cuffs on wrists, thighs and ankles, steadied her while he unhooked the chain attached to the collar. He didn't remove the collar or the gag, a reminder that she still belonged to him right now. He was her Master. He gathered her up and lifted her as if she weighed nothing, cradling her in his arms with a tenderness that made her heart hurt. Everything hurt, inside and out.
He carried her out of that room and into his bedroom, laid her on the bed with its earth-tone pillows. She had a brief impression of a dresser, a closet, a couple pictures. He was prepared here as well, for as she watched him in the semi-darkness, he pulled straps from under the mattress and secured the cuffs on her wrists and ankles to them, keeping her spread on the bed. Not uncomfortably straining, though she could only raise her arms a few inches off the mattress and slightly bend her knees but not close them. The mattress was bliss against her sore ass, but not as much as his hands there had been.
He moved to the end of the bed where she could see him and stripped off his jeans and boxers. He was standing naked before her spread, vulnerable body. The man was solid, the golden skin a terrain of layered, rolling and knotted muscle in all the right places. Hard and seasoned, like firewood. His cock jutted thick and stiff out from a trimmed pelt of pubic hair that let her see the heavy weight of his testicles hanging below. Under her gaze, he rolled on another condom and then straightened, his curled
fist stroking himself as he simply stood there.
Her stomach quaked as his eyes slid over her with leisurely pleasure. Possession. All his, to do with as he desired. He owned her, every reaction. He'd said he was in charge of everything. She hadn't entirely understood that at the beginning, but she did now in a way that normally would terrify her and raise every defensive shield she had. But her mind was as securely under his command as the rest of her.
Her cunt was slick again, inner muscles contracting as she remembered his promise. She'd been good for her Master. Hadn't she?
"As much as I love fucking a sub, this is always my favorite moment," he said. "When she realizes she's mine, her eyes all pleading, mouth soft, her pussy wet. And the longer I stand here, looking like I want to take everything she's got and then push her twice the distance beyond that, the more she trembles. Afraid and wanting at the same time. There's some of that inside a Master as well." His voice was low, conversational, but those golden eyes were alive with fire that was licking over every inch of skin he was studying. "Afraid I'll want too much, demand too much. It's like I want to work you so hard I'll destroy you, even as I want to protect you from the whole damn world."
She was shaking, more violently with every word. The noises she was making were similar to when he'd been using the dragon tail. No more. Have mercy. She was cracking inside, and the poisons deep inside would take her over, overwhelm her. She'd have no defenses left with him. Which she was pretty sure was his intent.
He stretched out over her, settling his body between her spread legs, his bare flesh against hers. Bracing his elbows by her shoulders, he framed her face in his large hands. He was keeping his weight mostly lifted off of her, his cock brushing her pelvis, teasing her clit with the length pressed between them. He was a big man, so his hips forced her thighs out wider, emphasized that she was spread and held down for him. She stared up at him, spoke against the gag. He couldn't understand the words, but he understood the emotions.
