by May, Linnea
I have a faint idea what that something could be, and what he intends to do with it.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns. “But you brought it on yourself, you brat.”
I am interrupted by the first blow before I can come up with a witty reply. I gasp, but don’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. Not yet.
Unlike other times, he doesn’t add pauses between the strikes but lets them rain on my behind in a consecutive sequence without giving me time to process the pain that each one of them causes.
I clench my teeth and groan, taking in every fiery cut that meets my skin. He chose the flogger, a toy that he has used on me before - but in a gentler manner.
Soon, my breath turns into heavy panting and huffing. My groans increasingly sound like whimpering, and the sweat that runs down my forehead is soon accompanied by tears.
But he doesn’t stop. At this point, he usually would.
He continues to place blow after blow on my behind in a steady and repetitive succession. His motions don’t change, but the pain does.
Each spanking turns into an atrocious sting.
It is too much. I can’t control my reactions anymore.
Involuntary cries escape my mouth, growing louder and more desperate with each spanking.
The leather straps that cut into my tortured skin could just as well be knives. The pain is agonizing.
I start to hyperventilate in an attempt to deal with this unknown kind of pain. This is going to leave marks, heavy marks. I would not be surprised if they were bloody, too.
No one has ever done something like this to me, not even him. I can hear him breathing deliriously between the blows, and for a moment I fear that he might have lost it. That his anger at me has taken over, and he is beating me out of control.
The thought scares me.
My vision blurs by tears and vertigo, but I can still perceive the shimmering lights more than thirty floors below. I wonder if anyone down there can hear my screams. It is unlikely.
The intensity of his merciless hits becomes too overwhelming. My hands still rest on the balustrade, but my body convolves and flinches beneath his spankings.
“No!” I cry out. “Stop! Please!”
But instead of stopping, he increases his speed and grants me with an especially fierce array of strikes.
I start sobbing uncontrollably. “Please! Stop! Pleea-heea-se!”
I can’t hold my position any longer. My knees give way, and my body slowly descends, as if he was hammering me down like a nail that is sticking out.
I rest my forehead between my hands on the balustrade and gather all of my remaining strength not to fall on my knees completely.
Then he stops.
I don’t move but stay with my hands down, shivering and howling with agony. I can’t help it.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, don’t…”
He is standing next to me and doesn’t move for a while. I can feel his eyes on me as I fall to pieces before him.
My knees hit the ground while my hands still hang on the balustrade.
I flinch when I feel his hands on my shoulders. But his touch is tender.
Without saying a word, he gently pulls me into an upright position and back up on my feet.
I don’t dare to look at him and keep my head low and my eyes closed.
The sobbing won’t stop. No matter how hard I try to gather myself, my body keeps shaking and forcing me to wail and whimper.
Cedric softly turns me around so that I am facing him and wraps his arms around me. I can feel his heartbeat as he presses my naked body against his chest. He is anything but calm. Despite his controlled demeanor, his heart is in uproar.
He leans down and starts planting loving kisses on my tear covered cheeks while I continue to sob, only slowly calming down.
Just as I want to lift my head and open my eyes, he places his hand on my face and whispers: “No.”
I comply and keep my eyes closed, only for him to blindfold me a moment later.
I thought that this was it, that this vicious spanking would be the only punishment I was to receive. But it seems that he is not done yet. Despite the gentle nature of his motions, I can tell that he is not ready with whatever he plans to do to me.
He withdraws himself from me, and I remain standing by myself, with my eyes covered and my naked body still shivering with agony. The ache on my behind still burns like a thousand needle sticks.
I cannot see him, but I know he is looking at me, observing me. He takes my hand and pulls me behind him as he starts walking. We are walking too fast for my own comfort, but I can’t do anything but follow him because he has no consideration for my blindness.
The skin on my sore behind stings with each step I take. I cannot even imagine what it would feel like if I had to sit down right now. I don’t think I would like to find out.
I am disoriented and cannot figure out where we are going at first. Until he stops and gives me a sudden push in the back, forcing me to fall forward.
I yelp in surprise, fearing that I might hit the ground. But my hands and knees don’t land on the wooden floors we have been walking on but a soft mattress. The bed-like play area we saw earlier.
“Get on there,” he hisses.
I lost my will to dissent, but cannot bring myself to reply with the obligatory “Yes, Sir”. A subtle act of defiance that is met with another slap on my tortured behind.
I clench my teeth as I crawl on the mattress, waiting for further instructions.
“Should I make you lay on your back?” he asks. “I bet that wouldn’t be fun for you right now, would it?”
That bastard. I bite my lip, withstanding the urge to give him a bratty reply.
“No, Sir,” I bring forth.
“It would be more comfortable, though,” he adds, making a humming sound as if he was considering the option.
“Please, it-”
“Shut up,” he interrupts. “It’s not like you get to decide this.”
I remain in an all-fours position while he keeps standing behind me, pondering about what to do next.
“Alright,” he concludes. “I’ll be nice. We’ll give your ass a little rest. Stay like this, but bend over, get on your elbows.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. “Sir.”
“Good girl,” he replies. More than ever, his words are like heart-balm. I hadn’t even realized how much I craved to hear them until now.
“You should see it, though,” he adds, while I am getting into position, lowering my upper body down onto my elbows and instinctively hollowing my back so that my ass faces up. “Beautiful. You look absolutely stunning. And the best thing is, it will stay like this for a while. My marked, little beauty.”
I blush. His words make me proud.
I took it. I will have marks to prove it.
My pride is pushed aside by worry when he reaches for my wrists and ties them together. He fastens them somewhere at the head of the bed frame. I don’t remember seeing something like a post, but there must be something there. He pulls at my tied hands, pulling them up to the front so that I am forced to lean down further until my forehead reaches the mattress.
He moves around to the other side and takes hold of my left ankle, wrapping another piece of rope around it. He gives it a little pull, forcing me to spread my legs further and move my foot closer to the lower edge of the mattress. Then he repeats the same at my right ankle and takes a step back, examining his work.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks, but the tone of his voice suggests that he is not concerned about my comfort.
“Yes, Sir,” I mumble, partly suffocated by the mattress.
“Let me see how you are doing,” he whispers.
He climbs on the mattress behind me, placing himself between my legs. I have been in compromising positions like this before, but I don’t think I could ever get used to being exposed like this in front of him. Never. It still causes me to tremble with excitement and anticip
ation.
He seems to get up on his knees and leans over me, placing a finger on my upper back. I shiver when he starts to move it slowly along my spine, grazing over my skin with just the lightest touch. The sensation is electrifying, a stirring tickle.
Until he reaches my lower back and gets dangerously close to the tortured skin on my behind.
He pauses for a moment, monitoring my reactions, or waiting for me to object, to beg him not to touch me there.
But I want him to do exactly that. I can still feel a burning ache from the spanking, but it is getting lighter with every moment that passes. I am curious to find out what it would feel like if it met with his gentle touch.
I moan when he finally continues his journey down my back and carefully brushes over my sore skin. It burns and stings.
The contradiction drives me out of my mind. His touch could hardly be lighter, yet it causes this immense distress.
Pain has never felt better.
My moans grow louder when he continues his journey. His finger wanders lower and closer to my center.
Shortly before he reaches my core, he pauses again. I subtly lean back into him in an attempt to edge him on. Of course, that is exactly what he wants.
I hear him chuckle behind me. But he is nice enough not to tease me any longer.
I moan into the mattress when his fingertips touch my labia for the first time. His hands feel a little chilly against my glowing skin, which only shows how heated my center is.
He slowly parts my folds and lets one finger slide between them.
“What a way to take your punishment,” he breathes. “I beat the living hell out of you, and you get wet like the good little slut you are.”
I groan as he starts fondling the wetness between my legs. Blood rushes to my cheeks, a sweet combination of embarrassment and arousal.
“Good girl,” he praises as I start convolving with pleasure, leaning back into his divine hands.
He starts massaging my clit with one finger while another slides inside of me. Then two, three. It starts hurting with the third one, but I welcome the pain.
I catch myself moving back and forth, fucking his fingers with almost pathetic desperation. There is only one thing I would enjoy even more.
“Fuck me,” I beg. “Please, Sir. Fuck me.”
He laughs and intensifies the pressures on my nub, causing me to lift my head and groan with relish.
“No, no,” I add. “Don’t… Don’t make me come. Please, I-”
“This is not for you to decide,” he interrupts. “I decide how you come, little girl. And when.”
I let out a loud moan of desperation.
Okay, fine then.
I lower my head and lean back into his touch, relishing his intrusive massage. My orgasm is only moments away. Already, I can feel the first few waves of pleasure rolling over me.
Then he removes his hand.
I let out another sigh, desperate with hunger and so damn close to climax. I know he is the one who decides when I am allowed to come but is he also planning to prolong it with these unfair moves?
It turns out that it is even worse than that.
“I decide,” he repeats. “And you wait.”
He gets up from the mattress, and I raise my head in question. Even if I weren’t wearing the blindfold, it would be hard for me to determine what he was up to.
I keep my head up and listen. My breath gets in the way of fully understanding where he is or what he might be doing. He must be standing next to me, stock-still and looking down on me. I try to regain composure and keep my panting and shivering under control. But with the state that I am in, that is easier said than done.
But then I hear him.
I hear him walking away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
So I wait.
And wait.
It is still warm outside, even at night. But a fresh breeze reminds me that I am on top of a high-rise building, tied to a bed frame, with my face down and my ass up. The nocturnal gusts blow at my exposed wetness.
If anyone asked me what part of the punishment was worse, the ruthless spanking or being trapped in this situation, I would definitely go for the latter.
This is torture.
My core still throbs with hunger, and if I could, I would finish the job myself. But there is no way for me to do that.
Even if I could, I don’t know if I would dare to do it. I heard him walk away and couldn’t detect any sounds of his return, but that doesn’t mean that he is not standing or sitting a few feet away and keeping his eyes on me. If he doesn’t want me to know that he is around, I won’t know.
Moments pass, then minutes. I have no sense of time and don’t know if it has only been ten minutes or even close to an hour since he left me here.
I have calmed down. While I was still alert and tense during the first few minutes after he left, I now feel more and more muscles relax. As far as relaxation is possible in this posture to begin with.
My position is not exactly uncomfortable, but it is not meant to be maintained for such a long time. My back and my neck are starting to hurt. Now that my arousal is on definite decline, my center starts to feel cold, especially when another breeze sweeps across the roof.
My breathing is calm and steady. Because I have been deprived of my vision for so long, my hearing becomes the main protagonist of all my senses. I listen for him, but also for any other noise that could tell me something about my fate.
But all I hear is the occasional gust of wind swishing through the plants that are placed all over the terrace and especially next to my head. It is almost annoying because they cover any other sound that could be a telltale of Cedric’s next move.
It is driving me mad.
I am beginning to lose my patience. If I really wanted to, I would probably be able to free myself from the constraints. I yanked on them here and there, but never with full force.
But it would be his victory if I gave up. Destroying my constraints would not be the strong thing to do. I would only disappoint him and myself.
Now that I am left with nothing to do but pointless listening, buried in my own thoughts, it occurs to me that I didn’t use my safe words.
I did exactly what he told me not to do if I wanted things to stop during the spanking. He told me that ‘stop’ and ‘no’ would not do the trick. Those would only egg him on and make everything harder on me.
Yet, those were the words that escaped my mouth while he gave my behind the most brutal treatment I have ever received.
Did I forget? Did I simply not think of the safe words? Would he have stopped if I had yelled ‘red’ instead of ‘stop’?
If someone had asked me at that very moment if I wanted the pain to stop, I probably would have said yes.
But right now, I am happy that he didn’t. Ecstatic, even. I like the afterpain; I am proud of myself for being able to go through with it until the very end. I am curious to see what my ass looks like.
I bet there are bruises on it. I hope there are.
The thought makes me smile.
I let out a deep sigh and mentally prepare myself to stay here for a while longer. He has tied me up and made me wait before, but never like this, and never this long.
There is nothing for me to do right now, except wait. As agonizing as this idea would be under normal circumstances, it allows me to rest right now, mentally and physically. There are no decisions to be made, nothing to be done. Just me and my lonesome serenity.
By now I am sure that it must have been at least an hour since he walked away from me. It might have been longer than that.
I keep changing the position of my head to ease the strain on my neck and alternately lift my elbows up as far as possible. There is little leeway for me to move around, but even the slightest change in position makes it easier and gives my joints some release.
At least he didn’t put me on my back. Normally, that would have been the far more comfortable option, but with th
e state my behind is in right now, I am glad that it is lifted up in the air.
I can still feel a little ache on the skin when I tense my muscles, and I am sure that it will hurt for quite a while after this.
I have never tried meditation, but I am sure that what I am doing right now is exactly what they tell you not to do in a meditative state. My thoughts wander off to random places and worries.
I am beginning to get drowsy. Would it be okay if I took a nap? Could I even do that without falling over?
I fear that my hands might fall asleep before my consciousness does, though. They are starting to tingle already.
I wish he would come back. This should be enough. I have learned my lesson.
A little part of me wants to call out for him to return. Maybe that is what he waiting for? I doubt it, though.
This is not for me to decide.
All I am supposed to do is wait.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I must have dozed off at some point. My sense of time is completely lost. My shoulders, elbows, and knees hurt in a way that I have never felt before.
I am dizzy and confused, but still in the position he left me in. Something woke me up. A noise that was different from the constant rustling.
A step, maybe.
My blindfold is a little askew but still covers my eyes enough for me to be unable to see.
Then I hear it again. Yes, it is definitely footsteps.
I am thrown out of my daze within a moment and just as alert as I was right after he disappeared. My heart jumps with joy and excitement. I have never welcomed any other sound as much as the faint noise of his feet on the wooden floor right now.
If it is really him, that is.
A sudden fear that someone else might be walking across the rooftop terrace takes hold of me. Cedric said that this part was private and belonged the apartment he had just bought, but how could I be sure of that?
I want to call out for him, but something keeps me from doing it. My mind has gotten used to the silence, the subtle rustling and gushing. I don’t want to be the one who breaks it.
The steps are slowly getting closer, and my pulse accelerates with every moment. They seem unnaturally loud and echo in my ears.
