by Nicole Fox
I sucked in a breath, but I did it, my ass sticking up in the air like a filthy slut, my face turned to the side.
He came around, crouching down next to me so he could look me in the eye. “That’s a good girl,” he purred, stroking my red curls as he locked my collar to the bench, hooking me in place. “Are you nervous?”
I nodded.
“I won’t hurt you too badly,” he said. “Don’t worry, slut. I just want to punish you for taking my ring.”
I shook like a leaf as I waited to see what was would happen next, my body settling into the surprisingly comfortable padding that covered the sex bench, my breasts flattened into the soft cushion of the top. I tried to move, but quickly realized I couldn’t move more than an inch or so.
He left me then, went back over to the array of toys, and disappeared from view.
I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of my own breath, of the steady, rhythmic in and out of oxygen entering my lungs, of oxygen leaving. Every footstep I heard, I assumed was just a precursor for what would happen next.
Ford seemed to be gone for an age, but when he returned he put his warm, rough hand on my ass. His rough, calloused palm rubbed over my bare backside, over my ass. He’d left my thong on me, and my heels, but I was still practically naked for him.
I sucked in a sharp breath as he touched me and pushed my hand back into a strong, surprisingly soothing touch. I knew what I wanted next, even if I was too afraid to full admit it. I wanted to be disciplined for what I’d done to him. I wanted to feel the sting on my backside, just like when I’d been bad as a child. Maybe, just maybe, he’d forgive me then?
He didn’t give me any little speech, or tell me what he was doing. He just rubbed my cheeks and the inside of my thighs.
I sighed under his touch, loving how strong and in control his hands felt. I spread my legs wider for him as his hand drifted up to my sex, rubbing over the front of my lacy thong. I moaned lowly as the tips of his fingers brushed over my clit.
Then his hand was gone.
I groaned, pushed back with my hips, and tried to find him again.
What found me instead, was a strip of leather.
I cried out in pain and pleasure, craning my neck to look back over my shoulder. I closed my eyes, the red heat radiating from my ass cheeks, traveling down my thighs.
Ford stood there, his hands tightly gripping the stretch of leather, a cruel set to his jaw. “Count them,” he said. “Count them out loud for me.” He struck me again, this time across the other cheek.
And I cried out again, the sensation almost more than I could bear. “T-t-t-two!”
Again and again he lashed me, leaving strips of heat and pain across my creamy white butt and thighs.
“Three!”
“Four!”
“Five!”
Each time I called out the number, my words were more ragged, more drawn out as I panted.
“Six!”
“Seven!”
I began to cry, not bawling or sobbing, but I could only hold back the tears for so long. Tears of pain, tears of anger at myself for having brought myself here, anger at the fact I was enjoying the feel of the leather strap across my ass cheeks, across my thighs, craving and waiting for the pain in the breaths between. My pussy was dripping. I could smell how excited I was by being in this position.
“Please, sir! Please, sir, can I take a break?”
Another strike.
“Eight!”
I felt his hand back on me, felt his fingers pushed my panties to the side and run through my wetness. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Micah?”
I pushed back onto his hand, the break from the pain making the pleasure even more intense. “Yes sir,” I groaned. “Oh, God, yes, sir.”
He ran two fingers over my sensitive clit.
I cried out and moved my hips, grinding myself against his hand like a slut in heat.
I guess I was getting too much pleasure from it, because Ford took his fingers from my clit. Instead, he stroked the folded leather strap up and down the inside of my thighs, teasing me. “Keep counting,” he said, striking my ass again.
“Nine!” I said, more moan in my voice than before. “Ten!”
“Do you understand what you did was wrong?”
I nodded fervently against the bench. “Yes, sir, I do.”
“Good. Just a few more to grow on, then.” He put his fingers back on my pussy again and began to play with my clit. He slid them all around, dancing over my most sensitive spot, tracing a little outline around and around and around.
I cried out and bit my lip. I could feel my orgasm coming, could feel it as it pushed against the dam of my inhibitions as it was ready to burst.
“Good girl,” he commended me. “Fuck my hand like a little slut. You like that, don’t you? You like not having any control over my touching you.”
“Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes, sir,” I panted, the pleasure rising up inside, taking over my body and forcing me back into his hand. “Please, sir, make me cum.”
He slipped a finger inside me and found my g-spot.
My world exploded. A volcano of pleasure pushed through the edges of my reality, overtaking everything. My whole body shook and my thighs gripped the bench tight as they spasmed, a scream ripping raw from my throat.
And then the strap came down again. But the pain didn’t interrupt my pleasure; it just seemed to melt into it, making it stronger.
The strap continued to come down, and I couldn’t keep up with the count, couldn’t make my head wrap around the numbers. I arched back, my spine bending in such a way that I feared I might break in half as I screamed. I rocked back and forth on the bench, pushing my ass into the strap as my orgasm tore through me, destroying the old me for just a moment.
Ford struck my thighs and my ass as I screamed in rapture, rocking to and fro with the ebb and flow of my orgasm.
Finally, as my pleasure seemed to fade away, the spanking stopped. He walked back around to my head and stroked my curls. “Did you like that?”
My face flushed, I nodded a little, looking up to his face. “Yes, sir,” I squeaked. “I did.”
He stroked my cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Good girl,” he said.
I glanced forward and saw the giant bulge in the front of his pants that had formed while he was spanking and playing with me. Unconsciously, I licked my lips.
“You like that, don’t you, slut?”
I glanced back up to his eyes and nodded a little.
“Do you want to feel it inside you? For me to shove it inside your dripping pussy?”
I shuddered a little as I wondered what else he could come back with, what else he could possibly want to do to me.
Ford was away for a few minutes. When he came back, he walked around in front of me. He had what looked like a small bullet shape. “Do you know what this is, slut?”
My body still coursing with tingles from my first orgasm, I weakly shook my head. “No, sir.”
“It’s a remote controlled vibrator,” he said, flicking a switch on a small controller in his other hand. It immediately sprang to loud, buzzing life, like some kind of bee on a cocktail of steroids and PCP. He grinned as my eyes went wide. “You’re going to love, and hate, this thing.”
“Hate it, sir?” I asked.
“It’s a little intense, from what I hear.” He turned it off and walked around behind me before I could say another word, though, and I felt him spread my lips and slide it inside me. It was obviously artificial, and cool to the touch, but it quickly began to warm from the moment it was engulfed within. “And we’re going to find out if you can handle it.”
I moaned a little as it filled me, not necessarily in an uncomfortable way. “Wh-wh-what are you going to do with it, sir?”
“We’re going to have a little fun,” he said, coming back around to the front and stroking my face. He flicked the switch in his hand, and the vibrator buried deep inside me came to life immediately, sti
mulating parts of me I never knew existed.
Pleasure erupted inside me, just like before, sending my eyes rolling back into my head. My mouth dropped open, and I cried out, moaning as the vibration oscillated inside me, setting off bells in my belfry, when I didn’t even know I had bells, or a belfry.
“Like that, slut?” he asked, his hand traveling down to the front of his slacks, unzipping the front and beginning to fish inside. “How about this?” And then he turned it to a higher setting.
My screaming ceased as I gasped, replaced with some wordless cry that seemed to suck my soul from me and carry it into the world. My thighs clenched the bench I was straddling, my hips thrusting and moving and bucking as I continued to gasp.
And then, as the setting went back down to a more manageable level, I saw Ford’s cock right in front of my face. Suddenly I was craving tasting him. I licked my lips, this time consciously.
He guided his cock to my mouth and pressed it to my lips, sliding it into my mouth.
I opened as wide as I could, groaning as the vibrator continued to throb like a maniacal beast deep inside me, sending waves and wave of pleasure through me.
He grabbed a handful of my wavy red curls, sliding himself deeper into my mouth as I swirled my tongue around his crown, circling it incessantly as he pushed deeper and deeper till I began to gag. Then, the setting went back to somewhere between the previous two.
I began to groan around him, gasping for breath, gasping from pleasure. I closed my lips and sucked him gently, moaning the whole time and breathing through my mouth. I wanted him; I wanted him everywhere. I wanted him to use me, to wear me out like no man ever had. I needed to be gasping out my surrender by the end of my time here. Because, quite frankly, there might not be another time when Ford, or any man, would ever do this to me again.
Because, as I sucked on his cock, as he pistoned his manhood in and out of my lips and made me gag till tears streamed down my cheeks, I realized that, yes, he was angry. But he didn’t hate me, not like I’d feared. He wanted to torture me, sure, but he also wanted to pleasure me like no man ever had. To open me up till I was like a raw nerve capable of experiencing only pleasure. This was payback, albeit a very bizarre form of it.
Not that I was complaining, even as the tears continued to roll down my cheeks, and his hot, hard length continued to push to the back of my throat. I looked up, loving the way his eyes were half-closed as he plundered my mouth as I kept . . . servicing him. I wanted him to cum for me, I realized, wanted to pull every drop from his body, to savor it for my own.
“Good girl,” he groaned, his fingers tightening painfully in my curls. “You’re taking that like a champ. How about now?” He turned the vibrator back to a higher setting.
I screamed around his cock, and I could feel his meat vibrating as I cried out one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever experienced. My body seemed to dissolve into a puddle of sensations, the pleasure swimming through my veins and every fiber of my being. But I wanted more. I didn’t want this to stop.
He turned the vibrator back to a lower setting, but continued to fuck my mouth, his girth stretching my mouth to its limits.
I locked my lips around him and tongued the underside as he slid past my lips and back again. And then I felt it, felt his hips pick up speed, felt him being to seemingly grow in my mouth.
“Such a good slut,” he panted, grabbing my hair tighter, thrusting faster into my now more than willing mouth. “Such a good girl, taking it all.”
I wanted him, wanted to drain him of every drop possible. No other woman, I realized, should have this privilege; this right that belonged only to me. Maybe it was just the endorphins from the pain on my backside talking, or the adrenaline from being stripped and tied to this cruel device, but I wanted him like I’d never wanted another man. This cock in my mouth was mine from here on out, no matter what.
I felt him begin to pulse, to grow, and I began to suck. With a guttural moan of pure manly release, he exploded in my mouth, his seed flowing over my tongue.
I wanted him desperately, and here, I had him. My eyes turned up to watch his twisting, scrunching face. I swallowed him down like it was the most natural thing in the world. God, even the way he looked as he came was somehow sexy. His eyes tightly squeezed, his lips turned down, his teeth clenched as he tried not to show his emotions by gasping out.
Sensitive and panting, he pulled himself from my mouth and stuffed himself back in his slacks.
“Please, sir,” I said. “Please, I wasn’t finished.”
He half-smiled, but didn’t answer. He stroked my hair. “You’re turning into a good little girl, aren’t you?”
I bit my lips and batted my eyelashes, nodding. “Yes, sir. Anything you want.”
He just flicked the remote vibrator to its highest setting yet and walked away.
My pussy and my abs, all my muscles, in fact, contracted like I’d just slipped a live wire deep inside me. I fought against my bonds by instinct, my whole body tensing as I screamed out in unexpected pleasure, rocking back and forth on my knees as I thrust my hips back into the air. “Oh, sir!” I screamed. “Oh! Oh God!”
I didn’t know how long he left me like that, writhing in pleasure on the bench. Time seemed to stretch, to become a long, thin stretch of thread that went from here to eternity that I couldn’t walk if I tried. Instead, I fell off the thread into a dark abyss, one where only the pleasure of my body seemed to have any hold. My vision went dark; my mind went blank. The only thing that existed was the blackness around me, and the white heat within me, pulsing through me.
And then, suddenly, it stopped the immediate stimulating pleasure getting turned off like a light, leaving behind only the after effects, the rolling waves of insanity-causing rapture. My body continued to shake, and I felt the dampness on the inside of my thighs as I continued to drip and shudder in ecstasy.
He took the remove vibrator from within me and unlocked first one ankle cuff from the table, then the other, but kept the leather manacles still attached.
Clearly, we weren’t done yet. I didn’t know how much longer I could handle, but some part deep down inside of me wanted to find out. Wanted to push itself to the limit of pleasure, of experience.
Ford slipped an arm beneath my waist, picked me up from the bench like I was just a feather, and set me down on my wobbling legs. He steadied me with a hand on my shoulder, his lips just at my ear as he stroked a hand up and down my lower back, my ass. “You like being punished like this, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“I needed to show you I was serious about punishing you for what you did,” he explained, his blunted nails trailing up and down my back. “I know Williams probably has cameras down here, but I bet he wants to see more.”
I nodded again. “Yes, sir, I understand.” As the whispered words left my mouth, I realized I was still keeping up the act even when I knew it was all just part of the show. Something inside me, though, wanted to keep it going. I yearned to be punished by Ford, especially for taking the ring.
“Good girl,” he said, squeezing my ass lightly. He reached up and, just like before, took hold of the collar circle at my throat and led me over to another spot in the room, a spot with just a low hanging chain. “Turn around.”
I obediently turned, feeling him take hold of the chain connecting my wrists. He pulled them up behind me, connecting them to the chain hanging from the ceiling.
To keep myself comfortable and able to breathe normally, I had to push my shoulders back like before, but I also had to keep them raised behind my back. The only problem was that my arms were exhausted. I found though, that if I leaned forward and stuck my ass out, I could manage it.
He came around in front and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my sopping, drenched panties. He pulled them down over my legs without saying a word and kissed my hip bones as he stooped down to pull them over my heels.
I shivered a little at the sudden moment
of tenderness. I knew it would be the last I’d feel for a while, and my mind and heart seemed to latch onto it.
Ford left me there and went back over to the wall of toys and devices. He picked out a long metal rod, and my heart stopped. It shone cruelly in the dim light, its chrome features reflecting what little illumination there was.
Oh, shit. This escalated.
He came back over and must have seen my trembling lower lip or the frightened look in my eyes. He glanced down at the bar in his hands, a small smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “This is a spreader bar. For your feet.”
I sighed in relief as he bent down in front of me and ordered me to readjust my stance. I spread my legs wider for him, and he attached the bar to both ankle cuffs he’d left on from the bench just moments ago. With him still kneeling in front of me, I gave into the urge to test my bonds, and realized I could move my legs a little, but there was certainly no way to close them. I groaned, knowing I was fully at his disposal.
