by Linnea May
Her lips part willingly for me, inviting my tongue to dance with hers in a sensual embrace. I can tell that she’s trying to lure me in for more, greedily begging for me to touch her, to fuck her. Anything but make her parade in front of me like a circus animal.
So impatient.
Her lips follow mine when I end our kiss, and her eyes are laced with yearning. The feeling is mutual. My cock is aching for her, pushing against its fabric cage with a painful craving, especially now that I’m holding her in my arms, naked, vulnerable, and so hungry for me. I pull her against my crotch to feel my hardness, letting her know how much I want her.
She moans deeply and casts a seductive smile at me. That little minx.
“Now, let’s try this one more time,” I tell her, relishing the sight of her face falling when she realizes that the runway training is not over yet.
I release her, backing away from her with deliberately slow steps. It allows her to stare at my erection visibly bulging out against the front of my trousers. Yearning and desire is written all over her pretty face, as she gapes mesmerized at the sight of it. She winces when I clear my throat in an attempt to remind her of the first and most important rule – to keep her eyes locked on mine – and she finally redirects her eyes to meet my gaze like she’s supposed to.
There are questions filling her eyes, questions she doesn’t dare ask.
Why are you doing this to me?
Why can’t we just fuck?
“This is what I want you to do,” I say, answering her unspoken questions. “Remember, you’re here to please me.”
I know she wants to roll her eyes at me, but she doesn‘t, making a conscious effort to impress me.
I know I won’t be able to break her habit of hiding her beauty overnight – it’s something she’s been doing for years of slouching – but I want her to understand what it is I’m trying to teach her. I want her to grow under my guidance, as short-term as it may be.
I want her self-confidence and poise to blossom under my supervision. She deserves to feel as beautiful inside as she is on the outside, and I want her to portray that beauty to the world and everyone in it.
And, truth be told, it’s just so much sexier to play with a girl who knows how beautiful and vibrant she is. I will earn her submission, and she will earn the pleasure that comes with submitting to me, and not only through the money I pay her. It will be earned by teaching her how she should be treated – how she deserves and needs to be treated.
She just doesn’t realize it yet.
Chapter 17
Laura
I expected a lot of things when I signed up for this. I expected him to spank me, be rough with me, pull my hair, and even choke me while he was having his way with me.
But I didn’t expect this.
I didn’t expect to be asked to parade in front of him like a model on a runway. I didn’t expect him to bark at me like a fitness trainer snarling at his client, or snipping like Tyra Banks did when she was trying to coach those naive aspiring models on her reality TV show.
I don’t like this one bit. I’ve never felt comfortable in my skin, and his demands force me to confront everything I don’t like about myself. My limbs are too long, I never know what to do with my arms when I’m walking or standing, and I’ve grown accustomed to slouching to make myself smaller because most of my friends are a lot shorter than me. I hate to stick out, and if there is one thing I could change about myself, it would definitely be my height. I would gladly give a few inches away to someone who wants them.
But he’s forcing me to do exactly the opposite, and I don’t know what to make of it. The way he looks at me is so unsettling, but yet it’s charming and sexy at the same time. It’s as if he’s eating me with his eyes, ravaging every inch of my long body with relish, as I strut up and down in front of him. Sometimes, I even catch him licking his lips, as if he’s about to eat a delicious meal.
He uses the cane on me again, several times. Each time hurts more than the one before, leaving a stinging pain on my thighs, on the back of my legs, and on my sore ass. I try to do better, but it’s so hard to break the habit that has become second nature to me over the years.
Why is he enjoying this?
It’s obvious that he‘s enjoying it. The massive bulge in his crotch hasn’t shrunk one bit since I first noticed it. He’s hard for me; he wants me.
And I want him.
The distance between us is another thing that annoys the hell out of me. When I almost fell and he caught me in his strong arms, I felt my heart start racing in my chest. I was wild with anticipation, thinking that this would be it, that I would finally feel his hands on me, everywhere, and that I would finally feel him buried deep inside me.
I’ve yet to tell him that he’s going to be my first. If I ever do, that is. Maybe I don’t have to tell him? Maybe I shouldn’t tell him? I’m sure there’s a chance that he won’t even notice that I’m a virgin. It doesn’t have to hurt, there doesn’t have to be blood…right?
“Stay with me!” he warns, and I feel another blow as it stings the flesh on my ass.
I yelp, trying to hold back the burning tears. This one hurt so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if it drew blood.
Just like the other smacks, it causes mild throbbing of after-pain that does the weirdest things to me. I can feel the thong sticking to my slit, drenched in my juices. The thought both embarrasses and arouses me at the same time.
I hate this. Why does it make me feel this way? Why is it that all I can think of is the desire to fall down on my knees in front of him and begging him to please, finally, fuck me.
You’ll scream. You’ll cry. You’ll beg me to fuck you.
He knew it would be like this. He knew it as if this was his body, his mind.
“Doll!”
I shriek when another smack brutally pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Where the hell are you?” he bellows. “You’re daydreaming instead of following my commands.”
I cast him an apologetic look, and then continue walking, slow and unsteady, but with my head held high and my naked breasts pushed out in front of me.
“I’m sorry, master,” I whisper in a soft voice laced with yearning, hoping that it might seduce him to stop this show.
I don’t know if it was my voice that wins him over, but he finally gives in and motions for me to stop.
“Stand still,” he says.
At first, I’m afraid he’s only making me stop to unleash a new round of punishments on me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he approaches me and places his big, rough hands at the side of my body with careful tenderness, as if he was afraid I’d crumble into dust.
“You did good,” he praises earnestly, leaning in for a kiss.
I welcome his soft lips on mine, immediately full of relief and excitement for what’s to come. Even though I’ve been craving his touch, I still flinch when I feel his fingers between my legs. His fingers move deftly and with purpose, shoving my soaked thong to the side of my slit in one abrupt motion, greedily sliding between my pulsating wet folds.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I feel his moan vibrating through our kiss, as soon as his fingers meet my slick arousal.
“Look at that,” he whispers, breaking our kiss. “Does this make my doll excited? Modeling for her master?”
I don’t know how to reply to this, so just answer with a blank stare, the embarrassment apparent on my flushed face.
“You did so well, I think you deserve a little treat, don’t you?” he asks, fleetingly kissing the corner of my mouth.
“Mmhmm,” I utter, unable to come up with something more eloquent.
He chuckles, and before I know it, he scoops me up into his strong muscled arms and carries me over to the bed. No one has carried me like this since I was a child, and I’m surprised how it makes me feel.
Small. Light like a feather. Desired.
I gasp in surprise when he tosses me on top of the bed, my arms awkwardly flinging
up in the air as I try to cushion my fall on to the dark silk sheet. He’s consumed with wild passion and lust now, no longer interested in keeping distance between us.
He’s hovering over me and caging me in with his arms at my sides, his full weight borne on his palms. He presses his lips onto mine once again, claiming a passionate kiss while his hands travel down to my center. I have no time to protest before he rips the thong away from my body in one strong, swift motion.
I have no time to commiserate the loss of the lacy item, because he’s lodged between my legs within moments, parting my thighs wide before forcing his lips to leave mine to travel farther south. He forces my legs as far apart as they’ll go, exposing my entrance to his dark, hungry eyes, and I shut mine in shame. I can feel his hot breath making contact with the slick wetness in my center, wanting him to come closer and move away at the same time.
A hoarse gasp escapes my lips when I feel his tongue licking my labia, gently sliding along one side from the top down to my opening, before he moves back up the other side. He repeats the same tantalizing circles a few times, fueling me with agonizing desire, as he torments me by coming close yet remaining so far away from my sensitive nub.
I arch my back, coaxing him to come closer, to finally touch me where I really need him. He greets my eagerness with an approving hum and places one hand on my lower abdomen, right on top of my mound, while teasing my entrance with the fingers of his other hand. A bolt of shock travels along my spine at the thought of losing my virginity on his thick fingers. Is that even possible? How can I not know the answer to that?
My delirious thoughts are interrupted when his tongue finally lands on my swollen clit. The sensation is so intense that it almost sends me over the edge.
“You’re not allowed to come yet,” he warns, as if reading my mind and replying to my unspoken thoughts.
I cast him a bewildered look. “Huh?”
“Don’t come,” he clarifies, looking up at me through darkened, narrowed eyes. “Not unless I give you permission.”
Before I can say anything else, he goes back down on me, causing me to melt into a puddle of liquid lust, as his skilled tongue lashes at my tense nerve endings, sending rushing bolts of pleasure through me with every touch.
I groan with relish, squirming and writhing beneath him, so desperate to come that it’s borderline painful. There’s not enough sense left in me to worry about his finger as he slides it inside of me. He doesn’t move very far, stopping his intrusion halfway in, and then he pulls his finger back out, concentrating on my pearl instead. He sucks on it, applying so much pressure that it almost hurts, but the sense of pleasure is stronger, so much stronger.
“No!” I yelp. “No, not… I’m gonna co –”
“No, you’re not,” he interrupts. “You’re not coming, because you’re not allowed to come yet, doll. Understand?”
My reply is nothing but a desperate moan, as he continues playing with my clit, alternating between licking and sucking it, his tongue drawing close, tight circles around it.
I’m overcome with violent flashes of powerful elation, threatening to take me over the edge any moment. I’m torn between wanting to go there, and drawing away to prevent myself from having an orgasm that he’s not permitting me to have yet.
I start whimpering as if I‘m in pain. I‘m overcome with lust, and my mind is dazed and incapable of fighting it any longer.
I can’t do this any longer. I can’t wait another second.
A frantic moan flees from my grimaced mouth as I’m overpowered by the strongest climax I’ve ever had, thrashing and crying while he’s holding me in place with his hand pressed down on my center.
Much to my sorrow, he withdraws his lips from my clenching core, watching me pulsate through my release, while he visibly shakes his head in disappointment. Our eyes meet, and the look on his face terrifies me.
“Bad girl,” he hisses. “Very, very bad girl.”
Chapter 18
Laura
I’m panting breathlessly, sweating, and my heart is racing at such a vicious speed that it makes me feel dizzy. His gaze is fixated on me, and it’s a sinister expression full of threat.
Shit. This can’t be good.
“What did I tell you?” he asks, his voice steady but underlined with fury.
I whimper helplessly, my lower lip shaking uncontrollably, as I try to answer him.
“What did I tell you!?” he repeats, louder this time.
“Not… not to come,” I breathe out, the horror apparent in my tiny, thin voice.
He sighs and rises to his feet, staring down at me as I lay paralyzed in front of him. My center is still open and bared to him because I’m too scared to move.
“And what did you just do?” he asks. His tone sounds softer this time, more patient and forgiving. It almost tricks me into believing this will not have any painful repercussions.
“I… came,” I utter, hoping that my willingness to admit my mistake will help to prevent punishment. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he repeats, adding a laugh that scares me even more than his threatening looks. “I’m afraid that won’t cut it, doll.”
He takes a step back, burying his hands in his pants’ pockets, and he nods toward me.
“Get up.”
“Yes, master.”
I push myself up, grimacing when the sore skin of my ass brushes against the sheets beneath me. The pain was there before, but it was numbed by my insane arousal. Now, in my post-orgasmic state, it’s more prevalent.
My legs are shaking when I get off the bed and stand in front of him, towering high in my stilettos and wearing nothing but the sheer stockings and black garter belt.
He looks at me and shakes his head again.
“So beautiful and so fucking delicious,” he says. “But so disobedient. What am I to do with you, doll?”
“I’m s –”
“Shut up!” he barks. “You’ve been a bad girl. Saying that you’re sorry over and over again will not help you.”
He comes closer to me in one wide step, hooking his finger into the ring at the front of my collar. He yanks it so hard I’m forced to step forward. Pressed against his chest, he pulls at the collar to lift my gaze to his.
“What did I tell you would happen, if you don’t obey me?” His blue eyes are piercing, wild with a conflicting combination of fury and desire. Again, I can feel his hardness pressed against my lower belly, and I can’t help but wonder why he’s not doing anything about it. Why is he still fully dressed? Why doesn’t he just fuck me?
“You’d punish me,” I whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Please, not the cane. I hate the cane. But I don’t dare say it for fear it will make him use it all the more.
“That’s correct,” he says. His grip on my collar loosens and he takes a step back, assessing me from a distance, as if pondering what to do with me.
I’m trembling, unsure whether the anticipation that’s taken a hold of me is fueled by a positive thrill, or fear. It must be the latter. How on Earth could I be looking forward to being hurt?
Because it feels so good afterward…
I’m yanked back to reality when he places his hands on my shoulders.
“You’re still new to this,” he says. “So I’ll go easy on you. This time.”
An odd mixture of relief and disappointment spreads through my chest. Is he not going to punish me at all? Does he think I can’t take it?
Because I can.
He applies gentle pressure on my shoulders, beckoning me to lower myself down on my knees in front of him. I follow his guidance, determined not to fail him again.
“Lean against the bed frame and sit down,” he says. “On your ass, your legs stretched out in front.”
The thought of having to sit on the hardwood floor with my ass bruised like it is scares me for a moment, but I nod and follow his command, sitting down on the floor with my back propped against the foot board of the bed and m
y legs stretched out in front of me. I’m forced to part my legs, because he’s standing only about two feet away from me, watching as I deal with the stinging pain on my behind.
I’m supporting myself with my hands placed left and right of my hips to carry most of my weight, as I’m afraid to rest it all on my buttocks.
Of course, he’s not having any of it.
“Lift your arms and stretch them out to the front,” he orders. “Just like the doll you are.”
I suppress a sigh when I lift my hands off the ground, thus allowing my entire weight to rest on the tortured skin of my ass. It hurts, but not as bad as I feared it would.
He enjoys the sight for a moment, and then he leans forward, reaching for the shackle around my right wrist and moving my arm over toward the bedpost to the right so it’s stretched out to the side. The shackles have a little ring attached to them, similar to the one around my neck. I watch as he drags some black rope through it to tie my wrist to the bed post. He yanks on it before fastening the knot, making sure that my arm is stretched out to the limit while I’m seated.
My pulse speeds up when he does the same thing to the other arm, the muscles in my upper arms and chest twingin with tension as they are tied to the bed posts on either side, exposing my naked breast to him. Whatever he’s planning to do to me now, there’s no way for me to fight it, unless I kick him with my feet.
That idea is quickly eliminated when he grabs my right leg at the knee and slowly begins to lift it up my shoulder, forcing me to bend my back and scoot down as my ass slides forward.
“Let’s see how flexible my doll is,” he whispers, his voiced laced with devilish joy.
He tries stretching my leg, but soon realizes that I’m far from being a member of Cirque du Soleil and flexibility isn’t exactly my strong suit. Luckily, he contents himself with leaving my legs bent, which is straining enough as it is. He ties my legs at the knees and fastens them to the bed post just above my wrists with another piece of rope.
I’m panting, trying to get as comfortable as I can in my position. My slick, glistening center is completely exposed to him. Shame spiced with arousal travels through me like a current when he gets up on his feet, stands in front of me, and assesses his handiwork.
