by Cynthia Dane
I’m trembling, because I’m imagining him doing it – coming inside of me.
His seed dripping from me. All over my skin. Taunting us both with how virile he is.
I’m a vessel.
For his pleasure.
For his seed.
This is simple biology, folks. Or at least that’s what my brain says as I realize I am thinking these things and want to die.
“I’m glad you discovered how much you love it.” We’re past acknowledging his cock bobbing before me. If he hasn’t asked me to get to sucking yet, I doubt he will anytime soon.
Sure enough, Ian lifts me by the arm and brings me across the room, removing my jacket as we go. There’s an ottoman here. An antique one, with brass accentuating every corner.
Before I’m bent down so my hands brace against it, I know what’s going to happen.
Chapter 11
KATHRYN
Cold handcuffs keep me chained to the edge of the ottoman. My wrists are bound together, my back straight while my ass sticks up in the air behind me. My boots are flat on the carpet, but I know better than to kick them back or otherwise act impetuous.
“You’re a good girl for confessing like that, Katie.” Although his voice is soft, there’s a hint of foreboding in it. “For that, I’ll go easy on you.”
He spanks me.
Pain shoots through my ass, through my legs. My thighs feel like they’re on fire already, and the rest of my body is on high alert.
“You need to be punished, darling. Do you know what you’re being punished for?”
I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m too busy heaving breaths into the fabric of the ottoman because my ass fucking hurts.
Another strike. “Answer me, Katie.” His voice doesn’t sound so gentle now. “If you don’t, you will be denied.”
I both know and don’t know what that means. To be denied means to be edged, or to be brought to near orgasm and then left hanging, tortured. It’s an erotic punishment that I’m all too familiar with. The best male subs know how to meet my edging by holding back ejaculation. For a woman, it’s different.
I don’t know what it means in that Ian could do anything. Anything.
So, it’s probably a good idea if I answer.
“I don’t know, sir.” My throat is so damn dry. “I honestly don’t know why I need to be punished.”
“Really? You don’t know why? Think long and hard. It’s why you’re here.”
It’s why I’m here?
He doesn’t mean the thinking. He means the answer is why I’m here. Why I’ve asked him to train me to be submissive. His submissive.
“I need to be punished because I’m a slut, sir.”
This time when his hand touches me, it’s almost gentle. “That’s right. Being promiscuous and kinky is more than okay. You know that as well as I do. What you need help transcending is the guilt you feel from it.”
“I don’t feel…”
Spank!
“What was that? It almost sounded like you were saying you don’t feel guilty. Now I know that can’t be true. You wouldn’t have asked me to do this to you if you didn’t feel guilty about your need to submit. I know who you are, Katie. You’re used to being a Domme. You want power. You feel guilty giving up that control when so many other women fight to gain it.”
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
“I also need to punish you for blabbing your big mouth to my mother about our relationship. Do you know how much she tortured me today? I’m sick thinking about it. You need to learn your place, and your place is my good, obedient sub who doesn’t feel a shred of guilt for what I do to her.”
This next spank is the hardest yet. It pounds into my flesh, sending waves of pain mingling with pleasure all through my body.
It’s raw. It’s tormenting. It’s enough to make me think about the shit I felt before I came here. Back when I was wondering if this was the right thing to do.
Of course it is.
How could it not be?
I’m becoming more accepting of Ian’s machinations. I’m more and more okay with him manhandling me, taking me, giving me painful pleasure.
What I’m not accepting is the debasement from my end.
He wants me to beg. He wants me to get on my knees and beg to suck his cock, to get my clit rubbed, to be spanked.
He wants me to beg for him to come inside me.
I can’t do that yet.
“Do you understand why you’re here now, Katie?” Ian steps away, opening a drawer nearby. I can’t see what he’s looking for. I don’t want to know. “Do you understand why you need this?”
I bite my lip until it almost bleeds. “Because I’m ashamed of what I want from you.”
“That’s right. You shouldn’t feel ashamed. You need to have your mind and body purged of this shame you’re carrying around.” The drawer closes again. “Open your legs, my love.”
He called me it again. He called me his love.
Does he mean it?
I obey, forcing my legs farther apart and feeling the warm air against the crotch in my corset. Ian undoes the buttons giving him easy access. Soon enough, my ass is exposed, and my opening feels the air for the first time.
If I’m wet, he doesn’t yet comment on it.
Something soft and leathery taps my bare ass. My mind struggles to figure out what it is. Once I feel the broad shape of a crop caressing my skin, I seize up, a single word all over my lips.
“Pink!”
He continues to caress me. I have to trust that he heard and understood. “I’m going to smack you until you forget your shame. I’m going to bring you to the brink of immense pleasure. Your punishment is just, Katie.”
“Yes, sir…” I bury my face in my hands. “Thank you, sir.”
After a quaint chuckle, Ian thwacks me with the crop.
It’s a different pain from his bare hand, which until now is the only thing I’ve felt in this capacity. While Ian’s hand is harsh, but intimate, the crop offers such a unique touch and distance that I’m almost coming from that first thwack alone. Coming! I can barely believe it.
The leather stings. That’s the best way to describe it. An aching, sudden sting that awakens neurons that have never been stimulated before. I brace myself against the ottoman, panting, my moans falling so freely from my lips that I’m sure I’m going to get punished for it.
Soreness settles in.
My lips are trembling, and I hold in a sob. When Ian strikes the far side of my ass with the crop – a place yet untouched – I cry out in pure pain. “Pink,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping I don’t have to say the final word.
I’ve spanked a ton of subs before. Including with a crop. I know how asses and most subs react to them. Some people love having those welts cover their asses for a few days. Others sit there screaming, begging, wanting nothing but a hard spanking to bring them to nirvana.
Then there’s me, on the verge of tears.
“Ah, Katie.” His tender touch on my wounded flesh makes me squirm. “I wish you could see how stunning you are right now. So submissive and pink all over.” His thumb dips between my thighs and toys with my slit. Ian pokes me, sinking his thumb into me to the first knuckle.
I gasp. I can’t tell if it feels good or not. I’m so overwhelmed with pain and that deep ache of a spanking that any pleasure I feel is…
Is so fucking good.
“You’re not letting go of your ill-feelings yet. I am not going to stop until I hear you crying out in ecstasy. Then I’ll know you’re ready to obey me for the rest of the night.”
His hand holds my hip, bringing me against his still erect cock. Oh, fuck. Even through the pain, all I can think about is him sinking it deep within me, fucking me in this position until we both come.
Instead, he moves his hand back and hits me with his spread palm.
That’s it. I accept. He really is go
ing to spank me until I scream for him to stop or I finally give him what he wants.
What I want.
Each strike of his hand or crop, all over my ass, my thighs, and even on top of my pussy, reminds me that I’m here to have this done to me. I walked willingly into this. I knew he was probably going to spank me again tonight. I knew there would be restraints. Pain. Dirty talk. I spent all of last night thinking about it, wishing Ian was there with me so he could whisper his reassurances into my ear.
“It’s okay to want this, Katie. It’s okay to let go of your power. It doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t mean you aren’t respected. All it means is that you’re human. You need to release your anxieties like anyone else. This is how you want to do it.”
“Thank you, sir,” I whimper, wondering if he can hear me over the snap of the stinging crop. You know what? I don’t even feel it anymore. My flesh is so numb that all I get off on is the sound of the leather and hand meeting my soiled skin. My legs shake, trying to keep me up. It’s barely working. I’m about to completely lose it. “I’m gonna come, sir!”
Perhaps it’s impeccable timing. Or maybe Ian still has enough of his bearings to hit me once more, a raging sting spreading through my body and making me fucking fuck you holy shit.
He’s not penetrating me. He’s not stroking my clit or pinching a nipple. All Ian has done is strike my ass, and here I am, panting into the ottoman as my thighs shake in orgasm. Wetness covers my thighs in quick, gushing trickles.
I’m already spread, so it’s not hard for Ian to see what has happened.
“Did that feel good, Katie?” he softly asks. “Did you come because you were turned on?”
“Y… yes, sir.” I’m in a daze. A disbelieving daze.
“Good girl.” The crop lands beside me on the ottoman. “You’re starting to learn. Now…” I feel him behind me, his strength, his emotions, his body as the head of his cock pushes into my wet folds. Groaning, I bow my head, and I barely notice Ian pull apart my twist and take my long hair into his hand. “It’s time for me to see how well you can really obey. We’ll start by seeing how well you can control yourself.”
“Okay…”
“I’m gonna fuck you, Katie. Fuck you hard and fast, and your goal is to not come.”
What?
He’s kidding!
“You don’t think I’m serious? You haven’t earned the right to come again. You’re going to amuse and pleasure me first. If you come too soon? I will punish you… and you will not like my punishment.” He pinches my tender flesh, and I grimace. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Fuck no! What’s the point of all this if I’m not enjoying it? Not coming? I’m a woman, damnit. Part of the beauty of being female is endless orgasms if a guy plays it right.
I have to remind myself that this is about orgasm denial. I’m not used to that on my end.
Ian’s finger dips into me, and he remarks on how wet and eager I seem to be. I barely hear him. Even when his finger enters my mouth and I taste myself on him, all I can think about is how sore my ass is and what a sadist this guy can be.
God, I kinda love it.
“Oh my shit,” I mutter, eyes closing as Ian’s cock teases my opening. “Please fuck me…”
He clicks his tongue, pulling back out. “I like to hear you beg, Katie, but don’t get too eager. Remember, you’re not supposed to come. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”
I know that. What is he waiting for? He thinks I can’t control a fucking orgasm? He’s lucky to get me off purely from vaginal stimulation, I mean…
The world goes black as he thrusts into me.
It’s crude. It hurts a little, especially with my sore ass. But holy fuck am I glad to have him inside me, finally!
He holds still within me, his self-indulgent groan sinking into my chest. I must be tight, wet, and definitely warm. All I feel is his sheer girth taking up my insides, my inner walls resting snugly around his shaft and tip. Fuck me, it feels so… comfortable.
Ian slowly pulls out. Wetness drips from him, from me. Chuckling, Ian says I look like I have a leak he needs to plug up before it gets all over his bedroom carpet. Oh my God, what a way to break the mood!
Then he slams back into me, and I don’t fucking care what he says. He can say anything. Do anything. All I care is that Ian Mathers is deep within me, his hands clamping down on my hips as he begins to thrust with increasing speed.
In this position, every thrust shoots me forward and then pulls me back again. My hair is still tight in his hand, and he pulls, yanking my head back and making my scalp tingle in pain like my ass. My earrings clink against my neck. My collar tugs at my hairs. Everything is a mixture of pain and pleasure, and when Ian calls me his “dirty girl,” all I know is that yes, yes I am his damned to hell dirty girl.
I’m not used to this kind of debasement. A man bending me over, chaining me to his home, and then using my body however he wishes. The movements he conducts are not with my pleasure in mind. His cock doesn’t search for my G-spot. It doesn’t pull out and rub against my clit. It’s raw desire on his end. A man who takes what he wants and leaves the rest behind.
He’s taking me. I’m what he wants.
What I leave behind me is up to me.
This shouldn’t make me come. Not sex like this. It might get me wetter, it may satisfy my craving to feel full and fucked, but it’s not going to give me an orgasm.
It shouldn’t, anyway.
Yet here we are, my body starting to shudder because my brain is latched onto the idea of Ian Mathers using me and it’s so…
It’s so…
Liberating.
This fucking hot man with his talented cock wants me. He wants to rescue me from the evil thoughts that constantly torment my head. Not being good enough for my family. Not being accomplished enough for the business world. Nobody taking me seriously because they see a woman playing around until she gets married. People talking behind my back and saying that I overcompensate with Doming because I’m too insecure to do anything else.
Well, how about this, huh? Is this good enough? Is dressing like this and having Ian grip my hips, pull my hair, and fuck me wide open with his cock good enough?
Oh my God, his fingers are so strong, so possessive on my flesh. He’s not even touching my clit. He’s grunting, though. Such a fucking hot grunt that sends so many shivers through me. He wants me. He can’t control himself. I’m his darling, his love, his baby…
His Katie.
It’s happening. My brain explodes in relief, in the knowledge that I can release everything I ever thought I knew I wanted. It doesn’t matter. This is where we are now. This is who I am in this moment.
His sub.
“Oh, God!” I don’t merely praise him. I praise Ian as well, my mind completely losing it. All I feel is him crashing into me, taking me so roughly that my legs jerk back and forth from the force of his thrusts. My own cum is running down my legs. My teeth rip apart my bottom lip. I hear his warning to not come, that he can feel me tightening around his cock, but I don’t care.
I can’t control it. This is so fucking hot. I’m his bitch. The only man I trust like this, and now I’m his fucking plaything.
My head throws back. I scream as he pulls my hair.
That’s right. I’m clamping down on his cock, refusing to let it go as I ride out a long, hard orgasm that even blows my fucking mind.
“Ian!” I whine, his thrusts now completely overtaking me. I’m rocking on my legs. I’m watching the carpet and the ottoman rush back and forth as my head bobs from our movements.
I’m coming.
“Oh, shit.” Ian’s fingers are digging so hard into me that there’s no possible escape. Not from him. Not from my…
From the man who owns me.
A heavy, predatory groan fills the room. I feel so small. So helpless. So this is not my problem. Whatever is going thro
ugh Ian’s head as he starts to come, it’s no business of mine.
I’m too preoccupied with what’s about to happen.
“Come inside me!” I long for it. To feel that warmth, that sense of him claiming me and further turning me into the very thing people hate me for. “Please! Ian!”
I’ve never sounded so desperate before. My orgasm lasts longer, taking my eyes away from me, my sense of smell, and even my ability to do anything but grip the ottoman and feel this alpha male spend himself inside of me.
The first hit is the most satisfying. That sense of “I did it, I got him to do it…” combining with that relieving heat pumping inside of me. I moan from the reprieve as the next shot fills my cunt with more of his seed.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
I don’t think I’m going to get the fifth since we’ve slowed down, but as I’m about to collapse toward the ottoman, Ian growls, his cock emptying the last of it into me.
This is the third time this has happened. This is the most traditionally unromantic position to be in. But shit-fuck-shit, was that the best!
He carefullly pulls out of me. When the head of his cock separates from my body, I know why he’s being cautious. The man unloaded so much into me, that it comes spilling out in this position, running down my thigh and…
I happen to glance down in time to see a drop of white hit the carpet. Then another. My inner walls are shaking in that post-orgasmic reverie they love so much, and Ian’s seed is the collateral damage of the quake inside me.
It’s so much.
Just as I’m about to close my eyes and focus on the pleasure spreading through my body, Ian snatches my hair again, pulling me up and smacking my ass so hard that I scream in pain.
But I don’t say any of my safe words.
Because I know what I’ve done, and I must be punished.
“You’re a bad, bad slut.” Ian’s fingers curling around my neck are almost as menacing as the words he calls me. Yes, yes Ian. I am a fucking slut. I came on your cock even though you told me not to, because I could not help myself. I sucked all the seed out of you and am now making a mess with it all over your carpet. Then again, not my fault you fucked me so open I can’t keep your seed inside me.
