by Sky Corgan
When he backed off, he grinned, and I could see something else in his eyes, but couldn't place what it was. Damien repositioned himself, sitting on his calves, and grabbing my legs to pull me towards him. With my back arched, he pushed inside of me. This time, when he thrust, his pubic bone didn't hit my clit, and I was able to hold out a lot longer.
He fucked me mercilessly, pumping and ravaging my cunt. My body was quickly becoming sore, but I knew that was his intention, and I loved him for it. Nothing was sexier than Damien Reed in carnal mode.
Just when I thought that I couldn't handle his brutal fucking any longer, Damien slowed, whispering breathlessly that I could come now. He changed positions again, dropping my hips and angling himself over me so his pubic bone came in contact with my sweet spot. He bucked and rotated, then pulled away, bringing me to the edge of climax again and again before denying me.
He figured my body out, I realized with a slight bit of annoyance. That bastard. This whole thing has been about figuring out exactly what will set me off. He's too smart for his own good.
The torture went on for as long as Damien wanted it to. A game of tease and deny that made me want to throw him on his back and rape him until my body exploded in climax. What had started as a reward was quickly turning into a punishment. I needed to make him give me release.
“Damien, please,” I begged, panting.
“Please what?” he asked, his voice full of sadism.
Damn you. Even when you're being an asshole, you're sexy.
“I need to come.”
“Do you, now?”
“Yes,” the word was practically a whimper.
“Show me, then.”
I wasn't sure what he meant, but I decided to take things into my own hands. Greedily, I pulled him down to me, kissing him with such fervor that I feared I might break us both. My arms wrapped around his back, my nails digging into his flesh. I wanted to hurt him—needed to hurt him, for some reason. His skin gathered beneath my nails, and I felt blood, blood from me clawing down his back too deep. He winced, a sweet sound to my ears, and then he bucked forward, pounding me so fast and hard that all I could do was moan and cry out and be consumed by the orgasm that washed over me. I felt like I couldn't breath—couldn't move.
With one final thrust, Damien's cock pressed deep inside of me, so impossibly deep, and I knew he was coming as well. The look on his face said it all.
He collapsed on top of me, breathless, and I pulled my nails from his back to caress his face and kiss his neck. When the waves of pleasure receded, all that was left was love. I loved Damien Reed, and for as much as he tortured me, I couldn't get enough of him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Damien studied his back in the mirror. Down both sides were four bloody claw marks. I licked my lips as I watched him. Now everyone will know you're mine. If you were fucking someone else, you probably won't be again until after those heal. And maybe I won't let them heal. I think I rather enjoy you marked up. I certainly enjoyed doing it.
My mind was a hellishly devilish place sometimes. While I knew I should be showing remorse for what I'd done, it was in the heat of passion. Surely, he couldn't get upset about that.
“Are you mad?” I asked anyway.
“No.” He grinned at me, that sexy mysterious grin that caused my body to pulse with want all over again.
How in the hell did he do that to me? We had just had sex, and I felt like I could screw him at least a dozen more times.
“I like it,” he told me before coming around the side of the bed and bending over to pick up his shirt and pull it back on.
“I have marked you mine,” I said playfully.
“That I am. Yours and yours alone,” he replied, though the emotion had left his voice.
I didn't care. His words made me swoon. Perhaps the claw marks weren't necessary, but it never hurt to visibly stake my claim.
“Did I pass my test?” I asked.
“You did well.” He flopped into the chair to watch me as I got dressed.
“You're a wicked man.”
“How so?”
“I saw what you were doing, analyzing me, figuring out what set me off.”
“It's important for me to know, as your Dominant, so I can pleasure you better.”
“And punish me better.”
“And punish you better,” he agreed with amusement in his voice.
“So what now?” I gathered my clothes and began getting dressed.
“Now I have some homework for you.”
Homework? I groaned. The very mention of the word made me regret asking. Damn his homework and pop quizzes.
“What kind of homework?” I asked, unable to hide my discontent.
“What time do you usually wake up in the morning?”
“Well, my first class is at nine thirty, so I try to be up by seven.”
“Then I want you to start getting to bed by ten every night. It's important that you get between seven and nine hours of sleep. From now on, Monday through Friday, I want you to text me before you go to bed so I'll know you're getting to bed on time. If you can't go to sleep by ten o'clock, then I still want you to text me to let me know why you didn't go to sleep on time, and it better be a good excuse, such as that you had to stay up late to finish homework.”
I scowled. “You sound like a parent.”
“Part of being a Dominant is to ensure that your submissive is taking care of herself. Trust me, this is minor compared to what I could require of you.”
“That's hard to believe.”
“Well, I could dictate what you can eat and make you submit a list of your meals to me to ensure you're eating properly. And I could make you text me in the mornings too, to make sure you're getting up at the proper time every morning and don't miss class. I could also force you to work out, create a routine for you, and punish you if you don't implement it.”
“Alright, alright. I get your point. Geez. Do some Dominants really do that?”
“Yes. Most Dominants do that.”
“Wow. The BDSM lifestyle is kind of stuffy.”
“That's just the way it is.”
I paused for a moment, thinking. “I'm glad you're not like that. I don't think I could handle it if you were.”
“You're new to the lifestyle, so I'm not expecting you to accept everything right away. As we progress though, I will expect more of you.”
“Not that much, I hope.”
“Probably not, but you never know. If I ever do want those things from you, I'll talk to you about it first.”
And I'll say no. There was no point in arguing about it now though. My life was fairly boring, so I didn't think getting to bed at ten o'clock would cause any problems.
“Is there anything else?” I asked.
“Yes.” Damien stood and walked over to the chest of drawers to open them and pull out a sheet of paper. “I have a list of vocabulary words and their definitions that I want you to study and memorize. Every weekend, I'm going to test you on them. Some of them you might have seen before.” He handed the paper to me.
This week's words were 24/7, abrasion, aftercare, age play, anal sex, anal plug, anal torture, animal play, arm binders, asphyxiation, and ass licking. Each word had its definition beside it.
“Why are there so many anal words on the list?” I hoped this wasn't leading into his desire for me to give in and have anal with him.
“Because I want you to be educated in all aspects of sex and the BDSM lifestyle, that includes things you don't approve of. The more you know, the better you can articulate when people ask you questions.”
Ah, here was teacher Damien again. I could understand that. If I was going to be a part of the lifestyle, then it was best I knew as much about it as possible.
“Alright,” I sighed.
Damien walked me to the door, an emotionless shell of the man he had been in the bedroom. Hot and cold. That was how he ran. I still found it strange that there wasn't much in between.
When I got out to my car, I took my collar off and stuck it in the glove box. In truth, I hadn't really thought much of it until I caught a glimpse of it in my rear-view mirror when I was getting ready to pull out of his driveway. The leather of it had left a soft red ring of irritation around my neck, but it would go away soon enough. All in all, wearing it wasn't unpleasant. Maybe I'd even grow to like it eventually.
The week was long and boring. Remembering to text Damien before I went to bed every night was easier than I had imagined, mostly because I enjoyed the extra interaction with him, even if his responses were brief. It made me feel like I actually meant something to him, more than just a student—like he cared about having me in his life.
On Thursday, I received a phone call from my father, telling me that he would be coming home for a few days on Sunday. My heart clenched in my chest, and I instantly felt guilty. While I hadn't seen my father in ages, I didn't want to miss my lessons with Damien. He'd probably punish me if I canceled, but I couldn't exactly dismiss my father when I hadn't seen him in so long. He would expect me to stay home and visit. Running off as soon as he returned would just be rude.
In the end, family was more important. I would take whatever punishment Damien came up with in exchange for more time with my dad. After all, my dad had been nice enough to allow me to stay with him while I was going to college. Snubbing him for sex just wouldn't be right.
When I stood in front of Damien's door the following Saturday, there was tension in my stomach. Should I tell him right away? If I did, he'd probably deny me sex. That would be an adequate punishment.
I decided to keep my mouth shut, even though I knew that would displease him even more. As disobedient as it was, I would rather take a harsher punishment than go without a good dicking.
“You're wearing your collar,” was the first thing he said when he opened the door. “Good girl.”
“Yes, Sir. I remembered,” I told him as he led me inside and to the classroom.
“And I'm very impressed with how well you kept up with texting me every night. Did you, at any point, lie to me about the time you went to bed?” he asked, turning around to take a seat in the chair.
“No, Sir.” I shook my head, sitting on the bed.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No, Sir,” I repeated, a bit offended he'd even think that.
“Good. Shall we go over your homework assignment?”
I nodded. Thankfully, college homework had been light that week, so it hadn't been too much of a burden to remember to study my vocabulary words.
“What does abrasion mean?”
“Abrasion is the scraping off of skin, as done with sandpaper or some other hard porous surface.”
“Good.”
“And age play?”
“Age play is when a Dom and a sub act out a scene involving age difference. For instance, the Dom might pretend to be the father, and the sub will pretend to be the daughter.”
“Close. In most age play scenes, no incest is implied. The scene is more about the nurturing aspect of those types of relationships. Since you got that one partially wrong, I would like for you to write the term and definition for me ten times on a sheet of paper and hand it into me next to you see me.”
I fought back a scowl but nodded. This was definitely one of Damien's minor punishments. It was annoying, but nothing I couldn't deal with.
He continued, “What about asphyxiation?”
“Asphyxiation is the blocking of airflow for heightened pleasure. It's often done by choking someone before they orgasm.”
“Good.” He seemed pleased enough, readjusting himself to get comfortable in the chair. “Today we're going to go over submissive positions. Submissive positions are basically poses you will take upon command. There are two varieties of submissive positions, traditional positions and Gorean positions. Since I do not practice the Gorean lifestyle, we will be focusing on traditional positions.
“There are dozens of submissive positions. Not all Dominants use all positions. It's pretty much up to the Dominant what positions he wants his submissive to memorize and use.
“Each position has its own verbal command. Whenever the Dominant says the command, the submissive is expected to take that position. Failure to do so can, and often does, result in punishment.
“Today we're going to go over all the positions I'll require you to learn. Then I'm going to give you a packet that lists them all and describes the positions so you can study them. Between now and the time you get your training collar, I'll probably be fairly lenient on you if you mess up. I know it's going to be a lot to take in, but you've shown promising retention so far, so I'm confident you'll eventually get it.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I replied.
Damien continued, “The first position is Stand. It looks like this.” He stood up, placed his feet shoulder-width apart, and laced his fingers behind his back, keeping his eyes to the floor. I mimicked his actions, knowing that's what he expected of me. When I was in position, he lifted his head and did a quick walk around, making minor adjustments to my posture until I pleased him. “Good. The next position is Teach. When I say it, I want you to sit down with your knees together, and your hands crossed on top of your lap. You're to focus all of your attention on me and listen intently to what I am telling you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I nodded, watching as he took the position, then imitating him accordingly.
We went through the rest of the positions one by one, with him demonstrating and me mimicking. Most of them were standard. Kneel, Lay Down, Face Down, Hands and Knees. Others were a bit invasive, like Display, Inspection, and Examination. There were a few that sounded more like commands you gave a dog than actual positions, like Heel, Fetch, and Follow. And then there were punishment positions, which varied depending on how he planned to punish me. I hoped I would remember them all.
When we had gone through the list, Damien sat back down, looking up at me with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Take off your clothes,” he told me, and I obeyed. “From now on, when I tell you to take off your clothes, I want you to fold them and set them neatly on the chest of drawers. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I gulped, thinking about how I hadn't learned how to fold dress clothes yet. Of course, as soon as I placed them on the chest of drawers, Damien noticed right away.
He scowled at my clumsily folded blouse. “Do you remember what I told you?”
“Yes, Sir. I was supposed to have looked up a video on how to properly fold my clothes.”
“And you didn't do it?” his voice was dark and disapproving.
“No, Sir. I forgot.”
“Corner.”
It was the first punishment position command he gave me, and I followed it to the best of my ability, walking over to the corner to press my nose against it. I put my hands behind my back, crossing my wrists and spreading my legs shoulder-width apart. A sigh left my lips, thinking about how childish I felt. The last time I stood in a corner, I was ten years old and was being punished for talking back to my mother.
“You will hold yourself in that position for ten minutes, after which time you may come back over and present yourself for Examination,” he said.
My cheeks blushed at the thought. Examination was the most invasive of all positions and consisted of several different verbal commands. The thought of laying submissively while Damien gave my body a very thorough look-over made butterflies flutter in my stomach.
I had more time to think about it than necessary. You never realize how miserable it is to stand in a corner for ten minutes until you've actually had to do it as an adult. It made a surprisingly effective punishment. I would definitely take strides to be more obedient, lest I be forced to suffer with silent boredom again.
When ten minutes was up, Damien called me back over to stand in front of him. I assumed the Stand position, keeping my eyes to the floor.
“Do you remember what you're supposed to do
now?” he asked.
“Assume the first Examination position.”
“No.”
“I have just punished you. What are you supposed to do whenever I punish you?”
My mind was completely blank. Was this a trick question?
“I'm sorry for upsetting you, Sir.”
“Wrong answer. Corner.”
Grudgingly, I stalked back over to the corner, pressing my nose into it with an audible groan of discontent.
“Less attitude, or I'll double your time,” Damien said without a hint of remorse.
Punishment definitely sucked.
When another ten minutes passed, I was allowed to return in front of Damien. His face was set into what felt like a permanent scowl, and while I looked at his knee in my peripheral vision, my only bratty thought was of how much I'd like to bite it. Maybe I should tell him to go stand in a corner for twenty minutes and see how much he liked it.
“Since you don't remember what you're supposed to do now, I will tell you,” he said.
“Please do, Sir,” I replied, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. Showing anymore attitude could easily earn me another ten minutes in the corner.
“Whenever your Dominant punishes you, you must thank him for the punishment. Then you must recite why you were punished so you don't forget. Rule number eleven.”
“Master would request I lie to him?”
“Back in the corner. We can do this all night, you know.”
For a moment, I thought of screaming at him. “What did I do this time?”
“You called me Master instead of Sir. Calling me Master is a privilege you haven't earned yet. Back in the corner.”
“What if I promise never to do it again?” I looked up at him pleadingly.
“Back in the corner.” He pointed to it. “If I have to tell you again, you'll earn a far worse punishment.”
“Fine,” I nearly spat at him, stomping over to the corner.
“Come back here,” he told me, his voice as calm and cool as ever.
