by Sansa Rayne
“If you’re good, I’ll buy you a new one. Turn around, hands at your sides.”
Again, I did as Mason instructed, not thinking, just obeying. For some reason, following orders added to my arousal. It wasn’t like when Brady told me to do something. The goal then was more nebulous: do as he says, and I may find bliss someday. Mason’s directives contained a promise: do this because it’s exciting now, not because you will be rewarded later.
The tips of his fingers pressed against my back, and I started to lurch forward until he grabbed my hip. Instead of walking, I bent at the waist, presenting my bottom. My cheeks burned; I felt like a piece of meat, being inspected. Yet, my juices ran and I quaked at the thought, sublimely intoxicated in a way I didn’t understand.
“A thong?” said Mason. “Pretty dirty for a good, little church girl.”
“It’s my first,” I said.
“Stay.” Mason walked off, but quickly came back; he carried the chair from my kitchen table and set it down in front of me. He tapped the back. “Hands here.”
As soon as I complied, I felt a slap on my bared bottom. I yelped at the sting, then cried out again as Mason’s hand smacked the other cheek.
“Was that enjoyable for you, Abbi?” he asked. He ran his fingers between my thighs, feeling my soaking panties.
“Yes,” I sniffed, mortified despite myself.
“Then what should you have said?” He rubbed the sore spot he’d created on my backside, circling it with his finger.
“Thank you?”
“Correct.” He spanked me again, harder this time. He waited for a moment, then said, “Well?”
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
Once more his hand struck my tender cheek. I repeated my refrain; every time the words came out fresh pulses of heat flooded my core.
“That’s better,” he said. “A good submissive never forgets to thank her master. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that Mason’s dominance appealed to me; clearly I had a fondness for obeying rules and accepting discipline. Mason’s tone conveyed authority, with an inkling of kindness that would evaporate quickly if I stepped out of line. I longed to test his patience, equally desiring and fearing the consequences.
He resumed the spanking, eagerly doling out punishment. Pain surged, and my mind tried to escape, thinking about my neighbors and if they could hear what was going on. The apartment was government housing, so I didn’t think they’d care. I barely even knew them.
For so long, my neighbors had been a handful of women like me, locked in our rooms at night and always privy to the shouting of Brady and his followers from the floor below.
“Hey,” said Mason, after he’d spanked me several more times. “Earth to Abigail. Where’s your head?”
“Huh?”
Mason swatted my ass again, harder this time, eliciting an ear-splitting shriek. The pain of the spanking caught up to me all at once, and though I groaned from the pain, the real urgency came from the ache within my warmth.
“Where did you go before? What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing!”
Another sharp slap, and the chair squeaked loudly against the wood floor.
“Don’t lie, Abigail.”
“Brady,” I answered, desperate to give him an answer. If I hadn’t truly been thinking about him before, I was now: Mason was starting to resemble him more and more.
Maybe he didn’t believe me, because he spanked me hard again. “Brady,” he spat.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Yeah?” he said.
“He used to spank me, sometimes. When I was… sinful.”
Mason gripped my shoulders and spun my body around, sitting me down on the chair. “He used to hurt you?”
I wanted to get up — sitting hurt my sore skin — but Mason kept me down. “Yeah,” I said. “But I liked it.”
“I see.” Mason let go and started to pace around me. As soon as he did, I raised up off the chair to soothe my punished cheeks, but Mason spun around and glared at me. “Did I tell you you could stand? Sit down.”
I did it, despite the pain. Maybe I was starting to really enjoy it, or maybe I was hooked on the pleasure of obeying; either way I didn’t argue.
“Did this Brady enjoy punishing you?” he asked.
“What does that matter?”
Mason grabbed a nipple and pinched. It hurt, but after the initial shock wore off I found peace in pain’s embrace.
“Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and saw his face so close our noses nearly touched.
“I asked you a question. When I ask you a question, you answer it. You don’t ask one back. Is that clear?”
“You sound just like him,” I said. Brady had the same domineering way, though I liked it a lot better from Mason.
Except, somehow he didn’t regard the comment as a compliment, because he staggered back like I’d spat in his face. His eye twitched and his hand closed in a fist.
“This was a mistake,” he said, tossing his hands over his head. “I’m fucking out of here.”
Oh god. What the hell did I do?
Before he’d taken two steps I was in his path. I felt like a kitten trying to get in the path of a charging rhinoceros, waifish and half-nude, but I stood in the way of that broad-chested bull of a man anyway. I didn’t care; I didn’t want him to go. “I’m sorry. I only meant that… it was good, I liked it.”
For a moment I expected him to shove me aside and barge out, but he cooled off.
“What did I say?” I asked once I felt confident he wasn’t going to leave.
“It’s nothing. Just my stupid shit,” he mumbled. He was hiding something, but I let it go. Maybe when he was ready, he’d explain.
“I understand if you want to go, but… I want you to stay.”
Mason shook his head, then smiled. In a flash he reached down to my hips and tore my panties apart. I shrieked as I heard the fabric shredding, like it was some part of me that had gone with it. The sound was so loud, bouncing off the hard walls and floors of the apartment. He reached around me and spanked the underside of my bottom.
The sudden pain caused me to bolt forward, right into his chest. Beneath his steely pecs I felt his heart thumping as fast as mine. He lifted my chin with a finger, then kissed me.
I pressed into him as hard as I could, wanting to convey through my lips, I’m ready for this. Don’t you dare leave me now. Whatever part of it he understood was good enough. I could feel the rock hard bulge in his pants.
“I’ll stay,” said Mason. “But you have to promise you’ll do as I say.”
He opened a small, black pouch attached to his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Reflective and clean, they were exactly like the kind police use. I’d felt their cold control before. The night of the police raid, I didn’t leave Good Souls willingly, and they’d cuffed me before stuffing me into the back of a cruiser while I screamed for Brady. I tried pulling my arms apart, to break free, but stopped when I realized the demons wanted me to enjoy the struggle.
I held out my hands to accept the cuffs, my juices flowing. “I promise,” I said.
Mason took my wrists and cuffed them together in front of me.
“You just had those with you?” I asked.
“You did meet me outside an S&M club,” he retorted. He spun me around and pulled my arms straight up above my head, then twisted me around. “You’re supposed to bring your own toys, if you can. Now, you’re going to answer my question from before. Did Brady like punishing you?”
I fidgeted, not wanting to think about Brady. I wanted to focus on Mason. But I’d agreed to do as he said, so I tried to put myself back in those moments. I’d always been so caught up in my enjoyment, I hadn’t thought about Brady as anything other than the man trying to save my soul, the one preserving my purity.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He thought he was helping me. He alw
ays had a good reason.”
“What reason?” Mason ran his fingers along my now exposed entrance.
My cheeks flushed and I moaned. I could barely think, let alone speak, but Mason didn’t stop. I gathered myself the best I could and said, “Transgressions. Sinning. Impure thoughts.”
Mason’s eyebrow rose at the mention of the last. “Impure thoughts. Did you confess?”
“Of course!” How could somebody not confess? How did they expect to go on, having sin buried in their soul? How could one live like that?
“So… Brady… punished you for those thoughts?”
“Yes.”
Mason scolded my backside with a series of lightning-quick slaps. I gasped, my jaw open wide in shock.
“And you liked being punished?” He chuckled. “That’s convenient.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d wrestled with the conundrum myself. “I told myself not to enjoy the whippings,” I mumbled.
Mason lowered himself into a crouch, then smacked my backside with his hand. I twisted and flinched, but then sighed in pleasure. “Did it work?”
I shook my head. “I told myself it did.”
Mason spanked me again. “Did Brady know you were enjoying it?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Another spank, this one harder, staggering me. Mason grabbed the chain linking my handcuffs and hauled them upward, stretching out my arms. The command he exerted over me sent new shivers through my whole body. “What about the other girls? Did he punish them too?”
“He did,” I said. “Some, more than me.”
Another spank, this one lighter, but it still sent a fresh rush to my head. “Why more?”
“They were defiant,” I explained. “I was devout.”
Mason nodded, then scooped his hands into my back and legs, lifting me right off the ground. I laughed, unprepared for the sudden move.
“Bedroom,” he said.
“On your right.”
Mason carried me through the door and waited for his eyes adjust to the low light before setting me down on the bed. Once I was comfortable, he flicked the lights on and shut the door behind him, pushing it slowly so that I could see it closing.
He reached into his pouch again and pulled out a second pair of handcuffs and a small, metal key. He picked up my wrists and unlocked one of the cuffs, then reconnected the lock around the metal bar of my bed’s headboard. He set the key down on top of my nightstand, a stubby, wooden box that was barely big enough for an alarm clock and my phone.
My heart raced as I tugged against the cuff, but to no avail. Mason smiled devilishly as he fixed my other hand using the second set of cuffs, leaving my arms totally bound and spread. I’d been tied up before, but never like this; not naked, resting on an otherwise comfortable bed.
Any last remaining doubts I had about doing this disappeared when Mason pulled his tank top off over his head. His body could have been carved out of wood. After living on a farm for years, I’d seen men with all kinds of cut physiques, but they didn’t have Mason’s looks. He unbuckled his belt, and his pants fell to the floor; as he kicked them aside, I saw his tight, black underpants and the tent formed within. I blanched, realizing how big his manhood must be. Is this going to hurt? I thought. Then I felt silly, though, because of course it would. Then again, I liked things that hurt, so how bad could this be?
“Having any impure thoughts now?” he asked.
I nodded, barely able to speak, I was so excited.
“You’re very beautiful, Abigail,” he said, climbing onto the bed, and me. “Especially when you’re in bondage. I think I should keep you like this all… night… long.” He planted kisses on my breasts between words, and I gasped at the warm touch. My toes curled as he kissed up and down my neck, reaching my lips. As we kissed I felt his fingers sliding down my stomach, probing their way lower and lower until they reached my wet orifice. I shuddered as he made contact, massaging me until I couldn’t stop moaning. He laughed softly, kissing my cheek as my howls reverberated through the room.
When he stopped touching me there with his hands, I thrashed angrily, not wanting him to stop. In response, I felt a pinch on my nipple, as Mason squeezed it tightly. I shrieked, but settled down.
“I expect you to behave,” said Mason.
“I will! I promise!” Could he tell that I’d agree to anything he said while my nipples were being tortured? It hurt so much, but I would do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t let go.
“You’re going to tell me what you like, and what you don’t.”
“Okay,” I agreed, though he must have been able to tell on his own.
“You know the difference between good pain and bad pain?”
I shook my head. I thought all of it was bad… and good.
“Good pain is the kind that I control, the kind I cause. Bad pain is unintended. You’ll know it when you feel it. I want you to tell me immediately if there’s any bad pain.”
“I will, thanks.”
I felt a smack against the side of my ass. I sighed, letting the air escape my lungs like I’d taken a satisfying first drag from a cigarette.
“Don’t forget, Abigail: I intend to cause you pain. If you’re mine, you’re going to suffer. But if you didn’t enjoy a little suffering, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”
“No, sir,” I said.
Mason smiled and kissed me again. I felt the heat radiating off his enormous frame, dwarfing me underneath. Even if I weren’t handcuffed I would have felt trapped underneath him.
Part of me couldn’t believe this was actually happening. A few months ago, I thought this pleasure would forever be denied to me, at least in this world. Ascension meant paradise, but did that mean sex? Or would we exist in some other form where sex wasn’t even possible? I hadn’t had the courage to ask Brady if he knew. It seemed a waste to go through life and not experience something that was said to bring such pleasure, but then the temptation to sin often came in the form of momentary bliss.
This moment, I realized, meant more than simply experiencing such joy for the first time: it meant turning a page on my life at Good Souls. If Dr. Davis was right, and Brady was wrong, I would know it, I was sure.
“Remember, Abigail. After this, I own you. There will always be a part of you that belongs to me. And, for better or worse, you’ll never be truly free of me.”
His words sent chills through me; he was right. I would always remember this. “I’m ready,” I said.
Mason nodded. He slipped off his underwear, then sat on his knees on the bed, straddling my body, so I could see his cock in its entirety. I’d seen them before, so I wasn’t surprised, but it had the desired effect: I imagined how it would feel inside me, and soon fresh juices dampened the sheets below me.
I gasped as I felt the tip begin to penetrate; he worked his way in gently, pulling back out quickly and then going back in slowly, allowing me time to adjust. As he dug deeper, I trembled from the increasing pain, but it was still good pain. When I gazed into Mason’s eyes, he turned away, and for a second I felt sick. It was as though I had been dangling from a cliff and he could have grabbed my hand, but didn’t, allowing me to fall.
Am I being crazy? Or did he not want to look at me?
So many thoughts clogged my brain, it was a wonder I managed to block them out so I could enjoy the moment. When Mason’s full length was inside, I screamed; joy and agony came served in the same glass, and I couldn’t drink enough. His thrusts started off mild and easy, making for a smooth rhythm that my body could take. He sucked on my nipples and used his fingers on my clit at the same time.
Once he moved on from my breast, he pressed his lips against mine, and this time I felt his tongue press its way into my mouth. I shuddered, thinking about having him inside me in two ways at once; a few hours ago, the idea seemed impossibly sinful, and now it made me hotter than I’d ever felt. My tongue danced against his, and I sucked on his lips until he broke off our kiss.
“Y
ou’re getting it now,” he said. “Your instincts are taking over, instead of all that bullshit Brady fed you on the farm.”
“Yeah,” I moaned. “Yeah.”
“Say it.” Mason increased the pace of his thrusts. “Tell me you know.”
“Know?” Know what? I couldn’t think of anything but the extraordinary waves of bliss overwhelming my every sense.
Mason, however, was in total control. “Tell me… you don’t believe… Brady’s bullshit.”
The euphoria grew so strong as his tempo rose to a steady pounding. I bucked against my bindings, but the cuffs had nothing to fear from me. Mason may as well have been asking me the color of the sky, or the letters of the alphabet. I couldn’t think of anything past his next plunge, the next rapturous ripple.
“Say it,” he repeated.
“It’s bullshit,” I whispered.
Mason jammed himself into me hard. “Louder!”
“It’s bullshit,” I cried. The force drove me to the edge of a massive orgasm, and I wanted so badly to feel the sweet release.
“Louder!”
“It’s… bullshit!” I screamed, drawing in a deep breath so I could hurl back Mason’s words loud enough to make his ears pop.
That must have been sufficient, because as soon as I said it Mason began to hammer me like a machine. His body seemed to have no limit on how hard or fast it could move. Torment and ecstasy exploded inside me. A cry escaped my lips as I imagined the demons cackling as the gate to heaven shut in front of my face, but then I felt too good to care. I didn’t care what kind of paradise ascension offered; how could it have possibly felt as good as this?
It wasn’t just the joy; I needed the pain too. They fed off each other, coalescing in a way that could not be separated. I didn’t want to have less pain for more pleasure, I needed the balance of both. I craved the restraint and being at Mason’s mercy. Maybe there was something seriously wrong with me, but now that my orgasm was erupting I believed what he had said. It’s a good sick.
“I’m coming!” I screamed, enfolded in exquisite intoxication. Mason didn’t reply; he kept going. His heavy breathing and his expression told me he felt the same way. By the time the surge inside me ended, Mason finished as well. He rose up onto his knees and wiped the sweat from his brow. After a moment to catch his breath, he reached over to the nightstand and snatched the handcuff keys. He unlocked one of my wrists and placed my freed hand over my chest. Setting the keys back down, he turned over and laid down next to me.
