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 my 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.
“How do you feel, doll?” he asks, his eyes glued onto mine.
I try to speak, but the words escape me.
How do I feel?
Exposed. Humiliated. Horny. Confused.
All of these are suitable to describe my current emotional state, but I can’t find my voice to say any of them.
“No answer, huh?” he remarks. “Don’t know if that’s such a good idea, doll.”
“G-g-good,” I utter, going for the dumbest reply imaginable. “I feel good, master.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and my heart skips a beat when he takes off his suit jacket and begins to unbutton his shirt. Finally.
I watch with delighted excitement as he undresses in front of me, visibly enjoying it to have my gaze centered on him when he reveals his chiseled physique before my eyes. His broad chest is sculptured with muscles, as are his strong arms, which flex deliciously when he starts to unbuckle his belt. I never knew I was a visual person, but when I catch sight of his perfectly v-shaped pelvic muscles, I feel a strong desire to run my tongue along them, following their path to his cock.
He’s still hard, according to the impressive bulge protruding noticeably when he drops his suit pants. He casually steps out of them as he approaches me, soon wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.
“My eyes are up here, doll,” he reminds me.
I blush as I tear my eyes away from his crotch and tilt my head as good as I can to meet his gaze above me.
He comes to a halt right in front of me, his feet only inches away from my exposed center.
“What a naughty little doll you are,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he reciprocates my look. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but all you can think of is having my cock inside of you, isn’t it?”
I bite my lower lip in lieu of a reply.
“Again, no answer, huh?” he says, leaning down and supporting himself on the edge of the bed. He pushes his pelvis forward so that his bulge is positioned right in front of my face, so close that I could lick it if I stuck my tongue out.
“Well, if you have don‘t need it to talk to me, at least make that mouth useful for something else,” he says. “Get my cock out and show me what a good girl you can be.”