Laura

 

 

 

Fuck.

As soon as I sense his presence, I jerk up from my position, just like anyone would when they're caught masturbating. First and foremost, I'm ashamed, but I also fear the repercussions of being caught. I was warned never to use the toys without him being present, and I wasn't allowed to come without him.

I knew this, but I still couldn't help myself. He's never left me in such agony, so bewildered and aroused, so dazed with lust it was torture. I didn't expect him to return this quickly, or maybe I've just become really bad at sensing time.

I crawl back on the bed and toss the vibrator aside, as if that would reverse my transgressions. He steps closer, shaking his head and regarding me with a dark smile, and I gather up the blanket to wrap it around myself in an attempt to protect myself from him.

He laughs at my effort.

"You should be scared, doll," he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed about two feet away from me, his back turned halfway toward me. "You're lucky that I'm so easy to amuse and be appeased with you."

He taps the space right next to him, beckoning me to come closer.

"Come here," he whispers without looking at me. "Let me touch you."

I hesitate for a moment, but then realize any reluctance will only worsen my punishment. I cast the blanket aside and slowly scuttle over to him, cautiously coming close to him.

He turns to me. His expression is unhappy, and when he reaches for the ring on my collar, I can sense why. He pulls me closer, until my naked body is pressed firmly against his.

"Why did you leave me like that?" I ask. He averts my seeking gaze, only wrapping an arm around me to keep me close. He pulls me closer, as if worried I‘ll run away any moment, but he still avoids looking at me.

This is new. Usually, I was the one to divert my eyes, while he always insisted on fixating his gaze on me.

"Is something wrong?"

He shakes his head.

"Everything is fine as long as you are with me, doll."

His words seer my heart with a strange but welcome warmth. I don't know what to make of it, but I like what he’s telling me.

"Why is it so dark in here?" I ask. It’s a question that‘s been on my mind since he stormed into the room to fuck me like a wild savage.

"I wanted you to get some rest," he says. "Any amount of light disturbs even the the most tired, wouldn't you agree?"

I shrug. "I guess so. I was just surprised, you didn't do it the last time I was here."

"Be grateful then. Maybe I'm being a little nicer to you this time."

There's something bitter about his voice. I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Did something happen while I was sleeping? Something that doesn't have to do with him and me? Something work-related? Did he get some kind of bad news?

"What time is it?" I ask. "Is it night?"

My question unsettles him. I can tell by how he tenses up.

"That's none of your concern."

"It kind of is, because-"

"It's not," he insists adamantly, interrupting me. "You're here with me now. That's all that matters."

I cast him a look from the side, hoping he‘ll turn his face toward me and at least let his eyes speak to me, if not his voice. But he doesn't, instead he continues to stare in front of him, the same apathetic expression on his face.

"Are you sure you're okay, master?" I repeat my earlier question, my voice soft and conveying understanding and acceptance. I'm addressing him the way he wants me to, knowing it usually results in the response for which I’m hoping. Information, mercy, a reward.

Not this time, though.

He refuses to let me in on whatever it is bothering him. But he does turn his head to me, his blue eyes finally meeting mine, looking as if he's just made a resolution.

"Did you come, doll?" he asks, locking me down with his intense gaze.

I blush, inhaling audibly.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't–"

"Did you come?" he interrupts me. "That's all I want to know. It’s an easy question. Be honest."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, I didn't come."

I was so very close – twice – first when he was fucking me, and then when I was touching myself, so desperate to evoke that release he refused me. But he barged in just before I climaxed.

"You didn't make yourself come either?" he probes.

I blush, lowering my eyes. "No, master."

"Good," he says. "Because that's my job. Every single one of your orgasms belong to me while you're here. You know that, doll."

"Yes, master."

"You know that, but you still disobeyed and touched yourself," he says. "You even stole one of my toys."

He's completely calm as he lists all the things I've done to displease him. I remember our first meeting, the day he explained to me the difference between overstepping boundaries and sheer disobedience. Rules, punishments, rewards. Based on what I know, I’ve committed one of the greatest offenses imaginable by stealing a release that belonged to him by touching myself and  using a toy that I wasn't supposed to touch when he wasn't around.

"You know I can't let that go unpunished," he adds. It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes, master," I reply in a low voice, nodding in defeat.

My body is already so sore that I don't even want to imagine the magnitude of my punishment. And of course, he knows me well enough to come up with the one thing I hate the most.

He gets up from the bed, holding the end of the leash in his hand and forcing me to follow him, awkwardly stumbling, as I try to keep myself from falling over.  I quickly give up and drop to all fours to follow him, the position I know he prefers anyway.

He turns up the light in passing by raising a little switch next to the door. The light is still dimmed, but at least now I can make out more than vague outlines.

He drags me over to the glass cabinet, and soon my worst fear comes true. He opens the door and reaches for the cane, the same fucking cane he used on me during our very first night together.

"Tell you what, doll," he says, weighing the cane in his hands. "I'll use this on you, and I'll make you fucking love it."

He turns around, looking down at me, a mean glint sparkling in his blue eyes. I want to pinch my eyebrows and tell him how ridiculous this sounds to me, but I know this response would only worsen my situation. Still, I can't see how he can even imagine that I could come to love this fucking thing. The cane is nothing but pain, and I can't remember taking any pleasure from it when he used it on me the last time.

He lets go of the leash and drops it to the floor, nodding toward the bed.

"Get back over there, doll," he commands. "Kneel before the bed, and place your elbows on top of it."

I pause only for a second before complying to his command. "Yes, master."

I crawl over to the bed, knowing his eyes are on me every second. I stop when I reach the bed frame, straightening up on my knees. I bend forward, supporting myself on the mattress. I hollow my back, knowing he‘ll ask me to do it anyway.

"Good girl," he praises, noticing my efforts.

I flinch in surprise when, instead of feeling the crushing blow of the cane, his strong hands caress my body. He‘s placed himself behind me and is stroking along both sides of my back, all the way down to my hips. His touch is soothing and electrifying at the same time. He cups my ass, kneading the bruised skin as he pulls my cheeks apart to expose my core to him.

I can't suppress a little moan, even though I try to remain quiet. His hands travel further, assessing every inch of my ass before moving one of them between my legs. He pinches me on the inner side of my thighs to spread my legs further apart. I oblige and am rewarded with a tingling sensation when he reaches between my legs, one of his fingers sliding between my labia and making me jerk at the sensation. I've been so close to coming twice already that my arousal never really subsided, even while I was sitting next to him, fearing punishment. It's always hovered at the surface, ready to take over at the slightest stimulation.

Just like this. His touch is so sensual, so fucking erotic, there's no way for me to withstand it. And I don't want to withstand it. If I'm to expect punishment with the cane, I want to be in the best mental state possible, more aroused than in agony.

"Look at you," he whispers hoarsely behind me. "Dripping all over my hand like a good girl."

His naughty words only add to my agitation, and when he begins to draw circles around my swollen nub, I'm so overwhelmed that I let out a hearty groan. Shame is always dancing in the corner of my mind when I'm with him, but it's beginning to only fuel my incitement.

Just as I lean into his skilled touch, he withdraws his hand, leaving me empty and exposed, throbbing with need for more. I lean back, my hips following his retreating hand.

But instead of a sensual massage, I'm met with sharp pain as he strikes the cane down on my ass for the first time. I shriek out in anguish, still processing the pain when he hits me again. It leaves a stinging ache in a different spot on my ass, a little lower than the first time. A third strike hits me even lower, causing me to writhe and round my back.

"No, doll," he says. "You stay pretty for me. Arch that back and show me that pretty ass."

He places his hand on the small of my back, applying gentle pressure to beckon me to hollow it, to stick my aching ass out.

"More," he demands. "And spread your legs."

I do as I'm told, and I'm rewarded with the return of his hand between my legs, sliding between my lips to toy with my sensitive nub. I groan, hollowing my back further and leaning into his touch. It's a lot easier to obey his commands like this, when his skilled fingers are playing with my core, evoking warm thrills of bliss.

Just like before, he takes it away from me in a split second, replacing pleasure with another round of sharp pain. I'm prepared this time, fighting to maintain my position, even as my skin screams out in agony. Another blow follows, and this one doesn't just hit my ass, but inflicts a sting on my pussy, as well. I flinch, but more out of surprise than pain. He adds a longer pause this time, watching my reaction as I process the pain after his last strike.

"You like that, doll?"

I don't know how to reply, so I just lower my head, trembling in confusion.

A desperate shriek escapes my lips a moment later when he lands another blow on my tortured ass. It‘s so low this time that I'm sure I don't imagine the pain on my labia.

A swooshing sound announces another stroke that’s quickly followed by another one, and another one. I'm breaking out into a sweat, trembling as I breathe through the pain, my hands clenching around the sheets on the bed, my cries turning into groans. The pain travels through me with fiery vigor, consuming every part of me, my mind, my body... and my heart. I pant in agony. My ass is glowing with heat, enduring more jabs, each one of them placed in a slightly different spot than the one before, and each inflicting its own burn.

Sweat is running down my spine and drenching the sheets, as I'm shaken by spasms. My sweat is mixed with tears.

And then everything changes. As if a switch is turned on inside of me, the pain... changes. The stings remain the same, but the effect they have on me turns into something completely different. They're no longer pure agony, but now another emotion comes into play.

Pleasure. Bliss. A warm tingling flickers through my core each time the cane lands on my ass, and especially the ones that leave a stinging taste on my pussy.

I find myself leaning into the strokes, hollowing my back and spreading my legs, providing better access so the cane can reach my center. He notices the shift and grants me my wish, landing a particularly intense strike on my pussy. And then he throws the cane to the side.

I explode on his fingers just a second later, my core still heated by that last intense blow. I‘m throbbing and clenching around him shamelessly as he fingers me, barely caressing my swollen clit.

"Good girl, very good girl," his soothing voice hovers over me as I tense around his fingers.

My vision is blurred and I can barely hear his voice, as wave after wave of euphoria robs me of my senses. I feel nothing but bliss resonating through my entire body, stirring inside my belly, my chest, all the way through my shivering limbs.

I would have collapsed onto the floor if he hadn’t caught me just in time. He wrapped his arm around my limp body, keeping his other hand at my center, applying gentle pressure as the last surges of the strongest orgasm I've ever experienced culminate in a grand finale.