Bud thought his dick might combust if he didn’t give it some relief soon, but he loved this part of hurting someone — so near the goal and they thought they were nearly to home base without a clue he was about to show them he’d been taking it easy on them and they were still miles away.

She was having trouble just handling the five clamps all at once. The antenna was going to send her running again when he hit the backs of her thighs instead of her ass.

And her tongue hanging out of her mouth with the clamp on it — damn, but she was beautiful.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

He instinctively knew she’d have problems asking for it, but telling him she was ready would be different, in her mind. She had no idea it was the first step towards learning to ask to be hurt.

Of course, on her toes with all of the cruel, merciless clamps, she just wanted to get this final strike over with, so a mere three seconds later she hesitatingly said, “I’m ready, Sir.”

He’d have to talk to her about the Sir thing later. He was okay with it now, when she was deep into subspace, but he wouldn’t let her get in the habit of saying it outside of a scene. She was his equal, outside of this.

The instant she gave the okay, he aimed and let the antenna fly. Not enough to break skin, but harder than she’d experienced before. She gave another blood curdling scream and he caught her as she fell to her knees.

“Huck! Can’th… damn! Hith! Huck!”

Bud didn’t even try to suppress his grin at her mangled cursing, though she did better talking with her tongue clamped than most. She was staring at the floor with her eyes unfocused and didn’t see his smile, and he modulated his voice so she’d hear his sympathy without the undercurrent of laughter.

“I know. So much pain. Breathe through it. Hold onto me if it helps.”

Her hands wound around him and she squeezed, and he snugged her even closer to him, which made her squeal a little because of the clamps on her breasts. He backed off enough so he could sooth her without hurting her more. For now.

He gave her a good five minutes before they tried it again, and it took a few more strikes before she finally managed to stand still. She tore three more sheets of paper for a total of six, but they’d deal with that later. His brat needed her first orgasm of the night, and he was badly in need of release.

Nothing beats gently fucking someone while they cry because you just hurt them. Well, a few things do, but this was near the top of his list. He didn’t even count all the way to five, but stopped at three and lifted her into his arms, cradled her to his chest, and walked her to his bed.

“Don’t roll over. Stay on your back and pull your knees to your chest for me, Brat.”

He only needed a few seconds to roll the condom on, and then he was below her and his cock was buried in her oh-so-slick pussy. Her eyes shot open and her mouth formed an O around her tongue — still held outside her mouth by the clamp — but she didn’t make a sound.

She needed his cock as badly as he needed to give it to her, but he couldn’t lose himself in her body just yet.

He gently removed the clamp from her tongue first, and then her clit hood and clit. She’d had a lot of pain and this was supposed to be the good part, but he couldn’t help himself, so he twisted and pulled on the nipple clamps a few times before at last taking them off.

God, but her moans and tears were like music running through his veins and vibrating through his cock. He unclamped both nipples at the same time, tossed them onto the side table with the others, and held her wrists out to her side as the sharp pain of removal assaulted her nipples.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

He slid in and out, in and out, oh-so-slow, and Nickie met his gaze without needing to be told. He fell into her soul, into the depths of her submission, and wasn’t sure he’d ever find his way out. This woman hadn’t just grabbed him by the heartstrings, she’d captured his inner wolf and his inner sadist’s heart and soul, too.

So many loose threads to try to tie up before he could move her in with him and make her his forever, but in that moment it became a top priority.

She was his, he just had to show her what that meant.

* * *

Nickie had never orgasmed so hard in her life, her body rocking and thrashing in raw pleasure with the hard muscles of Bud’s body weighting her down so she could barely move as she arched against him and her pussy clenched around his hard, fat, cock that filled her so fully she never got used to his size. His voice was all crushed gravel and raw heat as he told her to come, and then come some more, and told her he loved the way her pussy squeezed his cock when she came. He rose up and slammed into her while she came undone under him, over and over, hard and fast while he ordered her to keep coming until she shattered into slivers of raw ecstasy, but Bud only moved faster and harder until Nickie’s vision went black and she became the sensations, the joy, the rapture, the pleasure. Every cell, every nerve in her being was alive, alert, aware.

Bud’s entire body went granite hard over her and his breath went ragged. His cock pulsed heat inside her, and Nickie’s spine arched to accept him, her heart a wild thing in her chest as her body thrashed through the powerful contractions and tremors of her orgasm until they finally faded.

For once, Bud collapsed beside her and held her. When he caught his breath, he pet her in lazy, possessive strokes — her hips, her thighs, her stomach.

She was nearly asleep when he patted her thigh and said, “We aren’t finished.”

He lifted her and carried her to the bathroom, stood her in front of the sink. “Wash your face. I love your tears, but we need to wash the reminders away and start with a clean canvas.”

Clean canvas? Was he going to make her cry again? She was exhausted, and not in the least bit horny anymore. She was finished for the night.

She met his gaze in the mirror and the submissive in her nodded to him and turned the water on to wash her face. The ordeal with the antenna had affected her more than she’d realized because she suddenly wanted to be whatever he needed, wanted to accept any pain he felt compelled to give her.

He told her to use the toilet and went back to the bedroom to wait for her, and had her drink some water when she came out. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was, and she drank nearly the entire bottle in one gulp. She finished it once she’d gotten her breath again, and he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“How many sheets of paper did you tear?”

Nickie’s heart fell into her stomach. “Six, Sir.”

“You tried hard not to tear the first, but then not so hard for the second when you weren’t punished for it. After that, I’m not sure you tried all that hard to keep from ripping them.”

Nickie closed her eyes and looked down. He was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. He’d told her consequences might not happen right away. Why hadn’t she believed him?

“If you’d have tried, you’d have merely stood in the corner one minute for every sheet of paper. Since you didn’t try, I need to underline how important it is you follow instructions. Even when it’s hard.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

He kissed her forehead again. “I know you are, but it doesn’t change the consequences. Let’s get this over with.”

He lifted her in his arms again, walked her to the wall, and stood her so she was facing the corner.

“What do you feel under your feet?”

She looked down and her heart quailed. “Uncooked rice, Sir.”

“On your knees, hands to the small of your back. My phone will let you know when the six minutes are up. I’ll be out on the deck — I need to check the chemicals in the hot tub before I put the cover back. I’ll hear the phone when it goes off. Don’t stand until I return and give permission.”

Nickie had once made a submissive kneel on rice with a bar of soap in his mouth when he smarted off to her one too many times. She knew how bad this was going to hurt, and that it was one of the few things even a heavy masochist can’t translate into pleasure.

Bud had warned her ahead of time, but when he’d merely replaced each paper without saying anything, she hadn’t tried so hard to keep them intact. Her hands had come down more times than she could count — surely there wouldn’t be another punishment for that?

She counted time in her head. The first thirty seconds were bad, but the pain grew exponentially as she wiggled and moved until every nerve ending in her knees was on fucking fire. Each piece of rice was a little pebble of hell that dug into skin, bone, and nerves until her sanity threatened to slip. She squeezed her elbows with her fingers to try to remind herself she had nerves in her body other than the million blazing ones in her knees, but it didn’t help. When the phone finally beeped she wasn’t crying, but water streamed from both eyes.

Instead of telling her she could stand, Bud lifted her into his arms once again, and when he sat on the sofa with her, he gently brushed the rice stuck to her knees onto the floor.

“It’s over, Brat. I have you.”

“My hands…” A sob took over, and then another, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. He reached for her hands and looked them over, but she shook her head. “Came down. Sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “They stayed on your head while you were in position. You moved them on top a few times when your arms were tired, but you didn’t move them to stop me, or just because they were tired. No more consequences. They only came down when you totally broke position, and you paid for that when the stroke didn’t count. We’re good, Brat.”

He kissed her tears, and then nuzzled below her ear. “That’s it. Cry and get it out. I’ll hold you. Someday, I’ll want to stuff my cock down your throat while you cry, but not tonight.”

Nickie was both relieved and disappointed he didn’t want to fuck her throat while she cried. Relaxing in the security of his embrace was perfect… and yet, being tossed to the floor and made to suck his cock right now would kind of be the icing on the cake.

“We aren’t finished. Gonna fuck your ass good in a little while, but want to hold you first. My dick can wait.”

* * *

Bud awakened Nickie the next morning by pulling the covers off her, rolling her onto her stomach, and rubbing an arnica and coconut oil mixture into her ass and thighs. She’d be sitting easy for a week, at least. Logistically, it might’ve been better to hold off on the antenna until the seventh night, but he knew it was right to do it up front. They’d needed the bonding, and his brat had needed help submitting.

Eventually, she’d push him to punish her, but he hoped to push that as far into the future as possible. He’d continue to give her consequences, but he didn’t want to have to deal with a true punishment until after she’d figured out she loved him. He’d have to give her one if she earned it, so he’d work the situation to give her enough pain to keep her curiosity at bay for a while.

Her ass was pliable under his fingers, and she whimpered when he rubbed the mixture directly into the welts. He changed things up and massaged long strokes from her thighs up her ass, and she moaned and whined and pushed her bottom up to him. His nose told him exactly how horny she was, but he had other plans.

He slapped the side of her thigh, where the bruising wasn’t too bad. “Gag training starts this morning while your stomach’s empty. Let’s move to the sofa.”

“Need to use the restroom, Sir,” she told him as she rolled to her side.

He looked at her, inhaled her scent, and turned to sit with his back against the headboard.

Nickie gingerly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, and Bud told her, “I’m not Sir when we’re like this. I’m more than pleased to hear it come out of your mouth when you’re deep in subspace, but not for this kind of conversation.”

She finished her business in the bathroom and waited until she was coming through the door back into the bedroom to say, “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me calling you Sir?”

“I don’t want you calling me Sir in front of anyone. Ever. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned, we’re equals. My men will know we get kinky behind closed doors because they know what I like, but they’ll see you by my side and they’ll know we’re a power couple. Both of us in full power.”

She’d climbed back into bed and under the covers while he talked, and she rested her head on his leg, perfectly comfortable with the intimacy of it.

“And if I call you Sir now, I might slip up and say it in front of others.”

“Right. If you want to use it while you’re brattin’, we’ll see how it works.”

She rolled her eyes. “SAM. Not brat.” She pulled her legs in, sat up, and her clear blue eyes met his. “You’re one of the most intense sadists I’ve known, and yet you have your own rules. It has me a little off balance, but that’s okay.”

Bud grinned. “Thought I had you off balance by half-assing your OTK spanking last night?”

“Fuck, yeah.” She stuck a hand under each cheek, wiggled a little as she felt them. “I can barely tell the difference this morning. That antenna is wicked evil.”

Bud had tortured men for real with them — hit them and split their skin open when they didn’t answer his questions. He’d been relatively gentle using it on Nickie, but she didn’t need to know just how sadistic he could be when he was torturing the enemy.

He started to order her to go to the chair and kneel on a cushion, but he wasn’t up for a battle of wills just then. A few weeks from now it should be no big deal to give her orders, but she was working through how she felt about them now and he needed to pick his battles.

“The antenna is for special occasions and last night felt important. Come, time for your gag training.” He took her hand and she slid off the bed beside him.

On second thought, maybe a few commands might work if he gave them as a choice.

He sat in the chair, his ass at the edge and his legs spread. “Need you on your knees. Your choice as to whether you use one of the sofa cushions on the floor or go down straight onto the hardwood.”

“Well gee, Sir. Let me think.” Her body language was that of over-exaggerated contemplation. “Hmmm, do I want my bruised and battered knees on hardwood, or a soft-cushion?”

She tossed a cushion to the floor, angled it so it fit between his feet, and gently went to her knees.

“This morning’s all you,” he told her. “No face-fucking, and I’ll keep my hands to myself. If you can make your lips touch my body and hold for a count of ten, you’ll get an orgasm this morning. If you can’t do it, once you give up you’ll have ten minutes to get me off. If you don’t, I’ll fuck your ass and make sure you can’t get off.”