Joseph

 

 

 

I didn’t like that last question. Am I going to kill her? Why would she say something like that?

She looks tense and nervous, back to the frightened young girl, the one I tried to get rid of by making her come on my fingers.

“Does this scare you?” I ask her.

She nods. “Yes.”

Again, she forgets to address me properly. I’m about to lose my patience with her.

“Good,” I say. “It’s supposed to scare you, because this is where most of your training will take place.”

She looks up at me, her eyes now filled with bewilderment. “Training?”

“Your punishment,” I clarify. “Your training is ongoing, there’s no physical place for it. But this is where you’ll be punished.”

I pull on her leash, forcing her to come closer to me. She follows the motion, grimacing in pain as the collar cuts harshly into her throat. Her breathing speeds up when I lean forward, placing my mouth so close to her ear that her wet hair dances in the current of my breath.

“I’ll whip you, cane you, spank you, tie you up, and force you to come again and again,” I whisper, relishing the heat that radiates from her cheeks. “And you’ll love every second of it.”

She doesn’t have to agree or even say anything. It’s all clearly written on her face when I retreat back a couple of steps to look at her. Her mouth is partly opened, as if she’s about to speak, but no words escape her lips. She looks up at me, her cheeks burning red.

“What do I have to do?” she finally asks. “To get food?”

I raise my eyebrows, giving her a chance to correct herself.

And this time, she notices her mistake all on her own.

“Master,” she adds. “What does my Master want from me?”

I smile at her. “Good girl.”

It unnerves me that she’s flinching away from my touch when I lift my hand to caress her pink cheek.

Time. She needs time, more than any of the others needed. There’s no way for me to direct her behavior other than through the training methods laid out in the contract. I can’t tell her to tone it down, I can’t tell her to be more open to the task she signed up for, and I can’t tell her to be less afraid. Maybe she’s not even acting afraid, maybe it’s the real deal. Maybe she really is this afraid because she didn’t understand what she was really getting herself into.

“I want you to accept your first punishment,” I tell her. “For the many transgressions you’ve incurred so far.”

She bites her lower lip. “I thought the attic was my first punishment.”

I smile. Touché, little Ruby.

“Yes, you’re right,” I agree. “That was your first punishment. But there have been so many other breaches since I let you out of there, one punishment wouldn’t come close to making it right.”

She furrows her eyebrows, trying to recall the mistakes I’m talking about.

“You forgot to address me properly, many times, you’ve talked back, you haven’t answered simple questions, you’ve refused to follow commands,” I explain. “Shall I go on?”

Ruby shakes her head, rolling her eyes at me again, this time in clear sight.

“And that,” I say, pointing at her eyes. “Rolling your eyes at me is one of the worst offenses. If I was you, I’d cut that one out immediately.”

She presses her lips together and nods. “Yes, Master.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I add. “Since you’re new, I’ll be gentle. One punishment to even the score and set you back to zero. Does that sound fair?”

She hesitates, her eyes scanning the room, pausing at the glass cabinet, as she ponders her response.

“I guess so,” she finally replies, adding another blow to her punishment. “What are you thinking?”

She says it as if there’s any room for negotiation. Cute.

“We’ll start slowly. I’ll tie you up to this,” I say, placing my hand on the St. Andrews Cross that we’re standing next to. “And I’ll spank you. I will only use my hands.”

She inhales audibly, her face unreadable when she turns to look at me. Instead of saying a word, she turns her back to me and places herself the way she thinks I want to see her, spreading her legs to put her ankles into the shackles, and then doing the same with her arms.

What a good girl.

I fasten the shackles around her ankles and wrists, and take a step back to admire her. She’s rather slim, but has a perfectly curvy ass that will feel soft beneath my hands. When I approach her, she flinches, burying her face against the cross and closing her eyes. I don’t know if her flinching is due to the anticipation of the pain I will inflict on her, or because she cannot stand to be touched by me in general. If it’s the latter, it will take a lot longer before we can proceed to actual playing. I’m not fucking a woman who doesn’t want me to claim her, ever.

“Eighteen,” I say. “That’s how many slaps you have coming, nine on each side, and you’ll count each one of them. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

There’s no hesitation this time. Her response follows as quickly and obediently as I expect it to.

I stand right next to her, my right hand caressing her pale ass cheek. It will change color once I’m done with her, maybe even leave a mark that she can enjoy for more than a few hours.

“One!” she exclaims after I release the first blow on her ass. I’m starting out slowly, only giving her a taste of what is to come, but even at the second and third strike, she’s already screaming as if the pain may be too much for her to handle.

However, I know she can handle more, way more. She’ll be surprised by how much she’s able to withstand.

“Six!”

It’s the first one that’s accompanied with an actual cry. Her ass cheeks are starting to change color, now glowing in a beautiful pink. I change the location of impact ever so slightly with every fresh slap against her skin. Like an artist drawing his picture, her ass is my canvas, my hand a violent brush, awakening the blood inside her.

“Ten!”

She’s trembling now, her wrist yanking against their constraints while she processes the pain. Her screams are changing, every one sings to a different melody, adding another level of pain and desperation - and lust. Her mind is drifting, moving to a place that might be new to her. It’s apparent in her voice when she yells out “Thirteen!” with a groan that could be an orgasm just as easily as it could be a cry of tremendous pain.

Tiny pearls of sweat are glistening on the small of her back. Her entire body is tense, trembling under a blissful tremor, and I don’t wait to unleash fourteen, fifteen and sixteen on her.

“Only two left,” I tell her. “Let’s make them count.”

She moans an unintelligible reply. Her shrieks during the last two blows are nothing short of a beautiful song, only meant for my ears, the grand finale being her sobbing in relief as she realizes that her ordeal is over.