Liana

 

 

 

What is this? Pain, that’s for sure. I never knew that it was possible to inflict this amount of pain with just a hand, a simple slap on the ass, a spanking. How something so silly can hurt this badly?

I’m feeling as if I’ve broken a fever. My entire body is burning and shaking, while sweat is running down my back. My cheeks are glowing and I feel dizzy and confused. When I can feel the touch of his hand on my ass again, I jerk away from him. His touch is gentle, barely touching my tortured skin as he caresses the curve of my ass, but the contact still sends a burning pain sizzling through me, every nerve ending on fire.

“You did very good,” he whispers in my ear, while his hand rests softly, gently, against the heat of my skin.

I’m panting as if I’d just finished running a marathon, and I feel equally exhausted.

And so fucking turned on.

My mind feels foggy, thinking only of one thing. I want more. I want – no need – more of him. I need him inside of me.

“Look at me,” his voice commands me from the left side of my body.

I obey and turn my face to him, my eyes only opened halfway when they meet his. He’s fixating on me, his gaze earnest and concentrated, as if he’s searching for something in my expression.

My legs spread from being tied against the cross, so it’s easy for him to take advantage of my exposure, as his hand wanders lower, finding the spot between my legs that tells him everything he wants to know.

I moan when he reaches my pulsating core, gently parting my lips before he slides one finger inside. His arm is pressing against the abused skin on my ass, sending little bolts of pain through my center that mix deliciously with my arousal.

“What a slutty good girl,” he whispers, his face still close to mine. “This was supposed to be a punishment. How come your pussy is drooling all over my hand right now?”

I don’t know, I want to say. I really don’t know.

“Did you enjoy this?” he wants to know.

I groan as he starts playing with my clit, picking up on my agitation and laying havoc with it. I know I could come like this, but I don’t want to.

And I’m not sure if he wants me to.

“You did like it, didn’t you?” he says, continuing his assessment. “I guess I was too nice to you.”

I shake my head, still robbed of words. ‘Nice’ is not a word I would use for what he just did to me; it was quite the opposite, actually. The spanking hurt more than I expected. I feared every single blow more than the one before. They grew in intensity and in the level of pain. As my skin was becoming more sensitive to the torture, he only increased the impact.

I can still feel the pain oscillating through my body, but by now it has changed into a staggering throbbing that feels very similar to a slight buzz after having a few glasses of wine. It’s almost pleasant.

He withdraws his hand from my center, leaving me in drenched in heat, desperate to come. He will let me come, right? He has before.

I look at him, a question clearly written on my face, but all he does is lick my juices from his fingers, relishing the taste of it. Another rush of heat spreads through my face, this time caused by embarrassment.

He goes down on his knees and unfastens the shackles around my ankles. I’m so taken by my horny vertigo, that I can’t help hollowing my back for him as soon as my feet are freed and I can position them away from the cross, allowing for an invitation that was not possible before.

He chuckles next to me.

“Poor needy Pet,” he comments.

I hide my face from him, ashamed at my own arousal. And he doesn’t even release me from my shame by giving me what I want.

Instead, he beckons me to stand up straight, gently leading me back into position by applying a soft push on my sore behind. I cast him a questioning look when he begins to unfasten my wrists, showing no intention of taking me from behind as I expected he would. Isn’t this why he kidnapped me? To fuck me? Isn’t that what he said he’d do?

“You’re not going to fuck me?” I blurt out, after he has released my hands and taken hold of my leash to lead me out of the room.

“Not today,” he says.

“Why not?” I want to know.

He doesn’t give me a response, but leads me back into the bedroom. Hope blossoms in my chest when he leads me toward the bed and attaches the leash to the black frame. He gestures for me to get on the bed, and I oblige, unsure how he wants me to position myself. I sit on my heels, the only position he has taught me so far, my hands resting on my thighs, as I cast a questioning look up at him. My naked heels feel like hot daggers piercing through the tortured skin on my ass as I sit on them.

He’s standing next to the bed, shaking his head while crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Not today,” he repeats, and my heart sinks.

“Isn’t that why you brought me here?” I ask. “To fuck me? To have me please you?”

He smiles.

“This is pleasing me,” he says. “Seeing you like this is pleasing me.”

I lower my eyes, averting his gaze.

“Why are you not fucking me?” I ask. My question not only comes from my greedy need for him to take me, but also because he scares me. His reluctance to do the obvious scares the hell out of me.

“Because that’s not what we’re doing today,” he says.

I clasp my hands together, suddenly awfully aware of my own nakedness, now that the heated vertigo from before is dissipating.

“What are we going to do today, Master?” I ask, lifting my chin to look up at him.

He has his hands buried in his suit pants, again sporting a visible bulge in his crotch. This did turn him on, he wants to fuck me. A man cannot hide his need that easily.

What the hell is wrong with him?

I can ask this question all day long and not find an answer to it.