Ruby

 

 

 

I don't understand why this is happening to me. And I don't understand him.

Why is he doing this? Why is he being so gentle with me now? Is it my vulnerability that turns him on? Is this part of the thrill for him?

I don't know what he has in store for me. Now that I know who he is - or rather who he isn't - there's nothing I can hope to expect from him, there's nothing I can rely on. He could hurt me, abuse me all day long - he could kill me.

He could actually kill me.

Is that what he had in mind when he took me? True fear, true terror - followed by a true end so his deed never gets discovered?

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask him. My words are muffled as my face is pressed against his firm chest. His strong, muscular chest that I adored just a few days ago, when I refused to believe this is not what I thought it was.

"Not if I don't have to," he says. His words make my heart stutter with fear.

"How will you know if you have to?"

He doesn't give me a reply, but instead he carefully pushes me away from him, making sure that I'm stable, kneeling next to him, before he brings his hands behind my back, looking over my shoulder as he fiddles with the knots around my wrists.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Using you," he replies. "That's what you're here for after all."

I take in a big gulp of air, scolding myself when I notice a subtle wave of arousal washing over me, warming my core and making my heart turn in somersaults. This is sick. Even I should know that this is the absolute worst moment, the absolute worst circumstance to be aroused by.

"What are you going to do?" I elaborate. "What's going to happen?"

"Shut up, toy," he hisses, finally loosening the knots pinching around my wrists.

He holds my arms in place, his hands replacing the rope, yet immobilizing me just as effectively.

"You don't want to fight me, toy," he warns hoarsely. "You'll regret it."

I'm paralyzed, unsure what to make of the thrilling heat that's spreading throughout my body. Holy shit, I'm fucked-up.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," I hurry to reply.

His grip around my wrists tightens, and he bends my arms, causing me to groan in pain.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, master."

The pressure on my arms eases immediately, and I sigh in relief, the rush still accelerating my heart rate. To my surprise, he unfastens the ropes completely. I don't even think to fight him, letting my limbs relax when he lets go of me. I feel like a fool when I breathe in his scent as he bends over me, reaching for the hem of my shirt and slowly pulling it up and over my head, while I obediently raise my arms to help him.

I even moan when he touches my exposed breasts, cupping them almost lovingly before he squeezes them forcefully, with need. His eyes hungrily travel along my upper body, a focused expression on his face as he contemplates his next move.

His hands leave my body, and I watch as he fiddles with the rope, calmly rolling it up in his hands.

"Stretch out your arms and cross your wrists," he commands.

My hands are visibly shaking when I oblige and hold out my arms toward him. I cross my wrists and observe his skillful dexterity as he closes the rope around them, quickly fastening expert knots to tie my hands together.

He gets up from the mattress and pulls at the rope, beckoning me to follow him. "Get up."

I get to my feet and stumble behind him, and he leads me over to that damn stretching bench. My heart sinks at the idea of being tied up on that thing again, but as it turns out, that's not his plan at all. Instead, we circle the bench, leaving me wondering what our actual destination could be. He turns around to look at me, visibly enjoying the view of me walking behind him, my tits exposed and my wrists tied. I'm wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, and I'm pretty sure that I'm about to lose those, as well.

He pulls me away from the stretching bench and finally shows me where we're headed. We have never used the leathery bondage horse before, and despite everything, I can't help but feel excited when he tells me to climb on it.

"Not perfect, because I don't get to see your perfect tits," he comments, as I position myself. "But it will have to do for right now, toy."

I cast him a look that lets him know I have nothing in the way of a reply to that, and he lets it pass.

It's a rather small piece of furniture, and even with my short body, it allows me to put my tied-up wrists over the edge at the top while still having my ass exposed on the other end. I'm pretty sure this is no coincidence, because this way he can fuck me from both sides, if that's his wish. He positions my knees to his liking before he comes around to the front, never letting go of the rope binding my hands.

He looks at me as if to confirm that I'm okay, but he doesn't say a word. My eyes follow him when he falls to his knees in front of me and quickly fastens the rope around the legs of the furniture. It's obvious that he's very experienced with rope, and I like that about him. I've always enjoyed the sight of a man who knows what he's doing.

Even though his skills could mean a lot of trouble for me.

The thought sends chills down my spine. The realization comes back to me in flashes, reminding me of the danger I'm in, but only for as long as I allow my mind to go there. I let out a desperate sigh, causing him to cast me a questioning look.

"I want to enjoy this," I say. "I want to, because I really need this. But I'm scared..."

My voice fails me once again, and I'm capable of nothing but a pleading gaze when he reaches for my face, squeezing my cheeks with one hand tilting my head back to face him. The look on his face remains neutral, unreadable - until his lips turn up into a subtle smile.

"Good," he says simply.

He gets back up on his feet. "It'll be easier for you if you don't fight me."

Easier. I never wanted easy. I'm not a brat, but I've always enjoyed teasingly fighting back to whatever was asked of me. Punishment didn't come with the same sweet taste if I didn't deserve it.

With him, things are different. I don't know how far he's willing to go, I don't know his limits, or if he has any, and he might cross my hard limits because he doesn't even know what they are.

Yes, he could do that. But somehow I don't think he would intentionally. It strikes me as odd that I still trust him in this regard, but the way he held back when I begged him not to slap my face gave me confidence. He listened then because he could tell that he was about to do something wrong. Back then I thought it was because he remembered the contract he signed, but now that I know he's not the one who signed it, I'm inclined to think he can sense when he's going too far, when things are getting too real for me.

On the other hand, isn't that exactly what he wants? Something real?

"Toy," he calls to me. He‘s now standing behind me. I didn't even notice that he'd moved.

"Yes," I breathe, trying to look back over my shoulder, but I can't bend far enough with my hands tied to the legs of the bondage horse.

I yelp in surprise when his hand lands on my behind with a sudden slap.

"Yes, master," I correct myself.

"Defiance calls for correction," he says, and I jerk again when I can feel something cold on my upper thigh, just where my shorts end. "You know that, right?"

"Yes, master," I reply, wondering what he's about to do.

I gasp when he moves the cold metallic item along my skin, and I realize that it's a pair of scissors. For a moment I’m consumed by panic, panic that he might want to hurt me.

No blood.

No cuts.

But he's not using the scissors on my skin. Instead, he uses them to cut my shorts, the most luxurious pair of shorts I've ever worn, and he just cuts them as if it was nothing. To him, it probably isn't.

He moves the scissors along my skin, cutting the fabric all the way from bottom to top in various places, until he's able to rip them apart and expose my ass in front of him.

"Now," he says, throwing the pieces of fabric aside.

"I know you can take this. You have been spanked before, haven't you, toy?"

I mentally sigh in relief. Spanking. I can not only take that, I might actually enjoy it.

"Yes, I have," I respond, shivering with anticipation when I hear him unbuckling his belt. A classic.

"Good, you have nothing to fear then, have you?"

Before I can give him a reply, I feel the first blow cutting across my skin. I shriek out in pain, instantly wondering why I thought I'd enjoy this.

I'm whimpering, and it's only been one slap.

"This will be easy enough for you, toy," he says in a hoarse voice. "But I don't want to make this too easy for you, so there's one thing you'll have to keep in mind. If you don't... well, you're going to be in bigger trouble than before."

I nod, even though I don't know what I'm agreeing to, because he hasn't specified his demand yet.

"This belt will land on your pretty ass as often as I deem adequate," he continues. "You can scream, you can cry, but there are two things you're forbidden to do."

He pauses, filling the silence with another burning hit to my ass. I don't cry out this time, but instead I endure the pain in tense silence.

"First, you're not allowed to move," he elaborates. "And second, you're not allowed to get wet."

My eyes widen in shock, and I can't stop myself from letting out a helpless moan.

That's impossible.

There's no way I'll be able to oblige his second command.