Chapter 13

 

He found her in the front hallway, on her knees scrubbing the tile. He was hours early for her appointment with discipline. He wanted to catch her by surprise, off-guard, a state in which his Lacey was sweetest.

She didn’t realize he was there at first, so he watched her, the alluring, stunning curves of her hips. The light gray yoga pants — he often wondered if they’d been invented simply to torture ass-obsessed men like him — were like a second skin on her, dividing and displaying each of her luscious buttocks just as blatantly as if she’d been naked.

Which she would be in moments.

The old, worn white button-down shirt she wore was one of several she preferred to don when cleaning. She liked not worrying about bleaching her clothing.

He knew she liked even more that his old shirts still smelled like her husband.

Head turning, her dark eyes wild, she drew in a sharp breath, the length of her hair, caught up in a ponytail, shivering ever so slightly as she looked up at him.

Her lips moved but he pressed a finger to them, dropping to one knee. Those lips moved against his skin and he shook his head, staring at her.

Understanding dawned, and she sat up, her bottom upon her heels. Standing over her for a heartbeat, he drank her in, her quiet obedience already rendering the length of his cock into throbbing iron.

Taking hold of that cute ponytail, he hauled her to her feet, a tiny whimper escaping her lips. He held her by that length of silky locks, wrenching her chin up, exposing her vulnerable throat to him as he tasted the sweat upon her skin, licking and sucking at the hollow under her jaw.

Lacey’s breath was already a quick pant as he grasped the opening at the top of her shirt. He yanked down savagely, the sound of tearing fabric rending the quiet of the hallway, buttons snapping, arcing through the air, clattering to the floor to spin wildly upon the tile. Ripe breasts heaved, the nipples dark bullets, as he tore the ruined shirt from each of her shoulders in turn.

Pulling her close, he took her mouth with his, tasting her excitement, her uncertainty, her anxiousness at what he might do to her next. Stealing her breath from her, he sucked upon her lips, her tongue, nipping her with his teeth until she moaned.

She jerked as he clamped her breast in a strong grip, her long, wavering sigh accompanying his lips closing around one of her hard nipples. He drew upon it furiously, biting, tasting, claiming, pulling its twin to his mouth, subjecting it to the same savage attentions. He looked up at her as he laved each tortured bud with the broadness of his tongue, watched the way her swollen, red lips formed into a silent O as he sucked the hard tips deeply into his mouth once more.

The words were whispered against her flesh, as he worried her reddened nipples with the edges of his teeth. “You do exactly as you’re told, Lacey girl. You speak only when spoken to. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice little more than a squeak.

It was time.

Dragging her by the hair, she stumbled down the hallway after him. He pulled her into the living room, making her stand before him as he sat upon the couch. Her generous breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breathing, the stone hard nipples bright with his saliva, well-reddened from the attentions of his lips and teeth. He met her frightened eyes. “Take ‘em down.”

Her trembling fingers hooked into the thin gray fabric, exposing her plump mound, the thick, dark curls he’d allowed her. He grasped her wrist when the yoga pants bunched at her knees. “That’s enough. Hands on your head.”

Her perfect white teeth nibbled her wet, red lip as she waited, as he took in the pleasing sight of her naked sex displayed between pale, quaking thighs.

“You know what today is?”

Her pretty brows knitting together, she nodded.

“Say it.”

“Maintenance… sir.”

“More specific. You know what’s expected of you. What is the focus of today’s maintenance? What part of you is going to be punished until those beautiful tears are streaming down your cheeks?”

Her face went pale. “M-my pussy.”

Reaching out, slapping her mound, making her yelp. She wisely held position though. “Is that the correct term? Say the word, Lacey.”

“My… cunt.”

“Louder.”

“My cunt!” Color burst high in her cheeks as he grinned at her.

“That’s right.” He stroked her there, circling the already engorged clit, caressing the soft wetness of her slit. “It’s already dripping, even though I intend to hurt it today. What does that say about you?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Her frantic eyes searched his, the confusion he saw there making his cock ache.

“Oh, I think we both know, don’t we? You fear the pain — but part of you likes it.” He grasped her pussy, squeezing it firmly. “This likes it very much indeed.”

She shook her head, but kept her hands submerged in her hair, her pretty little biceps twitching. He slipped two fingers inside her, and she took her lip between her teeth.

“No? We’ll see about that, Lacey girl. Your dripping, swollen cunt always tells the truth.”

He stared at the sweet, vulnerable sex, the way the dark pubic hair lay flat over the curve of her mound, the spicy scent of her arousal already strong. It would be much stronger before he finished with her.

Taking hold of one smooth hip, he slapped his fingers against the soft, wet lips, making her yelp. “Legs wider — as far as you can.”

The gray yoga pants, the white lace thong bunched within it, spanned her knees tightly, allowing him a little more room to work.

He commenced smacking her pussy methodically, Lacey whimpering now and then as he caught her with a particularly harsh blow. He made sure to snap the ends of his fingers against those vulnerable lips, that hardened, swollen clit still hiding beneath its hood.

Satisfied with a slit already flushing pink, the lips even more swollen, he slicked back that hood, exposing her erect, prominent clitoris to the cool air. He plunged two fingers up into her, sinking them in until her weight tried to raise up on his knuckles. He worked them in and out, faster and faster, until her hips began to rotate, her eyes rolling back.

Then he pulled them free, wiping her stickiness across her thigh.

She was breathing frantically as he leaned close, her eyes watching him intently. He smiled up at her before pushing his tongue deep between her blazing labia, tasting her slightly salty, fragrant heat, his nose rasping upon her pubic hair. Licking up and down the length of her, he sampled every inch of her sex, thrusting his tongue repeatedly, driving as deep as he could, until her moans were continuous.

Then he stopped again.

“Oh God, please…”

“You want to come, don’t you, slut?” He tightened his grip on her.

“Yes, sir.”

“And am I going to let you come? Hmm?” He flicked her hood, and her hips jerked.

“N-no, sir.”

“That’s right, I’m not.”

Her head drooped.

“Eyes up!” He slapped her hip several times until she obeyed, her eyes looking straight ahead, her tears already threatening. “Good girl.”

He drew the clamps from his pocket, trying to ignore the steel bar of pure need tenting the front of his slacks. The clamps were quite small, with black rubber tips, but they were perfect for what he had in mind. Taking hold of one of her soft outer labia, he pulled at it gently, luxuriating in the feel of her vulnerability, at the way her body shuddered once she saw the clamps in his palm. She hissed as he affixed the first one, the labia stretched slightly by the weight of the steel, the pinch making her breathing come even faster.

A tight whimper slipped from her lips as he clamped the other side, her sex now held quite open.

“Oh no,” she yelped as he slicked back her hood, a third, smaller clip between finger and thumb. He circled the sweet, swollen bud with his fingertips, working her faster and faster, until she was gasping, her hips bucking and writhing against his hand.

“Breathe out now.”

As she exhaled, he fitted the implement to the base of her clit, the congested bead now an angry red as it bulged under the stricture. He pulled gently on the silver chain linking the two clamps affixed to the tender lips of her sex. “Be a very good girl, and you won’t have to wear these long.” He slapped her ass. “In the corner.”

He savored the way the chain swung between her thighs, her mincing gait testifying to the tightness of the nasty little clamps, the yoga pants, still stretched around her knees, making her take small steps as she took her place.

“Hands on the wall. Higher. Hollow your back and present that pussy properly. More! I want to see those clamps.”

Palms spread on the painted surface above her, she stayed very still, her panted breaths betraying the arduousness of both the clamps and the position.

Unable to restrain himself enough to watch her from the couch, he paced behind her, his cock angrily throbbing, fingering the clamps now and then to the accompaniment of her frantic yelps. He smiled at the way the chain gently swayed between her lush thighs, her round bottom cheeks twitching above.

He could stand the wait no longer though, taking hold of her upper arm. “Hands on your head.”

Dragging her along with him once more, he took her into his office, pressing her over his desk until her full breasts pillowed below her, smooth pale curves blooming out to each side of her heaving rib cage. He stroked her back for a while, his fingertips playing through the sweat gathering in the trough of her spine. Cooing at her, he whispered admonishments to breathe, to calm, to be his good girl.

Crouching down behind her, he pulled her pants down the rest of the way, helping her out of them. Plucking the cute little thong out of the tangle of clothing on the floor, he dropped into his chair behind her. He loved the way she stayed so quiet and still for him.

Her obedience only encouraged him to be rougher with her.

It was something he didn’t quite understand, but it was a phenomenon that both of them had come to accept.

Unzipping his fly, he groaned as he pulled his tortured cock from his slacks. He worked the humid slip of lace over the head of his penis, masturbating with it as he looked upon her soft, round buttocks quivering before him as they awaited whatever torments he still had planned.

“You’re my good girl, Lacey.” He continued stroking as he spoke to her. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was muffled, his bewitching wife hiding her face in her folded arms upon the desk.

“Does your pussy hurt?”

“Yes… sir.”

“Good, good. It’s supposed to, sweet girl.”

She shuddered as he used the tip of a finger to set the chain to swinging again, his fist drawing the lace up and down the length of his shaft. Soon, the thong was sticky with his precome, and he was sorely tempted to spray his seed all over them.

Time enough for that another day.

He slipped them into his pocket, his veined erection, red and angry, bobbing in his lap.

“Do you want those nasty clamps off?” He leaned forward in his chair, blowing air over her inflamed pussy, making Lacey shiver.

“Yes, sir. Please.”

“Do you think you’ve been obedient enough?”

“Yes, sir…”

Making her wait a long moment, he smiled at the way she seemed to hang upon his verdict, her body still, muscles taut.

“I agree, Lacey.”

The sound of her soft sigh made his cock jerk.

He patted her bottom, taking hold of the first clamp affixed to one of her lips. “This isn’t going to feel good. Ready?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Her voice was anxious, tight.

Slipping the clamp off, he caressed her ass as she groaned loudly. “Breathe through it, girl. Breathe…”

“Now, the next one. Here it comes.”

She gasped, her bottom cheeks squeezing tight as she dealt with the pain.

“Almost over now.” As he grasped the tiny implement squeezing her clit, he could hear her labored breaths suddenly catch. “This is the worst one. Be brave, now.”

Pulling the clip off, he stroked her sex as she squealed, his touch helping to rub the blood back into her sensitive tissues. She swallowed down a sob, her fingernails digging into the skin of her forearms.

“Oh, fuckkkk,” she whispered, desperation in her voice.

He let her calm down a bit, the shuddering of her body subsiding to a subtle quiver, all the while caressing her inflamed pussy, his fingers soaked with her juices despite the pain of having the clamps removed.

Taking firm hold of her ponytail again, he brought her to her feet once more. He turned her around, cupping her chin and kissing her hard. He stared down into her tear-bright eyes, then pressed his lips softly to her forehead. “Never more than you can handle, sweet girl. But we’re not done.”

He gazed at her, raising an eyebrow in question. She’d never actually spoken the word, the only thing that would stay his hand, short circuit the dark, sadistic ritual her maintenance sessions had evolved into.

But as always, she seemed to rise to the challenge, as if yielding in that way would somehow be a failing. They’d had long talks about it before, and he’d made it clear such a thing was anything but a weakness.

Still, to this day, the word had never passed her lips, no matter the torments he’d put her through — and still had planned for her yet.

My sweet, yielding Lacey.

“Yes, sir.” Her throat worked as she peered up at him. “I… I will obey.”

He brushed her temple with his lips, his cock feeling as if it might explode at the sound of the tremble in her voice. “Up on the desk then. Knees wide.”

Helping her up, she sat facing him, her blush blooming on her pretty face as he pulled her hips to the edge, tucking her heels against her bottom cheeks and pressing her legs still further apart. She looked away, her cheeks scarlet as he dropped his gaze to her presented pussy, the lips red, swollen. Her clit was so engorged he swore he could see it pulsing, the tip pushing out from under the protective hood, the flesh there inflamed. He touched that mouthwatering morsel and she jumped.

“Hurting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s do something about that, shall we?”

Reaching into one of his drawers, he kept his gaze locked with hers.

Lacey’s beautiful eyes went wide when he held up the thin leather strap.

“Oh, please, Tr—”

He shook his head slowly, glaring at her. “Unless you’re saying it, there’s nothing you can do about it. Now, be a good girl for me.”

She swallowed hard, her face paling. Then she closed her eyes, and gave him a tiny nod.

Made for a very specific sort of discipline, the strap was almost velvet soft, and supremely flexible. Perfect for the torment he had in mind for his gorgeous wife.

Moving to her side, tucking one of her knees under his arm to hold her in place — and open to his ministrations — he touched her hard little clit again, rubbing it in gentle circles. Though he knew it was sore, he could also see the telltale letdown of the thick, clear fluids from her slit, her wetness slickening her perineum until it glistened bright. Once he had her hips beginning to buck, he brought the strap down crisply against her inner thigh, close to her sex.

Her eyes flew open, then she squeezed them shut with a gasp. He said nothing, continuing to rub her sore clit, as he brought the strap down against her other thigh with a crisp crack.

She gritted her teeth as he treated both thighs to two more viper quick strikes apiece. He glided a palm over the splotchy crimson marks left behind upon her tender flesh.

Her breathing was devolving into almost continuous pained moans as he took up a steady, targeted strapping of the alabaster flesh of her inner thighs. His fingers swirled over her clit, and her head fell back, only to snap right up again with a tight scream as he cracked the leather directly over his fingers, the tip snapping down against the lower half of her slit. Back and forth he strapped her thighs, then pulled his hand away from her clit only to have the soft strap slap down directly upon her pussy. He alternated this way, wringing hoarse cries from her at each blow. Putting his fingers back to rubbing the well-strapped clit, he worked her thighs until they were a congested bright red, Lacey’s lips babbling incoherent pleas, her head thrashing from side to side.

“A couple more, bad girl,” he said, gently squeezing her impossibly swollen clit. She keened.

A harsh blow followed, leaving a livid line of deep pink across her left thigh, and she shrieked, her eyes finally brimming over, a fat glistening tear slipping down her flushed cheek

He kissed it, whispering against her skin, lust, and possession, swelling within him. “Last one.”

With the loudest strike yet, the leather branded the opposite thigh with a deep crimson bar of hurt, Lacey’s face awash in tears as she cried out, her voice breaking.

“Oh pleaseohpleaseohplease!”

“Shhh, your strapping’s over, girl. All over. All over now…”

Dropping the leather onto the desk, he gently stroked the heat of her punished thighs, not for one second relenting on working her clit the entire time. He knew the storm of contradictory sensation was a torment all in itself, but he was determined to bring her through it, regardless. When she had her hips bucking wantonly, despite the fact she was openly weeping, he relented, and she blew out a long, strained breath, sagging back upon the desk.

He eased her off, holding her against him as she wobbled on unsteady legs. Taking hold of a fistful of her hair, he turned her face up to his, and he tasted her lips, savoring the salty evidence of her surrender, reveling in his mastery of her all over again. He knew he was a sadistic prick for enjoying this so much, but in Lacey he’d found the other half that made the two of them whole, the woman who was the key to opening up something special and terrible between them, something that none other needed to know about.

But what if that’s not enough for her?

The thought sprang unbidden into his mind, and he dismissed it. There would be a time, but now wasn’t it.

He tipped her chin up, and her brimming eyes peered at him through tear-soaked lashes, a sight so beautiful he simply looked on in awed lust for a moment. She never looked more beautiful than that sweet moment when he’d compelled her surrender, when she’d allowed him to make of her what he willed.

And took them both to a world of dark dreams.

“I want you, Lace.” He kissed her savagely again, his tongue plundering her mouth, taking, owning. He clasped her around the throat and she went very still, her bright, liquid eyes going wide, the pupils dilating. “I need you. And I will have you.”

Incredibly, she flashed a small tentative smile, another tear spilling over, and splashing down her cheek. It was all he needed.

Using her hair like a rein, he spun her around, his weight pinning her thighs to the front of the desk, bending her tightly over it. He drove into her fiery wetness, making her gasp. Twisting his fist in her hair, he cranked her head back, forcing her body into an arch, already thrusting hard.

In moments, he was pounding into her, the head of his cock knocking upon the entrance to her womb, something he knew was both heaven and hell for his Lacey. She let out a strangled yelp as he let go of her hair, switching to grip her throat, her sex squeezing him even tighter as he rocked her body against the stout desk, taking her brutally hard now.

With a last flurry of desk-creaking slams of his hips against hers, he came, groaning out his tortured release, hot seed flooding into her, stars winking behind his eyes, his head swimming. He pulled out the greedy clench of her sex drawing one last spurt from him, painting a thick, viscous line of seed across the reddened, well-punished slit. He used the head of his cock to rub the semen into her, coating her mound, until her pubic hair glistened with it.

For long seconds, he drew in great gusts of breath, his hands planted on either side of her prostrate form, his dangling, half-erect cock leaving a trail of wetness upon the curve of her ass.

Pulling her up from the desk, he folded her into his arms then, her entire body quivering. She buried her face against his chest, her tears soaking the fabric of his dress shirt to his skin. He stroked her back for a long while, just holding her, murmuring to her, until she calmed.

Finally, he smoothed her hair off her tear-streaked cheek. “I think we need a bath.”