Chapter 16
She gazed up the bed at the knot of rope around the crossbar of their headboard. He rarely used ropes, preferring to discipline her while she was unbound, forcing her to comply with her punishment by staying still.
The rope groaned and creaked as she pulled at it. He hadn’t left so much as an inch of movement, her arms extended before her along the bedspread. Her hips, as usual, were canted high up in the air, her naked body laid bare across a mountain of pillows.
A heavier, longer section of rope ensured her feet, the thick cuffs at her ankles bound tightly together, were bound just as securely.
She felt like nothing more than a human sacrifice, helpless against what was to come. It shouldn’t have excited her, but the evidence of the effect on her was already wetting the pillows below her seething pussy.
He watched her from somewhere behind her. Her husband enjoyed staying out of her line of sight, the long wait for the fall of the rattan made even longer by the fact she couldn’t see what he was doing.
Imagination was a torment all its own.
“This is your fifth session, Lacey-girl. Can you recite to me what you’re in for today?”
It was a cold, rainy November evening, the gloomy late autumn night made more so by what she knew she had to look forward to. The cane hurt so much!
Yet it was the one implement that made her hot and wet just at the sight of it. The love-hate dynamic she had with it had only deepened with time, with each successive appointment with it.
And Troy, for his part, had seemed to grow even more fond of it as time went on. Much to her chagrin.
“Today is… the cane. Sir.”
He palmed each of her buttocks in turn, squeezing, kneading, shaking each one individually, as if to limber it up for what was to come.
“And what do I expect of you while you’re caned, bad girl?”
“I’m to count each stroke.”
“And?”
What do you mean, and!
“Lacey, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your comportment while under discipline? Maybe I haven’t been whipping this sweet ass of yours often enough.”
“Soft! I’m to stay… soft. Keep my bottom soft.”
“For?”
“For your cane, sir.”
The words made heat flood up her neck. Her position thankfully allowed her to hide her blushing face.
“That’s right! Good girl.” He gripped one of her buttocks hard, right under the softest undercurve. “I’ve decided you’ll have twenty-four.”
“Troy!”
“We can add a gag, if you like.”
She shivered. “No… sir. I’m sorry.”
“No, but you will be.”
The rattan, cold and deadly, stroked across her bottom, gooseflesh breaking out under its touch.
“Ready?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered.
“Then say it.”
“What?”
This was a new humiliation for her. Troy was always looking for new twists, novel ways to deepen her subjugation to him during maintenance sessions. He always wanted more… and if her seething pussy was anything to judge by, she always wanted him to take more.
You’re hopeless.
“Tell me that you’re ready. That you want me to punish you.”
“Oh, Troy, please…”
He simply waited, and she knew if she resisted much more, he’d make this even more unbearable.
“I’m ready. P-please punish me.”
THWIP
The sound was one that filled her with dread, just a split second before it filled her ass with fire.
“One!”
“Good girl.”
A tap of the rattan just a breath below the swelling weal.
She gasped as it struck, the pain melding with the previous mark, the throbbing even worse.
Her breath came in great gusts as she waited for the third stroke. She couldn’t believe it already hurt this badly.
THWIP
“Ah, Christ…”
“I wasn’t aware he was a number. Forget something?”
Fuck!
“Three, sir!”
“And you forgot to count the one before that, didn’t you? That one won’t count. So, which number was the one you just had?”
“Two, sir,” she said, miserably.
“Be strong, dear. These will be tight.”
She called out the next six strokes, her voice rising an octave with each meeting of vulnerable flesh to merciless rod. On the last, she cried out, sweat beginning to break out on her back at the hollow of her throat.
His rough hand tested the marks, squeezing, rubbing, a thumb and forefinger pinching deep at the base of one cheek, shaking it to and fro to encourage her to relax the muscle.
“You’re tightening up.”
“Sorry, sir.” Her bottom was a solid mass of fire now as the cane pressed to the join of buttock and thigh. He laid six more strokes in that most sensitive of spots, making her scream at each one. He waited a full thirty seconds between each one. She knew he believed in the miscreant feeling the full effect of each stroke.
“Halfway there, dear.”
He stroked a hand from her wealed backside, up her back to the nape of her neck, squeezing proprietorially there as he bent over her from the side of the bed. “Bottom hurting?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice cracked horribly, her eyes threatening to overflow with tears.
Only halfway?
“I need a little relief too.” He stood, letting her see him as he pulled his black t-shirt off, the muscles of his torso flexing and rippling as he did. The warm light in the room highlighted the pale constellation of scars along his side as he threw the shirt onto the bed. He undid the button fly of his jeans, retrieving an already very hard cock.
“Look what you’ve done to me, Lacey,” he said, his voice a pleased rumble above her. His veined, strong hand took that glorious penis in hand, and he stepped closer, waving the angry broad head before her.
“Kiss it.”
He kept it away just enough to force her to strain to reach it, grinning down at her as she bestowed the lightest of feather touches of her well-bitten lips to the weeping slit at the tip of his cock.
“You’re a good girl.”
“Yes, sir,” she said into her arm, blushing at how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth, a blessed distraction from the agony of her ass, her servicing of his tool degrading or not.
He disappeared behind her.
“I wonder…”
Fingers investigated between her sodden labia, tickling her clit, then thrusting inside. She sighed as he thrust once, twice — adding a second finger, and pushing still deeper.
“Just as I thought.” He patted her stinging bottom. “Quite the hot little whore I’ve got here stretched across my bed tonight.”
She whimpered against the bedspread.
“Lucky me.”
Her breath caught as the heavy head pushed aside her flesh, driving deep immediately. He sank into her until he was pressed hard to her cervix, his fingers idly playing with her fiery weals as he took up a lazy, unhurried movement within her.
“Oh… please, sir.”
He pulled his penis from her just as she began to squeeze down upon him.
“We’re not done yet. This pussy — no matter how wet and hot it is — isn’t going to save you from the rest of your punishment, slut.”
She tensed as the slim rattan touched her already well-wealed ass. The tram lines burned and ached, her fingertips numb from feverishly gripping the bedspread.
Tap-tap-tap.
“Stay very still.”
Tap.
“Loosen them, girl.”
“I’m trying, sir!”
The cane whistled in, a half stroke that still singed her flesh, making her grit her teeth. It wouldn’t count, but it still hurt.
“Try harder.”
“Come on, Lace. Relax them!
By the time she’d received her second half of hellish strokes, she’d lost count of the number of extras she’d earned from clenching her buttocks, He was a complete tyrant about clenching. His belief — one borne out by her own bitter, agonizing experience — was that it was far more painful, the strokes imparting far more of a lesson on soft, relaxed bottom cheeks. At the end, her voice was hoarse from screaming out the final count of twenty-four, tears freely flowing down her cheeks, her lips sore, bitten hard.
“Now, I want you to stay very quiet for me, bad girl. Lay nice and still and obedient.”
His cock probed her cleft, then nosed into her slit, sliding deep on her long, lost moan.
She bit into her arm as the bed began to creak under the long, deep thrusts, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh rising with each increasingly eager plunge.
“I’d like to keep you like this all the time,” he growled behind her, slapping her ass occasionally as he moved within her dripping sex. “Naked, bound, helpless. I’d only stop to feed you. Bathe you. Use you. Then you’d be back here, crying, weeping under the cane. You’ve never looked more beautiful, Lacey girl, than you do with my marks on this big round bottom. Crying your tears for me. Your cunt dripping for me.”
“Oh fuck,” she moaned, her body rocking below him, his thrusts threatening to press the breath from her body. “Please, sir! I need… I need to come. Please!”
His fingers slipped down to find her clit, and he frictioned it furiously. She knew he wanted to make it hurt, both of them knowing that hurt would only make her orgasm that much stronger.
She screamed her way over the edge within seconds, Troy’s heavy, brutal thrusts driving her into the bed, her pained cries and breathless gasps melding together, the incredible, mind-shattering pleasure becoming entwined, confused with the burning, pulsing agony of the welts lacing her punished buttocks.
He tensed against her, the grip of his hands around her waist growing fierce, the loud slaps of his hips against her buttocks almost deafening. His groaning growl ripped from deep in his chest as he came.
But rather than pour himself deep inside her as she wanted far more than she wanted to admit, he pulled from the grip of her pussy, searing jets of come sluicing over her punished bottom cheeks. He came, and came and came, and at the end, it felt as if every inch of her sore, wealed buttocks were covered in his viscous seed.
“You need this rubbed in, slut.” His voice had a raw, almost primitive rasp, the unbridled male animal in full control as he used his still hard cock to spread the seed over her weals, making her hiss, even as it made her pussy squeeze tight. He spanked her bottom several times, beating his semen into her skin as if he wished to tattoo her with his essence.
She was half delirious with the pain when she felt his fingers at her ankles, freeing them in moments.
“It’s okay, girl. Okay, now,” he said, his palm caressing her tear-flooded cheeks as he worked her hands free from the ropes. “My beautiful, brave girl. It’s all over now. I have you. Shh, it’s done, Lacey.”
He laid upon the bed, pulling her down off the pillows, even the movement of the air like fire across her beaten bottom. She wrapped her arms about him, closing her eyes as she found that sweetest of shelter in the arc of his powerful, muscular, masculinity.
Her husband wrapped his body about hers, tucking her inside the strength of his arms. His lips pressed soft, slow kisses to her tears, his soothing words helping to bring her back to Earth, his loving touch bringing her a peace, a stillness she only experienced after the stormy waters of discipline had forced her surrender to their irresistible power.
Now, there was only a man and a woman. She and Troy.
And a dark bond was renewed, stronger at that moment than it had ever been before.