Putting agents and action movies firmly out of his head, he refocused on the beautiful, naked woman he’d positioned over the punishment pony. He’d ordered a sawhorse from the home improvement warehouse, and then modified it so the thin edge of the central two-by-four plank was facing upward, perfect for fitting snuggly between labia. He’d carefully sanded and smoothed the wood to prevent splinters, though the beam retained its sharp angles, the edges perfect to punish that luscious cunt of hers.
She’d only been balanced over the beam for ten minutes, and he suspected those muscular, yoga-toned calves of hers would keep her on her toes a while longer. Her head was turned toward the ocean, her face a study of serene concentration.
He’d thought about exacting the punishment on the sand, but since he wasn’t exactly sure how long she’d hold on, he’d set up the sawhorse beneath the veranda awning to protect her from the sun. He sat about ten feet away, angled so he could watch both her and the ocean at the same time as he sipped his limeade and idly stroked his cock.
Turning the cell phone off, he stood and moved toward Hailey. He stopped in front of her. “How’re you doing?” He cupped her cheek with his palm. Her skin was smooth and warm.
She offered a tremulous smile. “My legs are getting tired, Sir, but I’m okay.”
“You understand the nature of this punishment, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Explain it to me.”
She swallowed and shifted slightly, still managing to hold herself above the narrow plank between her legs. “It’s called predicament bondage, Sir. A matter of me choosing one erotic discomfort over the other. The task becomes increasingly difficult as my muscles begin to fatigue. As long as I can stay on my toes, I won’t have to rest my body against the sharp edges of the wood. I control what happens.”
Ronan withdrew his hand. “I control what happens, slave Hailey. At all times. What you will experience is a matter of cause and effect. Do you understand the difference?”
She paused a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He moved closer and slipped his fingers into the space between the wood and her cunt. He ran the tip of one finger along the edges of her outer labia. A small but discernable tremor moved through her frame, and her nipples hardened. Was it purely a physiological response to his touch, or was she responding specifically to him? Did it matter?
He pushed aside the questions and slid his finger gently into the tight opening at her center. She was wet, and the muscles of her cunt gripped his finger in a pleasing way. Her eyes opened slightly and her pupils dilated. Ronan’s cock throbbed. He leaned closer. “You,” he said in a low voice made hoarse by his lust, “are a greedy slut girl.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, a wash of color moving over her face and throat. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
His finger still inside her, he laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no need to apologize. I like it. The thing is”—he withdrew his finger and brought it to his nose. He inhaled her delicate, spicy perfume—”you need to learn better control of your body. I love that you’re responsive, but for some reason, despite all that fabulous training you had at The Compound, you don’t seem to be able to control your impulses or your reactions all that well. In the two days you’ve been here, you’ve stolen two orgasms—one at your own hand, one on my cock, both times in direct contradiction to my dictates.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said faintly, tears suddenly welling in her dark blue eyes. Ronan felt almost guilty for making her cry, but he also understood her remorse was genuine, born out of a sincere desire to submit and obey. He owed it to her to punish her when it was called for. To do less would be to shirk his responsibility as her Master.
He stepped back and took a slow walk around the sawhorse. Her hands looked good—no circulation issues from the rope binding her arms and wrists. The butt plug protruded slightly between her ass cheeks, the edge of it pressed against the wood, though so far she was still managing to avoid direct contact to her labia. Her leg muscles were trembling ever so slightly from the strain of her position. It was only a matter of time before she was forced to lower herself to the wood.
“Permission to speak, Sir?”
“Yes.”
“How long will I be on the horse, Sir?”
He’d worked with easily a dozen submissives while training at The Exchange, but even at its most intense, it had remained somehow academic—an exercise. At the end of it, he would shower, pack up and leave, shedding his Master persona along with the used towels as he left the club.
But this was different. This girl was the real thing, and she was his.
The realization was breathtaking.
“As long as it takes, slave girl. As long as it takes.”
~*~
The sky was robin’s egg blue and a cool sea breeze was gently blowing, but Hailey could feel the sweat trickling down her sides and gathering at the small of her back as her legs muscles strained. She’d already felt the bite of the wood as Master Ronan had adjusted the sawhorse just so beneath her when he’d first instructed her to climb over the horse. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time before she was forced to lower herself onto its hard, biting embrace. She tried to use her hands to lean back against the beam with her palms, and thus relieve some of the pressure in her calves, but with the way her arms were bound, she was unable to do it without fear of losing her balance altogether.
I’ll lower myself for just a little while, she told herself, her legs now shaking with fatigue. I’ll rest my legs and then lift up again if it gets to be too much. He can’t leave me on here forever.
She glanced toward Ronan. He was watching her with the stillness of a beast of prey waiting to pounce. She slid her eyes from him, determined to handle her punishment without complaint. He was right—she lacked self-control, at least where he was concerned. She lacked discipline in this new environment. Though she’d thrilled to the training at The Compound, feeling, in a way, she’d come home for the first time in her life, it was the experience itself that had moved her, not the men who trained her.
Yet with Ronan—Master Ronan—it was different. It was real.
She lowered herself on wobbly legs until her feet were flat on the smooth flagstone. The relief was immediate in her calf muscles, but then she felt the intense pressure at her cunt, the sharp-edged beam digging deep between her inner labia and pinning her clit painfully between her pubic bone and the wood.
She tried rotating her hips back to shift the pressure from her cunt to her ass. The sudden thrust of the anal plug reminded her sharply of its presence. She gasped and jerked reflexively, nearly losing her balance on the beam. Her efforts to right herself were hampered by her bound arms behind her back. She shifted and wriggled without a shred of grace, the wood like a wedge of iron spreading her pussy lips wide as it drove into her cunt with unrelenting pressure.
Though her calf muscles still ached, she lifted herself once more to her toes, sighing with relief as the hard wood fell away from her tortured sex. She glanced again toward Ronan. He was naked, his large, erect cock fisted in his hand, his eyes hooded as he regarded her. Her predicament—her suffering—was exciting him. This wasn’t merely a punishment for her, but a pleasure for him.
In another sort of person, one who wasn’t hardwired for erotic pain and submission as Hailey was, this might have been an affront, an abuse. But for Hailey, it sent a pure jolt of deep, intense pleasure through her psyche. The realization that her erotic suffering excited him made it that much easier to bear, and made her all the more determined to endure her punishment with grace and courage.
This time her legs fatigued more quickly, and she was forced to lower herself once more into the hard, unyielding wood. She was so aroused at the sight of her Master stroking his shaft as he regarded her that the pain transmuted into pleasure. She rocked herself gently against the wood, letting it massage her swollen, distended clit. It felt good, the pain and the pleasure doing a lovely dance along her
nerve endings.
All at once she realized what she was doing and she felt the heat flood her face. She was masturbating against the wood—engaging in precisely the behavior that had got her on this punishment pony in the first place. Chagrined, she rocked back to her ass, almost welcoming the sharp pain as the anal plug burrowed deeper inside her.
After a moment, she lifted herself to her toes, ignoring the cramp in her right calf. She glanced again at Ronan, praying he hadn’t been aware of what she’d been doing.
He had risen to his feet and by the expression on his face, she understood he’d known exactly what she was doing. Her heart leaped into her throat. Was he angry?
He reached into a small duffel that sat on the table beside him and pulled something out. He walked toward her and stopped in front of the sawhorse. “I think,” he said, holding up a pair of clover clamps, “you need some help with your focus. This is a punishment, not a pleasure ride, slut Hailey.”
“Oh god,” Hailey burst out in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“No,” Master Ronan interrupted in a hard voice. “You do not have permission to speak.”
She pressed her lips together and blinked back tears.
Ronan reached for her left nipple. He tugged it between thumb and forefinger until it was hard and fat in his grip. Pulling it taut, he opened one end of the clover clamps and positioned the grips on either side of her nipple. He released, and the pain was sharp and immediate.
Hailey kept her lips closed, drawing in a quick breath through her nostrils as she worked through the pain.
He did the same to the second nipple and this time a small moan of pain worked its way past her lips, though she managed to remain balanced on her toes. He lifted the chain between the clamps and touched the center links to her mouth. “Bite on it. Don’t let it fall.”
She took the chain between her teeth, the resulting increased tension adding to the intense pressure at her nipples. The initial sharp pinch had already subsided to a dull throb, and it wouldn’t be long before her nipples numbed to something she could tolerate for an extended period—until the clamps were removed.
She focused once more on the sea, watching the waves tumble and roll like dolphins, glinting in silver and gold at the crests. Serenity. Peace. Submission. Grace. Serenity. Peace. Submission. Grace. Serenity. Peace. Submission. Grace. She could still feel the pain at her nipples and the intense pressure of the wood on which she had impaled herself, but instead of denying them, she reached inside her mind for them, and gathered them close to her heart. I accept and embrace the pain. It is a part of me. My Master wishes this for me. It serves him and it serves me.
The rapid tattoo of her heart slowly eased, her breathing slowing along with it. She could do this. She would suffer with grace and acceptance. It wasn’t only her duty or her just dessert—it was her calling.
Then her calf cramped with the sudden viciousness of shark jaws slamming shut on their prey. Her feet hit the ground, causing her to thump down hard against the beam with all her weight. The wood jammed up between her labia and pinched them against her thighs. Miraculously, she managed to keep the clamp chain clenched in her teeth, though she couldn’t stop the low, feral moan of agony.
She rocked back to ease the pressure, and felt the thrusting reproach of the anal plug inside her. She bit harder on the chain and lifted her chin, welcoming the distraction of the pressure at her breasts as she tried to shift into a less compromising position on the sawhorse. She attempted to rise again to her toes, but her muscles revolted, this time both calves cramping in refusal.
She sagged against the sawhorse, her entire body weight focused at her cunt, which pulsed with a burning sensation that left little room for arousal. To make matters worse, she realized her bladder was full. She tried leaning forward to ease the pressure, and nearly toppled over, her equilibrium off from the ropes binding her arms.
The wood was wedged hard against her clit. Each shift of her body only resulted in a different set of nerve endings firing in agony and pain. Cause and effect—her choice which body part to torture for how long in this ordeal of endurance—but Master Ronan was the one in control.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Snot was running down her face as well, sliding in an annoying ooze over her lips and chin, along with drool from her partially open mouth, the chain still clenched in her teeth. She stole another glance at her tormentor. He was watching her with hooded eyes, his expression inscrutable. He was seated at the table again, his body facing hers, his big, hard cock still fisted in his hand.
His eyes fixed on her, he began to move his hand slowly up and down his shaft, the movement incredibly erotic—or it would have been, if she hadn’t been fighting to keep from screaming.
Her labia had numbed, but the pressure on her bladder was nearly intolerable. Hoping her legs muscles were sufficiently recovered, she lifted herself once more on her toes. A sudden stream of hot urine soaked the wood, splashing her legs as it puddled on the stone between her feet.
Hailey’s mouth fell open with dismay as she realized what was happening, and the chain fell from her mouth. Ronan rose once more and headed toward her, his cock fat and red, his pleasure interrupted. Hailey was too mortified to protest, to explain, to do anything at all but gape at him as he approached.
He looked down at the pool of urine beneath the sawhorse. “My fault,” he said. “I should have made you pee before you got on the horse.” He shrugged.
“No big deal. You can wash in the ocean once we’re finished.”
She waited, grateful for his calm assessment, desperate for him to let her down. He reached for her breasts, cupping each one in a hand, lifting them and letting them fall. “Look into my eyes,” he commanded. “Keep your eyes open and focused on me.”
He reached with both hands for the nipple clamps. A jab of fear stabbed Hailey’s innards. “Focus on me,” Master Ronan repeated, his voice like iron wrapped in silk. All at once, he released the clamps. The blood rushed into her nipples, bringing with it the searing pain of tortured nerve endings reawakened with a vengeance. Hailey felt faint from the pain, and her eyelids desperately wanted to flutter shut. She willed them to remain open, her focus on her Master’s steady, calming gaze.
Mercifully, the pain quickly eased from poker hot needles to a steady, dull throb. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and drew another in its place. Master Ronan stroked her tender, aching nipples with feather-soft fingers. He cupped her breasts once more and then leaned down, taking one nipple tenderly between his lips.
Hailey leaned toward him as much as she could in her awkward, tethered position. If she could have melted away the rope and reduced the sawhorse to sawdust with a glance, she would have done so. She longed to reach for him, to pull him into her arms, to kiss his mouth, to somehow make him fall in love with her.
Instead she stood balanced on the beam, arms tightly bound behind her, all her weight painfully focused on the fulcrum of her impaled cunt. Master Ronan stepped back, removing the wet, sweet solace of his mouth from her breast. Hailey barely managed to bite back her sigh.
“Permission to speak?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Yes.”
“Please, Sir. Can I get down? Is the punishment over?”
His countenance darkened and Hailey wished she could stuff the question back into her mouth. “It is not a slave’s place to question her Master in this manner. You know better than that. I’m disappointed in you.”
His words were like a slap in the face, and Hailey looked quickly down, tears of shame momentarily blinding her.
“You will remain on the horse until it pleases me to let you down,” Master Ronan said, his voice hard. “Until I see you stop resisting. Until you embrace and welcome the pain you deserve. I will decide when it is over. I am the Master, sweetheart,” he added, his voice suddenly gentle. She looked up to see he was smiling and her heart tugged with a sweet pain. “Or had you forgotten?”
It was as if a brake had pressed down on her pulse, slowing it, giving each beat a richer thud. His words, instead of sending her into a panic, had quite the opposite effect. They recalled her to herself. They made her realize she had been resisting the whole process every step of the way, biting, kicking and clawing her way through it. His words reminded her this punishment was not only punitive, but designed to teach. It was about growth, acceptance, and letting go.
“Forgive me, Sir. I forget myself. Thank you, Sir.”
As Master Ronan stepped away, Hailey focused on her task with renewed resolve. She rocked forward and back on the unyielding wood, letting it wedge even more deeply between her labia and press like a fist against the anal plug. She no longer fought the pain or the pressure. She welcomed it with open arms. She let the pain grow until it was all there was, until it clawed through her cunt and ass and pawed deep in her belly like some kind of dark, snorting beast.
Through an act of sheer will, she hoisted herself onto the back of the beast, riding and twisting it until the alchemist in her somehow transformed the pain into pure, white-hot sensation. She could hear the ocean’s waves crashing and receding in a steady percussive beat, the melody of her own soft moans and ragged breathing intertwining with the water’s song.
With a last glance at her handsome Master, Hailey rode the galloping beast of erotic pain into the blinding silver light of the beckoning water. Together they sprinted away across the waves.
~*~
Watching the transformation in Hailey was like watching the sunrise over the water—first the shimmering promise of pink and palest gold as it struggled to break free of its confines, and then, all at once, the yellow orb bursting over the horizon in a brilliant fire of color.
Every last bit of resistance was burned away, and, though he knew she continued to suffer, the joy in her countenance told him she welcomed the pain. He was drawn to her, pulled from his seat by the magnetism of her sensual surrender. It was the first time since she’d been with him that he felt she gave of herself completely and without reservation. At the same time, he recognized she’d had all she could take, and he needed to act.
Beyond the Compound: The Compound Trilogy - Book 2 Page 8