Sam held still as he probed her bottom with his fingers while holding a flashlight in his other hand.
“It’s obvious you’re sore, but I don’t see any tearing or worrisome stretching.” He set the flashlight down and unceremoniously inserted another plug, though thankfully it didn’t feel like one of their largest. She grunted and had to work to relax to let the widest part through, but once it was in, it wasn’t too bad.
“You’ll find capri running pants, a sports bra, a wicking shirt, and your new sunglasses on our bed. Put them on and meet me on the patio.”
He slathered her in sunscreen before they left on their run, and she groaned in bliss as his large hands made sure every inch of exposed skin was protected.
Her legs had mostly recovered from her early morning pony-girl run in the great room, but she still had to work to keep up with him, and the butt plug was a constant reminder they were in a scene. Still, the ocean breeze and the sand under her feet felt good.
Ethan pointed to the outdoor fridge when they returned and said, “Drink at least one bottle of sports drink, and then you can have as much water or sports drink as you want. Your choice.” He took a long drink, and Sam admired his throat muscles as he swallowed.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said as he wiped his face with a towel. “You have some down time. You can shower out here, or take a dip in the pool, but you aren’t allowed in the house.” He glanced at the shower. “If you need to pee, you already know where to go, and the plug stays in until I take it out.”
He nodded towards the sunscreen, still on the table. “If you take your clothes off and go into the sun, make sure you put sunscreen on the spots under your clothes. Do you need anything before I head in?”
“No Sir. Thank you.”
Chapter Eight
Sam was relaxing naked in the pool when Ethan returned. He hadn’t bothered with clothes, and his cock was standing at attention. And looked shiny.
“Rest time’s over, my beautiful wife. Join me at the table, please.”
Sam climbed the steps and concentrated on her posture as her body rose from the water. The dozen steps to the table seemed to take forever, and leaning over was harder than normal. It wasn’t so much she didn’t want to submit, as she didn’t want to feel vulnerable right now.
Fingers worked around the outside of the plug, and her ass muscles protested the tug. The memory of Ethan’s shiny cock flashed across Sam’s consciousness, and as she realized he was about to fuck her very sore ass, something inside her snapped.
Ethan’s jaw impacted with her fist before she realized she’d turned and swung with full momentum. Not even his shocked look could stop her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to back off, anyway. He’d used her ass so much last night and today, and she didn’t want to be taken there again.
She managed several strikes to his face and a solid gut punch before Ethan moved into gear and she had to transition from offense to defense. Ethan had never struck her, and her body was focused more on defending against grabs and lifts than his fists, which was why she couldn’t dodge the hands that shoved her backwards. Hard.
If she hadn’t known how to fall, she’d have easily been hurt, but she converted the energy of the fall into a backward roll and landed on her toes in a crouch.
Ethan had taken half a dozen steps away from her, and stood like a regal statue with his legs shoulder width apart and arms crossed over his massive chest. He always looked like a pissed off Greek god when he stood like this, but he was truly pissed now, and Sam stood slowly with her arms at her sides as she realized how bad she’d just screwed up.
“Ethan. I’m… I don’t know what to say. Instinct took over and I didn’t think.”
He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t acknowledge her words, didn’t say anything.
It didn’t feel right to apologize because Sam wasn’t sure she was sorry. She’d acted on instinct; it hadn’t been a premeditated act. Well, maybe there was something she could genuinely apologize for.
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry I…” she paused again, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry I broke your trust?”
Several more minutes passed, and Ethan still didn’t speak. His eyes drilled through her, and while they didn’t show his pain, she knew him well enough to know it was only because he’d put up a wall to keep her out. “Please say something, Ethan.”
He turned on his heels and walked away. “Don’t follow me.”
He was only inside a few seconds, and came out wearing bike shorts and no shoes.
“You used my name twice. Since you seem to think you can end the scene whenever you want, I think I’ll go for another run.” He shook his head when she opened her mouth to protest. “I know I said there’d be a punishment, but I don’t trust myself to strike you right now. While I’m gone I want you to think about how you want the rest of the evening to go. I will not fight for your submission in the middle of a scene while we’re on our honeymoon.”
Sam watched him run until he was a small speck. Unsure of what to do with herself, she wandered inside and sat on the edge of the bed. The plug shifted uncomfortably and she pushed sideways onto the bed, found the right position, and reached back to pull it out.
The involuntary groan and gasp as it came out reminded her of why she’d struck Ethan, and she threw the plug against the wall in a small fit of anger. Yeah, her ass was sore, but it was sore from so much friction, not from being stretched too far. Enduring another ass-fucking would’ve hurt, but wouldn’t have damaged her. Damn, she’d fucked up.
Not sure how long he’d be gone, she put a robe on and looked through the items he’d brought.
The stainless cane was twist-tied with a few other canes, and she focused on the fine motor skills necessary to free it, instead of thinking about how the cane would feel as it struck her.
She stopped in the kitchen for some coconut oil, lubed her ass well, washed her hands, and made her way to the back patio.
The cane went against the half-wall, where he wasn’t likely to see it when he first walked up. With nothing else to do, she sat in one of the cushioned lounge chairs, pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and waited.
The rhythm of the waves was soothing, but Sam was still a bundle of nerves when she finally saw him return. She stood, belted the thigh-length robe and nervously smoothed the fabric, retrieved a bottle of water from the outdoor fridge, and met him as he neared the patio.
Ethan’s jaw muscles flexed as he took in her robe, and Sam rushed to say, “The robe isn’t indicative of how I want the evening to go. I just need to talk to you like this for a few minutes before I take it off and kneel. Please understand.”
He accepted the water, took a long swig, and said in an icy growl, “Then talk.”
“I’ll never give an apology I don’t feel, and since I acted on instinct, it doesn’t feel right to apologize for the act itself. However, I feel horrible that I’ve hurt your feelings, and would do anything to take it back.”
He remained silent, his chiseled jaw looking more like stone than flesh. Sam floundered a little as she continued. “You weren’t…wouldn’t have damaged me. You’d have just…it was just going to hurt.” She took a breath, formed her thoughts better, and continued with a steadier voice. “I broke trust, and I need to make sure we’re okay outside of power exchange before we go back into it and deal with it from that perspective.”
Ethan’s face finally lost a little of its granite façade. “You’ve spent years honing the art of self-defense. I understand your body going into autopilot without checking in, but I need you to stop seeing me as the enemy.”
“Oh, Ethan. I don’t see you as the enemy. Please don’t think that!”
He worked his jaw. “You packed a hell of a punch, Sam. If this is the way you treat your friends, I’m glad you don’t see me as the enemy.”
They wouldn’t get any farther with this tonight, and she’d managed to get him
talking, which had been her primary goal. He’d been so closed off, it’d scared her.
Ethan never made her kneel on concrete, but she’d do it voluntarily tonight, as part of her penance. She tugged the robe’s belt, shrugged the rich fabric from her shoulders, and tossed it onto a chair several feet behind her.
Holding eye contact, she dropped to her knees.
“I’m sorry, Master. I deserve to be punished. The most I’ve ever taken with the stainless is five strikes. I think my behavior warrants doubling my previous worst transgression.”
His face showed an instant of surprise, and Sam continued before he could say anything. If she didn’t get it all out now, she’d lose her nerve. “The cane is a few steps to your left. I took the plug out shortly after you left, and lubed my ass with coconut oil maybe twenty minutes ago. When you’re finished with the cane, you should take my ass without further preparation, Sir.”
Sam couldn’t bear to hold eye contact another second, and dropped her gaze to his feet.
“Stand and present.”
His voice wasn’t harsh, but wasn’t exactly kind, either. Sam rose as gracefully as she could, spread her legs, laced her fingers at the back of her head, arched her back, and pushed her chest up and out. Unsure of where to look, she focused on his cock, which appeared soft under his running shorts.
“Look at me. Eye contact until I give permission to look away.”
A few seconds of silence ensued as Sam withstood his gaze, but she’d said what she planned and needed to be quiet. Ethan finally said, “I’ve never given you more than three strikes with the stainless without restraining you.”
Sam nodded agreement and Ethan tilted his head. “I’m not sure ten strokes is a good idea.”
It was hard to remain silent, but he seemed to be thinking out loud and she didn’t want to sound argumentative.
After another moment or two of silence he appeared to come to a decision. His mind made up, he said, “Go to the exercise room, kneel on the mat, and wait for me.”
“Yes, Master.”
He hadn’t told her how to kneel, so she chose to spread her knees wide, grab her elbows behind her back, and just generally look as pleasing and submissive as possible.
It was a good five minutes before he finally appeared, and she watched the muscles in his feet shift and work as he stepped to a side wall, and then finally walked to her. He dropped to a squat and she raised her face to meet his gaze. His expression was tender now, no longer stern, and she wished she could fall into his embrace, but knew they needed to get through this first.
“Tonight is punishment, tomorrow morning we’ll deal with consequences.” He was solemn, but his eyes gentle, and his deep voice never failed to heat her blood — especially when he was so far into Dom mode. “You’ve chosen the punishment tonight, and will accept what I give you tomorrow morning.”
Sam nodded her acceptance. Tonight he’d wipe the slate clean, tomorrow he’d give her some kind of lesson, hopefully designed to keep her from lashing out at him again. She was in control of her actions, and she had to stop attacking him in the middle of a scene. She welcomed any lesson he could provide if it helped her instincts get the message.
He stood and motioned towards the wall. “I want you bent over, hands on the ballet bar with your back arched and your bottom relaxed for each strike. You can let go in between if you like, but I expect you to get yourself back into position within ten or fifteen seconds for the next strike. You’ll watch me in the mirror, and you will not tense.”
Sam accepted his hand and let him help her stand. Gentle fingers stroked her cheek. “You’ll decide how many you get. If I think your body has had all it can handle I’ll stop, otherwise, you’ll tell me when you feel the punishment matches the transgression.”
Sam followed his gaze to the side wall, saw the bowl of coconut oil, and knew he’d take her ass when the caning was over. It’d been her suggestion, so it wasn’t a surprise, and she braced herself for it. She belonged to him. He had a right to her. All of her.
“Thank you, Master.” There was so much she wanted to say, but instead chose to walk to the wall and present her ass for the cane. She’d show him how sorry she was, no need to continue to tell him.
The first strike always surprised her — the intensity never failed to be far worse than her memory and expectation. Her hands gripped the ballet bar as she hung on for dear life despite his permission to let go. She went up on her toes, and then bent her knees and dipped low, but quickly forced her legs to straighten so she could return to position and arch her back. It seemed impossible, but she managed to breathe in and back out, and convince her bottom and thigh muscles to relax.
“Ask me for the second strike, Samantha.”
“Can I please have the second strike, Sir?”
He took his time getting into position, and then slowly raised his arm, drawing out the anticipation. Sam had to fight to keep her ass and thighs relaxed.
She didn’t let go of the bar until the fourth strike, when she fell to her knees and curled into a ball. He gave her time for a few deep breaths before saying, “Are you finished?”
“No, Sir,” she gasped, and rolled to the balls of her feet before gingerly standing, testing her legs as she pushed up to be sure they’d support her.
She managed to remain standing after the fifth, but taking position for the sixth stroke took sheer willpower. Her body wanted to flee, but she was determined to show Ethan her regret.
“Look up, Samantha. Watch it coming.”
She hadn’t realized she was staring at her hands. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“We’ll stop when you feel it’s enough, but you’ll follow instructions for every strike. You know I love you, and I’ll love you whether you stop now or keep going.”
“I know, Sir. Can I have the sixth strike, please?”
The stainless cane reflected in the mirror like a glowing wand of light instead of a solid piece of steel as he stepped into swinging position and raised it to shoulder height.
He didn’t make her wait long this time, and she lifted her toes off the floor and wiggled them in an effort to keep from tensing her ass as the shaft of light appeared to slice through the air.
The impact seemed to happen in slow motion, so she felt the muscle and skin giving way, the skin and nerves compressing, and the ripples traversing down her thighs and across her bottom, hips, and lower back.
The muscles around her knees went completely slack once again, and she fell to the floor with a thud, though she didn’t let go of the bar.
Determined to stand before he said anything, she allowed herself one deep breath in, and blew it out with force as she pulled up on the bar with her arms and forced energy into her legs, insisting they hold her weight as she moved back into position and arched her back.
When she was satisfied with her bracing she looked at Ethan in the mirror and said, “Can I–” Her voice cracked and she realized she was very close to tears.
“Can I please have the seventh, Master?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and gave a slight shake of his head as he turned and walked away. He only took a few steps, and returned with a gymnastics mat.
Settling it on the floor beside her, he said, “Stand on this. I don’t want you to hurt yourself falling.”
Sam took two steps sideways and resituated herself. “Thank you, Sir, but I’m not sure I deserve to have you taking care of me right now.” Still on the brink of tears, she asked again, “Can I please have the seventh strike, Sir?”
Her ass tensed on its own as he lifted the stainless cane into the air, but she once again forced the muscles relax. Her legs threatened to bolt, to try to escape the impact, but she held onto the bar as if her life depended on it.
The impact felt as if it landed directly on top of an earlier strike, and Sam couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even fall to the ground. Her knees were locked, her arms and wrists froz
en in place, and the world went dark a few seconds.
Air rushed into her lungs as she finally regained muscle control enough to inhale. Her feet lifted in a pseudo march, but she didn’t let go of the bar.
When she thought she could speak coherently, she looked in the mirror, met Ethan’s gaze, and spoke through her tears. “Please, Sir, can I have the eighth?”
Ethan stepped into place, then moved behind her. His focus went to her ass a few seconds, and then back to her face in the mirror. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
Sam wasn’t sure it was possible for her to respond respectfully, so she just looked at him, unsure of where he was going. If she allowed it, her body just might shut down; looking at him was really all she could manage.
“You’re done, Samantha. I know I said you could decide how many, but I don’t want to restrike the same area, and your ass and thighs have taken all they should for one evening.”
Sam started to stand but he shook his head. “Stay put.”
He retrieved the coconut oil and slicked himself on the way back to her. “I know you said you’d lubed yourself, but I want to make sure I don’t tear you.” A single finger entered, rotated, and pulled out. He settled the bowl on a weightlifting bench, and talked as he walked back. “Legs together and on your tiptoes. Get your balance, and reach back to spread your ass and invite me in.”
There was no way Sam could stay in place once he started pushing in, but she didn’t argue, and did her best to comply.
Her asshole was so sore, and her bottom hurt from the caning, but she grit her teeth, spread her cheeks, and looked into the mirror. He didn’t ask, but she said, “Please Sir. Use me. Use my ass.”
She struggled to keep her balance, and she breathed a little easier when he reached for her hips and held her in place.
He spread his legs until his hips were even with hers, and settled his cock at her asshole.
She had to fight the urge to stand and run when his hands squeezed her hips in preparation for entry, but she forced her muscles to relax and allow him into her ass.
No Safeword: Matte - the Honeymoon Page 7