by Lila Dubois
I moaned around his cock. The stimulation muted the discomfort of being face-fucked.
“That’s right. When you’re obedient you are rewarded with pleasure. Now ask yourself, are you doing everything you can to pleasure me?”
The next time Master Clay pulled back I circled the head of his cock with my tongue.
“Very good.” His voice was deeper than it had been before.
There was the jingle of chain and then my right arm was free. I started to reach for his cock but he stopped me, pushing my hand away.
“Put two fingers on your clit. When I thrust in you may stimulate yourself. When I pull out you must stop. I want to see your fingers lifted off your pussy. If you get close to orgasm, remove your hand from your pussy and pinch your right nipple. Do you understand? Thumbs up for yes.”
I gave him a thumbs-up, then dropped my hand to my pussy. I was wet and slippery—more so than I ever had been before. My pussy lips felt fat and swollen, as did my clit.
As he thrust in I stroked myself. I swallowed against his cock, trying to keep him inside me so I could keep rubbing. Every pass of my fingers was pure bliss.
He withdrew and I raised my hand. When he didn’t thrust back in right away I sucked on the head of his cock, trying to draw him back in.
Master Clay started fucking my mouth in earnest then—his rhythm was faster, the strokes no longer as deep. I took advantage of every second, toying with myself until I was dancing on the edge. When I knew that the next bit of stimulation would push me over I reluctantly lifted my hand away, pinching my nipple with wet fingers.
For a long moment I thought Master Clay hadn’t noticed, but then the tip of the crop rubbed my clit. My legs strained against the bonds as I tried to arch into the pleasure. He rocked into me, bracing himself by grabbing my left breast and squeezing. I realized he was about to come. His cock twitched and I struggled to swallow. He raised the crop and struck my clit. Pain exploded followed immediately by pleasure. The cropping had pushed me over the edge. The orgasm that had been building for what seemed like hours crashed over me, ripping me apart from the inside out. I started to choke but Master Clay withdrew from my mouth and then lifted my head, which forced me to swallow.
I realized these things only vaguely. I was too caught up in the pleasure. As my body throbbed and clenched I became aware of the egg and the plug, which now each felt huge. The vibrating of the egg was almost painful, it caused such acute feelings of pleasure.
I didn’t realize I was still pinching my nipple until Master Clay pulled my hand away, forcing it back into position and holding it there as I finished coming.
He reattached the wrist restraint and then tilted the cross up. I sagged, letting my head fall forward to relieve my tired neck muscles. The egg was still vibrating away inside me, and I didn’t know if I wanted it to stop or if I wanted more—more vibrations, something bigger filling me.
I didn’t realize I was crying until Master Clay wiped my cheeks with his fingers.
“That was lovely, Leona.”
“Thank you, Master Clay.” My voice was raw.
His fingers explored my pussy and sensation shot through me. “No! No more!”
“No more?” He raised one brow, then very deliberately stroked my clit.
I moaned, my upper body falling forward.
“That’s not a decision you make when you submit to me. I’m aware that you’re exceptionally sensitive right now. I’m aware that any touch to your clit would border on painful, but what did we discuss earlier?”
Each touch made me jump. It felt as if my clit were a raw, exposed nerve. “That…that you might want to hurt me.”
“Your voice is raw. Would you like a drink of water?”
“Yes, please.”
“There’s a price.”
I whimpered, but I was thrilled by his words.
“Either you wear a clit and nipple clamps for the rest of the evening or you go into the stocks for a spanking.”
This time both options made me shiver with want. I started to say that I’d prefer the clamps—the idea of nipple clamps thrilled me—but I stopped myself. Instead I met his gaze and said, “Whatever would please you more, Master.”
Master Clay’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Very good, Leona. Into the stocks with you. But I think some nipple clamps are still called for.”
Chapter Four
Master Clay led me to a bathroom, and when I came out he guided me to the stocks with a hand on my back. I’d had time to come down from the intense pleasure while I cleaned up. Now I just felt lethargic. I wanted this to end. That had been enough pleasure to last me months. I would be fine if this were over and I could go put on some comfy clothes and curl up with a book. But I’d signed up for more than that. My master wasn’t done with me, and it was up to me to obey him, even if I didn’t want to.
I could use a safe word or at least say “yellow” and asked to slow everything down. But I didn’t want to do that. As much as he scared me, as tired as I now was, Master Clay had also showed me that BDSM was exactly what I wanted, what I needed. No vanilla sex with a stupid college frat boy would ever make me feel the way he just did.
I hadn’t seen the stocks when I first walked in because they were in shadow. When I came out of the bathroom Master Clay went to a panel on the wall and adjusted the lights. Once he did I could see it—a waist-high structure made of wood. He lifted off the upper bar and motioned for me to get in place. I balked.
There were three semicircular indentations—a larger one in the middle and two others each about a foot and a half away from the center.
“Leona, place your neck in the center cutout and your wrists in each of the others.”
“Master,” I whispered, letting my feelings show in my voice. I was reluctant to do what he ordered but reluctant to completely defy him.
“Leona, the spanking I planned is for our mutual enjoyment. Do not make it turn into true punishment. If I were forced to punish you on your first time I doubt you would ever come back. Or that you would ever seek out a master again.”
There was cool warning in his words and I shivered.
I lowered my neck reluctantly into the semicircular opening, then placed my wrists in the matching spots. The inside of the cutouts were padded with leather. That plus the collar and wrist cuffs meant that I was fairly comfortable. At least this time my neck was bending forward instead of back.
Master Clay fitted the upper piece into place and then bolted it closed. I heard the clunk of wood pegs. The posture belt I still wore meant that I had to keep my back flat, which thrust my ass up and out. I was sure that wasn’t by chance.
The stocks acted as a blinder, preventing me from seeing anything that was happening to my body, and I was left staring at a cage in the far corner and trying not to imagine myself locked inside it. The plug was still firmly embedded within me, but Master Clay had removed the egg before releasing me from the St. Andrew’s Cross. Now he stroked the curve of my ass, his hand firm and warm.
When he grabbed the base of the plug I clenched. As scared as I had been to have the plug inserted I was now reluctant to have it removed. The constant stimulation it provided help me stay in the right mindset, had helped me lower my head into the stocks. Without the plug I think my body would have shut down, rejecting any more stimulation.
“Relax while I pull it out.”
I did my best but Master Clay had to tug it a few times before it pulled free of my body.
Master Clay reached under me, lifting and squeezing my breasts. He stroked the tight points of my nipples.
Tired as I was, as secretly reluctant as I was to start up again, my body had different ideas. With just a small amount of stimulation, the intense need that had burned within me flared to life once more.
It was not the physical things he would do to me that I should be afraid of, but his ability to touch this intense, dark part of my soul.
“These are simple tweezer clamps.” Maste
r Clay dangled them where I could see. “I can adjust and control the tightness. Since this is your first time will set them for just enough to stimulate you but not add true pain that you will need to deal with.”
I felt the cold metal as he laid the clamps, attached by a chain, on my back. He then tugged and rolled each of my nipples, playing with them until they felt swollen. Chain clinked as he lifted the clamps off my back and then there was pressure on each nipple. When he stood I could feel the gentle weight of the clamps and chain and wished I could see my breasts. I knew from looking at pictures on Tumblr what tweezer clamps were and could imagine what my breasts looked like—the long metal sticks dangling from my bright-pink nipples.
Master Clay’s hand slid over the cheeks of my ass once more. “Have you ever been spanked?”
“No, Master.”
“But you enjoyed the idea of spanking, don’t you?”
“Yes, Master. But not the little schoolgirl spanking.”
“That’s a shame, because you alone out of every sub I ever worked with could pull off a little schoolgirl look. But I also understand why at your age would not want to be perceived as any younger. It is only later in your life that you want that once more.”
I frowned, not liking the way he was describing me, and doubting that I would ever want to play the little Catholic schoolgirl. That just seemed creepy. Before I could get too obsessed with thinking about that his hands slid from my butt down to the back of my knees and up again. I stretched into his touch like a cat enjoying being petted. I didn’t mean to, I just reacted.
“I think a good twenty spanks will be enough. You will still feel it tomorrow, and it will hurt, but I think you’ll enjoy it too. I know I will enjoy it and that’s why we’re doing it.”
Without further warning he spanked me. My butt jiggled from the swat and the sound was far scarier than the actual contact. I liked it. I’d expected I would—I loved pictures and videos of girls bent over a lap—but I hadn’t quite imagined how much I would enjoy it.
I secretly wished that I were over his knee. Wished I could squirm against him, could feel if spanking me was making him hard. I didn’t like the stocks—at least not right now. I wanted to see what was going on. I wanted to feel him.
Smack.
The second spank landed on my other ass cheek, the sound just as loud, the sting just as pleasurable. He alternated cheeks, each spank a little bit louder than the last, and as the spanking progressed I realized each blow was a little bit harder.
My ass was warm and by the time he reached sixteen I was jerking and jumping with each blow that fell. He was really spanking me now. Instead of a little crack sound each blow made a solid thwunk as it connected. He held his hand in place rather than pulling it back and that seemed to burn the sensation into my flesh.
Another spank and I danced in place, bending my knees and shuffling my feet.
“Ouch. Ouch.” I was unable to keep quiet any longer.
Master Clay rubbed my bottom.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Master. It hurts more than I thought.”
“Submissives are always surprised by the fact that spankings hurt. I’m not sure why but I found this to be true. I think that’s my favorite part.”
He rubbed one finger in my pussy. “You are enjoying this,” he said when he felt how wet I was.
“Yes, Master.” I was once more a messy collection of desire and dark arousal.
“I’m glad,” he said, “but you are so delectable when being spanked that I’m afraid I would spank you no matter what.”
The masterful words had me shivering in pleasure. “Yes, Master, I’m glad I can please you.”
“Oh you do, Leona. You do. I want you to count these last four and thank me for each one.”
Smack.
I yelped, dancing in place. When the pain abated I did as I was ordered. “Seventeen. Thank you, Master Clay.”
I counted out the last three, each of which was harder than the last. By the time I whispered, “Twenty. Thank you, Master Clay,” I was crying.
I stood there, bent at the waist, unable to move, while Master Clay walked away. The spanking seemed to have taken the last of my control, the last of my emotional reserves. When he took off the upper pieces and helped me to stand, all I could do was stand there and sway. I was caught between emotional and physical exhaustion, between a bone-deep need to come and a strange stasis. I was so conflicted that I did nothing. Rather than crumple to the floor or turn and jump Master Clay, I simply stood there, waiting.
“Straddle the Sybian machine, Leona. You’re going to fuck yourself on it until you come while you suck my cock.”
I looked at the round black machine he’d placed on the floor. It looked like half of a small barrel. Resting on the top was a flesh-colored dildo.
I straddled it and sank down.
“Hold open your pussy lips so I can see.”
My fingers slipped as I tried to pinch my wet, swollen labia. I finally managed it, opening myself and leaning back so my upper body wouldn’t block the view. The chain of the nipple clamps tapped against my belly as I moved.
I positioned myself over the dildo, then looked up. Master Clay nodded and I sank down. I moaned in pleasure. The feeling of fullness was almost enough to have me coming.
“No, Leona. You may not come unless you’re sucking my cock.”
I looked at Master Clay and opened my mouth. He took his semierect cock from his pants and pressed it against my lips. I was tense, not wanting to go through the deep throat fucking from before. Licking the head of his cock, I felt it swell in my mouth.
“Do not bite me when I turn the machine on.”
I had a moment to wonder what he was talking about before the things I was straddling started to vibrate. It was a thousand times more intense than my own small vibrator. I moaned around Master Clay’s cock as pleasure spiked through me. I started sucking him in earnest, my head bobbing up and down on his increasingly erect cock.
“Raise your hands.”
I released my pussy lips and lifted my arms. Master Clay hooked one finger in the D-rings on the cuffs and stretched my arms up above my head. “Lean forward, Leona, so that your clit touches the Sybian.”
I looked up at him, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming if I got any more stimulation.
“I said you could come as long as you were sucking my cock.”
The instant I shifted, rocking so that my clit touched the vibrating black surface, I came. I sucked hard on Master Clay’s cock as pleasure washed over me. My head was bobbing up and down, his cock now hitting the back of my throat, but I didn’t care.
The orgasm peaked and started to subside, but the stimulation didn’t stop. I started to lift myself off but Master Clay put one foot on my thigh, forcing me back down. I jerked and started to come again. I ripped my mouth off his cock as my teeth clenched from the intensity of the pleasure.
“Master,” I begged.
Dropping to one knee, Master Clay forced me down. He bent my upper body so that my belly practically touched the Sybian. I sobbed as my clit was bombarded with sensation. He released my arms only to force them together behind my back. A hand on the small of my back kept me in contact with the machine.
“You think you can’t come any more, don’t you?”
“I can’t. I can’t. Master, please.” I barely knew what I was saying. My leg and belly muscles were shaking.
“I think you can. I think that I can make you come again and again. You would do anything I asked of you right now, wouldn’t you, Leona?”
“Yes, Master, yes. Whatever you want.”
“You’d do it to make this stop, or you’d do it because this isn’t enough, because you need more?”
It wasn’t until he asked that I realize the truth in his words. There was something building inside me, something so intense and strange that I hadn’t realized what it was—another peak, another wave of pleasure that
could and would break over me if given the chance.
I hung my head, unable or unwilling to say the truth.
“Remember that, Leona. Remember that if I wanted to I could make you do anything I want.” There was something in his voice that I knew should frighten me, but I couldn’t focus enough to understand what it was.
“Yes, Master, anything.”
“Good.”
The vibration slowed and I breathed a sigh of relief. Master Clay let me sit up, then slid his hand between me and the machine. He placed a finger on each side of my clit before turning the machine up once more. His fingers transferred the vibration from the machine to my hypersensitive body. Instead of being mashed between my pelvic bone and hard leather, my clit was now cradled by sensation. I whimpered. My throat was raw, the sound tortured. I was drowning in the feelings, but there was nowhere to go. There was nothing more I could give him.
I was wrong.
“I’m not done with you, Leona.”
“M-master, please.”
“Being a submissive is about more than pleasure. It’s about giving all you are over to a master. It’s about knowing that your master will take you to the edge of your own understanding and then beyond it.”
Master Clay ripped the clamps off my nipples, fisted his hand in my hair and jerked my head back. That control, his possession of my body, was the thing I needed.
Pleasure so intense that my whole body shook washed over me.
Master Clay pulled me up and off the machine before my orgasm was even done. He laid me on the floor and when I tried to curl into a ball he forced me flat and spread my legs so he could watch my pussy clenching. I was twitching and thrashing under him, held down by his grip on my hair, his leg over mine and his hand on my inner thigh, one thumb pulling open my pussy.
As I came down from the impossible peak he’d forced me to climb I blinked, staring up at the ceiling. My breathing was labored as if I’d been running. I lay in the floor with my eyes half closed for a long time. When I’d calmed down and my pulse rate had slowed my first thought was what have I gotten myself into?