by L. DuBois
“Have you ever been paddled?” she asked, gaze sliding down his body in a way that made him want to both preen and rub up against her.
“I have. When I trained to be a Dom. The guy I trained with had a rule you couldn’t use anything you hadn’t had used on you.”
“I’m trying to imagine you in a submissive pose…” She shook her head.
“You clearly haven’t watched enough gay male BDSM porn. Guys who look like me make excellent power bottoms.” He winked and then raised the paddle, rubbing it over her ass, though the leather skirt would mute the sensation considerably.
“I will have to expand my porn watching horizons,” she murmured. Though she was still twisted to look at him over her shoulder, her gaze was no longer focused. She was looking into middle space.
Good. That meant she was focusing on what she felt, not what she saw.
He raised the paddle and let it fall, tapping her ass. To his surprise, she sighed and seemed to relax.
Was that because it had been a mere tap instead of a proper swat, or was it relief that he’d finally started the impact play?
Cain raised the paddle and this time added a bit of force. Enough to have her rocking forward, but she was steady on her feet.
The contact of leather on leather made the sound of paddling both sharper and richer than it would have otherwise been.
Cain planted his feet, then raised the paddle and focused. He set the pattern in his mind, where each blow would fall, when he would pepper her ass with rapid fire spanks versus harsher, heavy blows.
With the plan set, he raised his arm and went to work.
Victoria tensed as the twentieth strike of the paddle fell on her ass. Warmth suffused her skin, but it was just warmth, without the heat she would have felt by now if she hadn’t had the protection of the leather skirt.
It was a good paddling, alternating speed, placement, and force level. The idea that Cain was some sort of master spanker turned her on. It was damned sexy when a man had a plan and knew what he was doing.
She tensed, not because she was afraid of the pain, but because tightening the muscles in her ass actually made the swats hurt that little bit more.
“Relax,” Cain murmured.
“I will if you hit me harder.” She’d meant it to be teasing, but instead her words were tinged with irritation.
“Impatient?”
She felt him rest the paddle on her lower back before walking around the railing so he could crouch and look up at her. She raised her forehead off her arms, propping her chin on her wrist to look at him.
“I figured you’d be one of those zen, patient subs.”
“Why?”
He arched a brow. “You like ropes.”
Good rope bondage, especially for inversion, took a long time to tie, and often the amount of time she spend in suspension was less than what it had taken her to get there. It was like making cookies—it took far longer to make one than it did to eat it.
“That’s different.”
His gaze searched her face. “Because when you’re in suspension you are submissive, and right now you’re not.”
“Clearly I’m submissive,” she shot back. She should be offended that he didn’t think of her as a sub, but really she wasn’t.
Because you don’t want him to see you as…
“Fine, you’re submissive, but not in the way you would be if you were bound by more than this.” He tugged on one of the leather straps around her arms. “I thought…”
She winced, wondering if she’d pissed him off by not being more overtly submissive. Of course she had—she knew the kind of subs he usually played with. She’d watched more than a few of his scenes.
To her surprise, Cain smiled. “You’re going to make me work for it, huh?”
He rose and made his way back around the railing.
“Afraid of a little hard work?” she asked with mock concern, hiding her relief that they’d moved away from this uncomfortable subject.
“Oh no, I’m plenty hard,” he murmured as he lifted the paddle off her back.
Victoria twisted to look, trying to see if his cock was bulging his leathers. She couldn’t see from this angle, which was irritating, because she really wanted to know if she turned him on.
That shouldn’t matter, because, as they’d already discussed, this wasn’t going to be sexual. Intimate, yes—she couldn’t stop thinking about his comment that he would have his hands on, in, every part of her body—but nothing they’d negotiated had involved his dick.
And yet she really, really wanted to know if he found spanking her sexually arousing. She wanted to know if he enjoyed spanking her not just as a Dom, but as a man.
The paddle fell again, this time harder than anything that had come before, the strike landing across her sit spot—where butt met thigh. She rose onto her toes in surprise, then settled back.
Thud.
Another equally hard blow fell to the sit spot on the other side.
Those ones hurt.
The first twinges of physical fear gripped her. This was starting to hurt in truth, a deep aching throb like a bruise forming, instead of the sharper, shorter surface sting of a spanking.
Physical fear was something she rarely felt in BDSM scenes anymore—though suspension was a highly physical experience. Repeated exposure had muted her fear of both the ropes and falling.
The paddle landed across the center of her ass, striking both cheeks at once, and even through the skirt that one hurt. She hissed and rose on her toes even as she bent her knees to help keep her balance.
“Have you figured it out yet?” Cain murmured.
Forehead on her bound arms, she didn’t look up as she asked, “Figured it out?”
Cain’s hand ran over her ass. “The leather will mute the feeling of the paddle, but it will also hold the heat in.”
His hand lifted and a moment later the paddle struck her again.
This time Victoria cried out. Pain made her shoulders tight. Her calf muscles were starting to ache.
But both those feelings were lost in comparison to the intense heat in her ass. Now that he’d said heat, that was all she could feel—the deep, aching burn.
While she was still sorting through her feelings, he raised the paddle again.
Thud.
Another hard blow to the upper part of her thighs, the paddle long enough to span both at once given that her legs weren’t actually that far apart.
She raised her head from her wrists and leaned forward, putting her weight on her elbows as she tried to get away.
Thud, thud.
“Back in position.”
His words were hard, cold. Gone was the thread of amusement and teasing she was used to hearing from him.
Now you’re just a sub to him.
Before that thought could take root, the paddle cracked down on her ass again.
And again.
Pain and heat, heat that was pain, coated her ass from nearly the small of her back to her upper thighs.
He was merciless.
Thud, thud.
Again and again he spanked her, paddling her so hard that sometimes, when she exhaled, the air came out as a whimper.
The center of her ass was the most abused, and she had a bad feeling she wasn’t going to be able to sit comfortably anytime soon.
She was crying, and not from emotional release. Not from the catharsis that sometimes brought tears to her eyes when she dangled upside down in a rope harness.
“Almost done,” he murmured, and the softness of his voice undid her.
She let out a sob, and twisted so she could hide her face in the crook of her elbow. Cain’s hand smoothed over her ass and even that gentle touch hurt thanks to the prior abuse of her bottom.
“A few more I think,” he murmured.
Victoria’s head jerked up in surprise. He couldn’t be serious. She was crying in pain, he had to see that, had to stop…
Thud.
Victori
a screamed, as much in shock as from the fresh wave of pain that trembled through her.
Her leg muscles started to shake, her stomach was tight from trying to suppress sobs.
“Cain,” she snapped after wiping her face on her arm. Well, she tried to snap the word, but it came out watery, not as strong as she wanted or needed them to be.
“Problem, Vic?”
“This hurts.” The words wobbled a little, but didn’t sound plaintive, which she counted as a win.
“Good. It’s supposed to.” Thud.
This time the blow from the paddle stole what she was about to say, turning words into a shriek.
Merciless. He looked merciless, and, it turns out, as a top he was utterly, terrifyingly…wonderfully…cruel.
Shivering, Victoria dropped her forehead back on to her arms.
Thud.
How much longer would this go on? How much more could she take? She had her safe word, of course. Was that what he wanted? He was going to push her to the point that she had to use her safe word?
A good Dom never planned a scene which ended in the sub using the safe word. Pushing someone to and past their breaking point wasn’t what BDSM was about. That’s not to say a lot of BDSM didn’t involve expanding or shifting someone’s personal limits, but planning to paddle someone until they had to use their safe word was not what a good Dom would do.
Maybe he wasn’t a good Dom.
The heat in her ass had become a burn that throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
Maybe, once he was in a scene, he was pure sadist.
The leather of the skirt trapped the heat. At this point it was like her ass was sunburned, and he was paddling that abused skin.
Thud.
Victoria whimpered, but that one hadn’t been as hard as the blow that came before. It still hurt—even a gentle hand spanking would have hurt, her ass was so abused—but it was definitely gentler.
She tensed, wondering if the softness of the last blow meant that the next one would be even harder.
It wasn’t. The next blow was gentle in comparison to what had come before. Instead of the heavy thud, the leather-covered paddle was back to making a snapping sound as it bounced off her leather-covered butt.
Victoria resisted the urge to relax, sure that if she did he’d go back to the hard paddling.
Cain laid the paddle on her back, along her spine. The leather felt warm where it touched her air-conditioner-cooled skin.
Victoria couldn’t stop the whimper of relief that the paddling was done. Her whole body ached—she’d tensed nearly every muscle at some point. Everything but her throbbing ass felt tired and a little shaky, similar to a post-workout ache.
Cain’s touched her butt, but this time it wasn’t a caress. He laid his palm on the center of her right cheek, and held it there for a moment, as if testing the heat level. Then he lifted his hand and moved his palm to another spot on her ass.
He grunted, in apparent satisfaction.
“Done?” Victoria asked, in a voice that didn’t quaver, though it was a close thing. Then, realizing what she’d said might have sounded like a challenge, she added, “Cain…Sir.”
“Tacking on a ‘Sir’ just for manners?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I’m hoping that will make you feel sad for the poor abused sub.”
Cain snorted in amusement. “Maybe you should mean it when you say ‘Sir.’”
“I thought we’d agreed that…”
Between the two of them formality and titles seemed wrong. They’d agreed to that, damn it.
But…
It was utterly stupid of her to not be on her very best submissive behavior considering the paddling he’d just given her.
“The only thing I agree to is that it’s time for me to get a better look at this sweet ass.”
Cain found the zipper on the side of her skirt and lowered it. She hissed as he worked the leather down her aching ass.
“That’s a well-paddled ass,” Cain said when the skirt was puddled around her feet. He toyed with her lace thong for a moment.
When he didn’t remove that, she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.
“Time for a little chat,” Cain said after another moment of apparently admiring her butt. “Holding up?”
“Good…thank you,” she corrected herself. “My shoulders and arms are starting to hurt.”
He picked up the paddle from her back. “I bet that’s not the only thing that hurts.”
And this time when he ran the leather paddle over her bare butt, it was much more intimate a feeling. A feeling that had her sucking in air between her teeth.
Cain made a cruel, happy noise, and then slid the paddle down one leg, then back up the inside of that same leg, stopping when the paddle was between her thighs, the edge dangerously close to her sex. Bent over as she was, if he raised the paddle higher he would hit the top of her vulva, but not her pussy lips, not her clit.
She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Cain moved the paddle side to side, gently tapping the insides of her thighs. “Spread these pretty legs for me,” he rumbled.
Victoria tried to spread her legs, nearly tripping when her skirt, pooled around her feet, caught her shoe.
With a hiss she stepped out of the discarded clothing, legs spread wide.
It meant her inner thighs, her pussy, were exposed and vulnerable.
Cain twisted the paddle, the edges brushing her inner thighs. He raised it, angled so he could rub the flat of the paddle against her vulva. She shivered at the intimacy but bent her knees, trying to grind against it a little harder.
When she realized what she was doing she stopped, locking her knees. This wasn’t what she did—she didn’t hump stuff like a dog.
Cain rubbed her pussy a few more times, but with her knees locked she managed to maintain her dignity.
He grunted, but this time it was a question. She prepared several responses, but when he moved away from her without comment, Victoria relaxed.
Cain undid the straps on her arms, then helped her stand. Her abused ass ached and it brought tears to her eyes she quickly blinked away.
She rubbed her arms with her hands, then circled her shoulders to work the tight muscles. To her surprise, Cain came up behind her, his big hands settling on her shoulders. His fingers dug in to the muscles and she moaned in pleasure, her head falling forward.
For several moments he worked her muscles, strong fingers kneading with just enough pressure to force her shoulders to submit, to relax when they wanted to still be tense.
“Tell me, Vic,” he purred. “Are you going to make these sexy noises when I put on a pair of leather gloves and finger-fuck your pussy?”
Chapter 5
“Say please and I won’t make you sit on it.”
Victoria slid her gaze to the left, to where Cain was smirking. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, contemplating the cocktail-height table he’d pulled into position in a second pool of light. The tabletop was covered in dark-blue vinyl—easy to clean—and instead of a single center post, this one had three legs, spaced so that the table was sturdy enough for someone to sit, kneel, or lay on top of.
“Begging isn’t my style,” she murmured.
“Saying please isn’t begging.”
She hummed, a non-committal noise.
“Oh, Vic, when I make you beg, you’re going to have to do a lot better than ‘please’.”
“You want me sitting?” she asked coolly.
Cain turned to face her, and she could feel him frowning. She kept her attention on the table, her shoulders, which he’d just worked the knots out of, tight once more.
“What happened walking from there to here?” Cain asked in a low voice.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” The lie made her stomach hurt, but Victoria wasn’t ready…
Wasn’t ready to what? To be his submissive? It was a bit late for that. She’d been tied up, well act
ually down, and paddled with an intensity that meant she really didn’t want to sit anywhere.
I’d rather sit on my battered butt than start acting all stupid and submissive with him.
That thought made her breath catch, and she was inwardly focused, so much so that she barely noticed when Cain grunted and stepped away. He returned with a step stool, placing it next to the cocktail-height table.
“Up.” His tone was hard with command, hard in a way it hadn’t been before. “Hands and knees.”
Had she pissed him off? Probably. She needed to pay attention.
Victoria climbed onto the step stool and then scrambled up onto the table, tentative at first until she was sure it would hold her weight. The vinyl was cool but tacky as she perched on hands and knees, her fingers curled over one edge, her feet and lower legs sticking out into space on the other side.
Victoria took a deep breath and forced down this contrary feeling, which she still couldn’t fully define. Though that passing thought—that she didn’t want to act “stupid and submissive” with him—was a big hint as to what this feeling might be.
She just wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.
“How do you want me, Cain?”
She was watching him out of the corner of her eye and saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“Kneel back, put that ass on your heels.”
Carefully, Victoria turned so that she faced him, her body centered on the table, knees spread shoulder width apart.
Then she sat back, her ass pressing not just against her own heels, but the hard edges—the curve of the back of the sole, the narrow length of the slender heels digging furrows into her ass.
She hissed out a breath and rose up.
Cain put his hands on her legs and forced her down again. “No.”
“Damn it, Cain.”
He pressed harder on her thighs. “I want you to feel it.” He was merciless.
She shivered, settling back with a whimper.
But he didn’t let go.
Instead he slid his hands up her thighs, gripping her hips and pressing down, forcing her ass harder against her ankles, heels, and the unforgiving leather and plastic of her shoes.
She hissed and grabbed his wrists, nails digging in. Pain throbbed through her, and inside the leather bralette she felt her nipples pebble, not in response to the pain, or not just the pain.