Prima

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Of course, none of that made any difference to him. Joseph lay on the switch thickly over the still vivid reminders of yesterday's session. Her bottom was still swollen, the skin taut and easily branded by the slim tool of her agony, one weal above the other with each powerful laceration of bruised skin up and down her backside.

  He didn't know what it was about this woman, but punishing her, having her, owning her, and controlling her kept him perpetually engorged. If he hadn't relieved himself with her as often as he did, he didn't know what he would have done. Perhaps it was the owning of her, and it would have been the same with any woman. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was the woman herself, part of his mind pondered as his arm rose and fell without him.

  But that would have been ascribing way too much importance to this one woman. Prima was a female, he'd bought and paid for her, and she was his to do with as he pleased with no politically correct police to tell him different. Frankly, despite her weekly and current trials, he was easier on her than most men in his position would be, but then, Joseph had never much liked the idea of being one of the masses.

  When his mind returned to the wonderfully pleasant task before him, the force of his desire nearly made him explode in his pants. The sight of her curved, fleshy cheeks and legs – made more so by his previous attentions and already darkened in places with bruising, still welted all over from the cane and the ruler paddle's kiss – whipped repeatedly from just below the small of her back to just above the backs of her knees literally made his mouth water. She was screaming – well, screaming was relative considering she'd broken her voice yesterday, but he knew that the croaks and cries that were emanating from that unbearably exciting leather getup he'd put on her head were the equivalent of screaming at the tops of her lungs if she'd been physically able to. Her incessant squirming, dancing undulations as she tried to avoid the kiss of the cruel thin lash made him want to mount her as he was punishing her, but he didn't want to have to go through the gyrations that would require.

  No, he steeled himself to do one thing at a time, do it very well and very thoroughly, then move on to his sweet reward.

  Joseph put the switch aside and picked up the thin rubber strap in one fluid motion, never missing a beat between one implement at the other. One minute, her bottom was subjected to the light bite – in comparison – of the switch, and the next the fuller, harsher chunks-out-of-your-ass feeling of that nasty rubber strap. He knew how a rubber strap felt on a bare bottom from personal experience. When he was growing up, long ago, well before all of the psychobabble about not spanking your children, Joseph had been subject to his father's unforgiving discipline – with rubber or leather straps, depending on what the old man got to first. Many was the night that Joseph was put to bed sobbing, on his tummy, bare-bottomed, with his nightshirt tucked well above his bottom.

  The rubber strap never failed to make his Prima sing from the get-go. It was almost as if she was an opera singer holding a mournful, keening note until it died out, only to be renewed with the next breath. Sometimes, she was able to hold it longer than others, other times, it started out as a heartfelt groan, and sometimes, it ended that way. With her ruined voice, it was almost an eerie sound, fit for Halloween. Joseph bet that two inch width of rubber ignited the itchy-stingies on the lattice of switch welts, as well as the leftover burning welts of the cane. He knew that it set her to pulling at all of the well-anchored restraints. Joseph took a long moment and watched the play in the mirror in front of her, gaining enormous enjoyment from seeing her torment played out in her face, in her body language, her face a perfect portrait of pure misery, another puddle of tears flooding the table beneath her chin. He especially loved the fact that she couldn't turn away from the tableau but had to see each horrific stroke as it whistled towards the butt she offered him so nicely, and then she had to endure the resounding ache it created.

  A thought struck him. He knew that he had just found himself an extra-curricular project for sometime soon. She was lying on a table, which pressed her breasts up against her body and denied him the incredible, lascivious pleasure of watching them sway with each powerful smack across her bottom…or binding them tight…or clamping those impertinent raspberry nipples of hers and hanging weights, or maybe bells off the clamps…

  Joseph hadn't thought he could get any harder than he already was, but his body proved him wrong when he thought about her breasts. His thoughts, however, did not lessen the force of his swing nor its hellish tempo. The rubber strap tore into Prima's nether cheeks and thighs, again and again, leaving them a bright, angry, doubly swollen red. After he didn't know how many strokes, he stopped and clutched a well-roasted cheek in each hand, squeezing and cruelly rubbing his rough fingers over the raised welts. His greedy flesh-claim got him another mock-scream from that tightly bitted mouth as well as copious tears while she tried valiantly to arch away from him but could barely move a millimeter, he had bound her so tight.

  Grabbing the big leather strap, he moved up to her head, kissing her forehead gently. "This is the second to last implement. I was going to stop after this, but I want to give you a good hard caning once I'm through with the strap." Prima went through more wild and furious gyrations at his words, her eyes huge and tear-filled. Joseph patted her head in a pseudo-soothing manner, and then returned to his place. And, he felt, it truly was the right place for him, and, although she'd probably never ever admit it, this was the right place for her, too. He gathered evidence to defend that idea by probing gently between Prima's legs, between those two glowing globes, right into the heart of her heat – and into a veritable ocean of natural lubricant. Her outer lips were soft and blood-swollen, as was her not-so-little nerve bundle. Her body craved this the way his body craved giving it to her – so bad you think you're going to die, so good you think it's going to kill you.

  The strap was just the right size for her bottom, covering almost all of it in one thunderous thwack that threw her forward against her restraints, her rich cheek-flesh wobbling enticingly. She rocked back, meeting the next blow naturally, as if greeting the touch of a lover. Prima completely lost any coherence within the first three applications of stiff leather to soft, pliant skin, which was entirely understandable. Her mouth remained open throughout her appointment with the heavy strop, through each new bruise, each newly irritated welt, each brush of air that preceded each new, horrible burst of agony, poised open in a scream of traumatized silence. Joseph thought it was just the right size, but Katherine heartily disagreed; its width caused such overlapping that it was almost as if she was strapped in exactly the same spot all the time, despite the fact that he was moving it up and down her body. Forgetting the severity of the implement, the sheer repetition of a full-force whacking of the same previously tenderized area…Prima went a little mad with it.

  Time stood still for the both of them – all there was in their world was the rhythmic sounds of her thorough thrashing – Joseph's greedy, unbearable pleasure at Prima's unbearable anguish.

  The strap fell to the floor after who knew how many solid, body-rocking cracks, and Joseph made a thorough inspection of her skin before he picked up the cane, saying, "You'll bear it."

  But Katherine's mind literally exploded when she saw him pick up the new polyurethane cane that he had found on eBay. When he'd received it, she had eyed it warily, and he had casually informed her that it was the most severe cane he could find.

  She'd lucked out and not had to bend over for a demonstration right then and there, but it looked like her luck had definitely run out.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a long while later that he put her to bed on her tummy for the second day in a row. Joseph joined her, lying beside her to stroke the soft river of her hair and rub her back. Prima was awake and tried to turn her head away from him to look at the closet door, but he physically turned it back so that she was looking at him. She had cried so much she didn't have any tears left, although he had given her water periodically throughout. When
he was done, he gave her a bottle full of cool spring water, and Katherine greedily drank it down.

  That cane was the devil in plastic; Katherine was sure she'd have no fear of hell – she'd already been through it, twice. Unlike the rest of her trial by pain, as he whipped that rod down onto her butt cheeks, he talked to her. He complimented her on the way her bottom cheeks absorbed each blow, on the print pattern of welts the two sessions were making, on how sexy she looked with the bit-gag in her mouth and her head held up and immobile. He talked about how wet she got when he did this to her and how excited her response made him, and how excited just doing this to her made him – apparently her response to his abuse was an extra-added bonus he hadn't counted on.

  Prima, however, considered her response humiliating in the extreme. When the last blow fell from the cane, she couldn't even comprehend that he'd stopped, she was so hysterical from the pain. She was shaking and shivering and moaning an odd sound that was the only thing she could get out – it sounded surprisingly like when Papa's dog had tried to bark in her sleep, a pitiful, futile attempt to express her agony.

  To her surprise and confusion, Joseph had remained behind her, stroking her back and flanks in a gentle, soothing motion. He popped up once quickly to offer her water, clean up the tears and wipe her face, then bumped up the heat since she was shivering – although he ascribed it more to pure reaction than to temperature. Joseph went back to stand behind her as he tried to calm her, watching her in the mirror just as avidly as he had when he was waling on her bottom.

  When her breathing had calmed some, and she was no longer shuddering and shaking, he squatted behind her still-blatantly-exposed derriere and began to rub his whole hand over her privates. His expression, as it reflected in the mirrors, was one of pride of ownership. His fingers inevitably dipped between her inner lips, reveling in the copious moisture he found there. "Oh, baby, this is so good," he whispered. "So good."

  Without another word, he unzipped his jeans and took his practically exploding cock out to place it at the entrance to her body while he rummaged behind him on the couch. It was tempting to drive into her there – very tempting indeed – but that was not what he wanted. Instead, he put a dollop of lubricant on the already oozing head, barely able to stand the contact for long enough to do so, then put a larger blob on her puckered little flower.

  Her response was instantaneous – as if he'd laid the crop to her bottom hole as opposed to something as innocuous as KY. Prima's entire body stiffened, and he saw her eyes go very wide with fright as the realization of what he intended to do hit home, that her trial was not over; he had more humiliation and suffering for her to endure. She quickly used up what little strength she'd been able to build up in the short time since the beating had stopped, all while Joseph tried to calm and soothe her with his voice and his hands, but to no avail.

  Quickly worn out, she was back to shivering and shaking and shuddering, a wild look in her eyes. His big hand roamed up and down the clean line of her back, marveling at the soft expanse of skin beneath the rough tips of his fingers. "Shh, shh, shh, now," he murmured. "Shh, Katherine. It's not going to be as bad as all that. I promise you'll enjoy it. You've earned some pleasure out of this." The expression on her face told him that she didn't believe that she could derive pleasure from what he intended to do to her body. He began moving back into place behind her, talking all the time. "I know this is one of your least favorite things, honey, but if you'll relax, you might find it's at least tolerable." He massaged the small of her back for a few seconds, then carefully framed her crease with his hands, pulling her cheeks apart as he heard a hiss of breath over the bit in her mouth. Joseph indulged himself in the view for a few seconds, then put the broad wet head of his member against her well-lubed butt and began pressing as he said, "Besides, I think you're protesting just a bit too much, don't you?"

  It didn't matter whether Katherine protested or not; she was going to find his rigid pole up her bottom one way or the other.

  "Relax, Katherine," Joseph cajoled in a soft voice that nearly broke with the pleasure of violating her almost virginal asshole. She was so tight around him; this was going to be embarrassingly short! "Arch your back and bear down. Make it easier on yourself."

  Katherine wanted to cry and scream, but although she felt like she was crying, there were no more tears. Screaming was out of the question, also, all of this anguish and no real way to express it. "Make it easier on yourself," sounded so right, so smart, but it smacked to her of…of participation. Of asking to be raped anally by his thick, long cock. Regardless of what she did or didn't do, though, she could feel him making slow progress into her, still holding her spread apart and trying to encourage her to relax. Her body finally took over from her mind entirely and did as he suggested; her back arched all on its own and her sphincter opened more easily for him as she bore down.

  "Good girl!" Joseph praised, his hips flexing, pressing to take advantage of her surprising surrender. He advanced carefully, not wanting to hurt her. "That's my good girl," he murmured as she continued to do as he had said.

  When his balls met the sore backs of her thighs, and he was in her as deep as was humanly possible, he stopped, partly to try to keep control of himself, and partly to give her some time to adjust to his being buried inside her. Joseph leaned over to her ear, hearing another hissing intake of breath as his body and its crinkly hair rubbed over the oh-so-sensitive skin of her roasted bottom. She had stopped shaking, and her breathing in general seemed okay. "See? It's not so bad." His left hand found its way beneath her hips to the front of her slit and her already slick button. When he started rubbing it, Katherine bucked back so hard against him he nearly came. A pained smile touched his lips as he watched her partly overt, partly internal struggle in the mirror. If she tried to avoid his fingers, she impaled herself on his cock. If she moved away from his cock, she moved against his eager fingers. "Caught between a rock and a hard place, aren't you, Prima, my girl?" he asked softly, emphasizing the phrase 'hard place' with a gentle flex of his hips, which, in turn, rubbed her against his fingers.

  Her reactions amazed him, and this one was terribly raw as she caught her breath and issued one of those tortured moans. Joseph moved on her again, withdrawing a couple of inches, then relentlessly driving himself back into her. She shuddered and closed her eyes, sighing raggedly as his fingers dragged over her swollen clitty.

  "Open your eyes, Katherine," he warned and was obeyed with obvious reluctance. He could see that her pupils were dilated, see the sex flush creeping up her neck. She was definitely enjoying this! "Look at my eyes in the mirror, and don't stop looking until I tell you to." This time, he backed almost all the way out and plunged all the way back in one stroke, making her moan almost silently and forget to keep eye contact with him as she tried to wiggle away.

  "Eyes!" he reminded sharply. "Don't forget again, Prima." In silent warning, his right hand found her blistered cheek and pinched her, hard.

  The arching and writhing that pinch caused made the both of them lose total control. She was moving herself unintentionally along his cock and up against those tormenting fingers, then back and forth, and finally, Joseph stopped trying to delay the inevitable and began to take her, roughly, as was his right. He left his fingers right where they were as he forced her to accept him up her bottom, using her and making her love it.

  Katherine fought her orgasm as much as she could, but her body liked what he was doing to it – seeing him bent over her, humping her ass with brutal, powerful strokes, as he, in turn, watched himself rape her – and it was a losing battle, even when he was quite wild with her at the end. The final stroke was a second pinch for looking away that shouldn't have sent her over the edge, but it did. It was the most humiliating thing to happen to her yet – beaten, blistered, bridled, fingered, and raped, her orgasm was so totally overwhelming that she fainted dead away.

  Joseph knew what had happened to her, but his heart leapt to his throat anyway w
hen she went completely limp beneath him, until he recognized she had fainted. Her ultimate pleasure triggered his, and when he was through bathing her insides with his cum, he withdrew, slowly, and cleaned up. Patting her cheek, he brought her around, then, after releasing her, he carried her to their room, which was where they were now.

  "Are you cold? Hot?" he asked solicitously.

  She shook her head. It would be a while before her voice returned.

  He disappeared for a few minutes, coming back with another bottle of water as well as a bowl of something, which he proceeded to feed to her as if she was a coddled child. Chocolate pudding. Her favorite. Katherine tried to take the spoon from him and do it herself, but he wouldn't allow it. When she was done, he gave her the water, which she gulped down gratefully.

  Finished, she settled back on the mattress, her face towards him as he cleaned up then turned off the lights, pulled the shades and turned on a soft, relaxing CD. Finally, he joined her again, pulled her tight into his arms and took up stroking her hair again. Her hair seemed to be somewhat of a fixation with him. Those spiky-fringed eyelids were sinking fast as her cheek pressed up against his warm chest. But before she fell asleep, she would have sworn she heard him say, "You are the most amazing woman I've ever known. You are my treasure; you're worth everything I paid for you and more, and I'll never ever let you go."