Spirit

by Ashe Barker

  “Then stand up please and touch your toes, Beth. And don’t move until I tell you to.”

  I get to my feet and step away from the table. By unspoken agreement we both know the remains of the pizza will still be here later, as long as Ethel doesn’t manage to break in here. We’ll take that risk. I lean forward, bending at the waist to reach for my feet. I plant my hands on the rug in front of me, enjoying the tingle of tension in the lowest part of my belly as I listen to him unbuckling his belt and sliding it out from the belt loops on his finely creased dress trousers. He moves to stand behind me, and I half-expect a sensual caress across the globes of my upturned bottom.

  The whistle of his belt flying through the air is the precursor to an explosion of white heat moments later. I gasp, then sigh. The pain across both my buttocks is pure, cleansing, even more refreshing than my shower earlier. I shift my weight form one foot to the other, my body shivering in heady delight. Matt waits.

  “Sir, could you please do that again?”

  “Of course, my sweet. I’ll tell you what, I’ll carry on until you tell me to stop. Would you like that?”

  I don’t usually want to control my spankings in this way. I prefer to let Matt call the tune, treat me as he pleases. I trust him, I know he will never go too far. Even at his most severe, Matt is always unfailingly considerate, and polite. Gentle even, in a weird, brutal sort of way. He’s never rough, and at the first hint of resistance or struggle on my part he stops, always checking, always talking. There is never so much as the merest hint of coercion with Matt.

  By inviting me to set the limits of this though, he is signalling that I will not get to do so later. I accept that, sinking deeper into my submissive fog.

  I hold my position as Matt rains stroke after stroke across my delicate buttocks, each stripe with his belt sending a searing pain across my bum. I imagine the red wheals, glowing, blossoming, and I hope they’ll still be there to be seen tomorrow, though they rarely are.

  I count, for no better reason than I like to experience the cloudy, fuzzy sensation as the numbers eventually slip away from me, dancing just out of reach as I struggle to catch them. I know, the moment I lose touch with them entirely, that it’s time to call a halt. I want my senses to be sharp enough to savour the intensity of what’s to come, not blunted by endorphins.

  “Enough, sir. Stop now, please.”

  The breathy whistle of the belt flying through the air stops, and the room is silent but for my sighs, and Matt’s slightly raised breathing. He drops the belt on the floor by my feet. I see it curling on the rug, the stiff black leather shiny and dark against the soft sheepskin. He shifts to stand close by me, looping one arm around my waist, his hand underneath me, palm against my stomach, With his other hand he massages my blistered bottom, soft at first, his touch delicate, gossamer light. Then it becomes heavier, his fingers pressing on my smarting bum as though to work the burn right in. The sensation softens from the heat of the spanking to a deeper, more satisfying ache which sinks into my very bones. Matt curls his fingers to scratch at my skin with his nails, paying particular attention to the sorest places. It feels heavenly and I lift my bottom higher for him, wishing he might never stop.

  As he slips his hand into the crevasse between my cheeks I spread my legs, my pussy positively drooling in liquid welcome. Matt slides the flat of his hand the length of my cunt, gathering my wetness and smearing that across my tingling backside.

  “Loving this, little slut? Yes?”

  “Yes, sir. So much.”

  “Me too. I want you to stand up now.”

  “Sir?” I know better than to protest, my brief interlude of control is over. But still, the effort of moving, and the loss of this sweet caress is painful to contemplate.

  “Hold on to me if you need to, and stand up straight.” Matt’s hands under my chest help me to ease back upright, though I’m glad of his steadying arms. I manage a smile as my head clears a little.

  “Take these up to the bedroom…” He hands me a small, clear bottle which he had in his pocket, and a butt plug. This is the peppermint oil. I clutch it in one fist while I peruse the butt plug in my other hand. It’s one we’ve used before, the largest one I’ve managed to tolerate so far, and that with difficulty.

  “Go upstairs, grab a towel from the bathroom on the way. A large one. Spread it on the bed, then kneel in the centre of it. While you wait for me I want you to smear some of the oil on your nipples, a generous coating, as much as you can manage. Then coat the butt plug in the oil too.”

  “I understand. Do you want me to lubricate my arse as well?”

  “No. I’ll do that. When I come in I expect to see you leaning forward, your face on the bed and your bum in the air ready for me. Your knees need to be as wide apart as you can manage. When you’re nice and comfortable place your hands in the small of your back and I’ll tie them there.”

  “Why are you tying me up? I won’t try to move.”

  “Ah, baby I think you will. You’ll be wriggling and screaming something delightful. If you don’t, I’ll know I need to put more peppermint in the oil. Somehow I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

  “This is strong stuff, then?” I shake the contents, sending them splashing around the small bottle.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, now would I?”

  “I don’t believe you ever would, sir.”

  He drops a kiss on my forehead, and pats my bottom. “Go, girl. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  In the bedroom I do as I’ve been instructed, draping a large bath towel over the bed, then another for good measure. I scramble into the middle and unscrew the top off the bottle. I pour a little oil onto my fingers and smear it across my right nipple. The chilly heat of it warms the swelling bud instantly. I repeat on the other side, then take a moment to rub the oil in. It smarts, the sensation increasing as the oil penetrates the delicate skin. I stiffen, allow the tingling to build and sear, then subside slightly as my body accepts what is happening. At that moment I tip up the bottle again and re-apply it.

  The scent is delightful, filling the room, in sharp and cruel contrast to the ferocious prickling now seeping right into my pebbled nipples. I practise breathing deep and evenly, allow my body to adjust again. This is enough.

  I pour a little of the oil into a saucer I grabbed from the kitchen on my way upstairs, and drop the butt plug into it. I roll it around, making sure there is no part of it which is not covered in the oil. My gut twists, the pain in my nipples is nothing compared to how this will feel inside me. Matt knew I would realise that, make the comparison, and this is why he instructed me to apply it and wait for him. He wants me to have time to sweat, to let my apprehension build. It’s working.

  I place the saucer with the butt plug in it on the bedside table and take up the position required by Matt. I’ve only just settled in place when I hear his footsteps on the stairs from the hallway below. I twist my neck to peer at him over my shoulder. He’s removed his shirt, but still has his trousers on. I notice he’s barefoot though, and the button on his trousers is undone.

  My pussy clenches. He looks so deliciously sexy, so rumpled but still sharp, still in control. When he prowls around the room looking like that I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t let him, no, beg him to do to me.

  He picks up the bottle of oil from beside the saucer, glancing at it, then at my waiting arse.

  “Should I warm this, Beth?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “No, I don’t think so. It’ll feel warm enough, especially inside…” He slips the bottle back into his pants pocket before opening the lid of the blanket box at the foot of the bed. He takes out a pair of leather cuffs and tosses them onto the towel.

  “These, I think.”

  He closes the box and walks around to sit on the bed beside me, leaning across casually to grab the cuffs. He says nothing as he fastens them around my wrists, then uses the built-in clips to link them to
gether. I prefer leather cuffs to rope, and these ones are lined in some sort of soft fabric so they are comfortable to wear despite being quite tight. I don’t like metal handcuffs much and we rarely use them.

  I flex my wrists inside the cuffs, and find their lack of any give oddly satisfying. I’m restrained, I can relinquish any sense of control or responsibility now. Matt will do what he wants, and in so doing give me what I need. This is sir time.

  “You’ve done a good job of lubing the plug. I reckon it could just go straight in. What do you think, Beth?”

  “Whatever you say, sir.” Thank God I was thorough.

  “Yeah, maybe. But we both enjoy this part, don’t we, little slut?” He parts my butt cheeks and inserts one unlubed finger into my arse. He presses hard and it slips right inside as I instinctively push back against him. I stifle a groan as he pulls his finger back and plunges it in again.

  “Cute arse, love. So receptive.”

  “Aagh, yes. Yes, sir.” It’s difficult to concentrate as he finger-fucks my arse hard, adding a second finger as my anus loosens. His actions are gentle but very firm, he’s in a no-nonsense mood. I appreciate his care. He’s opening me for the plug to make it a little easier for me.

  “How are your nipples?”

  “Hot, sir.”

  “Mmm, I have the very thing for you. Once this plug’s in I’ll show you what I mean.”

  He pulls his fingers out, and reaches for the saucer. I flinch as he touches me again, this time with fingertips coated in the peppermint oil. He circles my anus, and smears it across my labia too. As the icy burn radiates across my most sensitive skin all my instincts scream at me at once to close my legs, but I squash that impulse. I hold still, breathing hard and deep through my mouth as the sensation washes through me. I can do this, and I know from past experience that once the initial shock of the unfamiliar dissipates, the heightened sensitivity it creates making every touch, every slightest breath of contact, excruciating in its exquisite intensity.

  Even so, despite my resolve, the first ripple of sensation as he inserts one lubed finger into me makes me cry out. Christ, this is hard.

  Matt stops, but doesn’t remove his finger. He keeps it still as my arse contracts hard around it, my own movements now turning up the heat. I know that in theory at least I can control the intensity to some extent by relaxing my muscles, by not clenching. I have never managed to do so. My arse is one of my most erogenous zones, anything goes in there and I’m clenching like mad, my clit swelling and pulsating. I get desperate. Fast.

  Matt allows me a few moments to adjust, then he sinks his finger right in, working the cool burn against my inner tissues. I whimper, the pain is close to unbearable but I don’t even consider safe wording. Not for a moment. The intimacy of these moments, my total vulnerability, and my absolute trust make for a heady submissive cocktail. I relax into the scene, lifting my bottom higher.

  “Good girl. I love you.”

  Matt’s murmured words are all the affirmation I need. I almost purr as he reaches for the plug.

  He pushes the blunt tip against my unresisting opening, and presses it forward. I know to push back, and as I do so I will my body to open for him. In moments the large plug slips past my outer ring of muscle and embeds inside me, my anus closing around the narrowed neck to hold it in place.

  The heat takes a few seconds to register, then it hits me, white hot and ice cold at the same time, a bizarre, almost indescribable sensation. I let out a scream and fall forward onto the mattress, squirming against the restraining cuffs. Matt was right, if he hadn’t fastened my hands behind me I’d be trying to pull the plug out myself.

  Matt stretches out alongside me and pulls me into his arms, my back against his chest, my bum to his groin. His trousers scrape my still tender buttocks as I rub myself against him, my movements jerking, frantic.

  “Okay. You’re okay, Beth. I have you. Relax and let it happen.”

  His voice is low, soothing, his quiet confidence penetrating the chaos of conflicting sensations to calm me. I stop moaning and wriggling, and manage to lie still in his arms.

  “Sir? Sir, I need…”

  “I know. I know. Tell me about your nipples, love. How are they feeling now? Still hot?” He palms my right breast and rubs the nipple hard, as though to test the temperature for himself.

  “Agh, yes, sir. Still hot!”

  “Oh, good.” He stands up, looking down at me, his expression firming again, the stern dom look. “I want you to kneel up now. Shoulders back, present your breasts to me.”

  I manage to obey him, all the while my inner tissues spasming and contracting, stretched tight against the hard surface of the butt plug filling my arse. Waves of pain pulse through me as I try to subdue the crashing riot of sensation. It feels like the sensual equivalent of din, like an orchestra where all the instruments are sounding forth at once, but with no reference or regard to each other. Not tuneful, not music, just a din.

  “Get your head around what’s happening. Own it. Ride with it.”

  I nod, still feeling more than a little overwhelmed as Matt steps away from the bed, heading for the small drinks fridge he bought a few weeks ago to make sure we always have chilled water in here. He grabs a small bottle of water and a glass and pours himself a drink. I’m puzzled, we usually drink straight from the bottle, but I have greater problems to worry about as my arse throbs mercilessly. I’m having to kneel up, my bottom raised as I don’t dare relax my weight onto my heels, or the bed, for fear of moving the plug and starting all the sensual cacophony off again.

  Matt drags the ice-making tray from the freezer compartment and shakes out a couple of ice cubes, dropping them into his glass of water. He comes back to the bed, the ice rattling against the tumbler. Standing in front of me he takes a drink, and manages to snag an ice cube between his teeth. He sucks on it as he reaches for my left breast, taking the nipple between his finger and thumb. He squeezes, re-igniting the fire of sensation there.

  With a smile he sits next to me, turning my body to face him. He leans in and takes my sore nipple between his lips, pushing the ice cube against the swollen bud with his tongue. It feels heavenly, I let my head drop back and I sigh. I arch my back, pressing my nipple harder against the ice.

  Matt straightens, then cups my right breast in his hand. This time he strokes my nipple, the pad of his thumb gentle against my skin. The heat is there, but less intense and I experience a perverse disappointment that the relief to come will be reduced in proportion. Such is the power of a BDSM mind-fuck.

  The ice still in his mouth, Matt leans in to suck on my right nipple. This time it is the soft chill of his mouth which soothes my discomfort, the cool caress achingly tender as he wraps his tongue around the distended peak, flicking and lapping at it. This time I allow my head to drop forward, I kiss the back of his head.

  “I love you, sir.”

  I feel his lips curl into a smile, though he does not break contact with my breast.

  For several minutes he alternates between each of my nipples, the cold of his caress drawing the tingle from my skin to leave a damp, satisfied glow behind. At last, the ice cube dissolved, he stands up again.

  “How’s the plug feeling now?”

  “It’s not so bad now, sir. As long as I don’t squeeze.”

  “Turn around. Show me.”

  I shuffle until I have my back to him, then I lean forward and lift up my bum. I let out a yelp as Matt takes the protruding finger-grip and twists the plug inside me. He pushes it to one side, then swirls it, ensuring it rubs against every part of my inner walls. The yelp turns into a scream.

  “Better. We wouldn’t want you becoming complacent, would we? I’m going to fuck your arse with the plug, then with my cock. It’s not meant to feel nice, but you’re going to let me do it anyway. I do expect you to be very vocal though, girl. I’m looking forward to that.”

  I don’t think I disappoint as he manipul
ates the huge plug inside me and I whimper with each fresh wave of heat as it engulfs my body. My arse clenches, quite beyond my control, and with every internal contraction the pain deepens, radiates, penetrates further.

  “Yellow, sir.” I shriek my safe word at him, as he surely knew I would if he maintained the relentless pressure long enough. Matt stops, and it is only then I realise I am trembling.

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “No, sir. But could I have a break please? Just a minute or so?”

  “Yes, of course.” He releases the clip holding my wrists together, though he doesn’t remove the cuffs. “Roll onto your back and relax. Take your time, there’s no hurry. Then you can rest until you tell me you’re ready to carry on.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I shift gingerly onto my back, taking care not to disturb the plug any more than I can help. I lift my knees so that my spine curves, raising my bottom from the mattress. The position is comfortable, or as much as it could be in the circumstances, as long as I don’t move.

  Matt offers me a drink from the water remaining in the bottle. I shake my head. He puts the bottle back in the fridge, then comes to lie alongside me.

  “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

  “Really? I feel like a wimp. Asking for a time out.”

  “You’re wrong. I know this is hard, but you’re a natural. So determined. Such a sweet subbie, I can’t believe I didn’t see it straight away.”

  “I didn’t know, why would you?”

  “It’s my job to know. A dom thing.”

  I lie in silence for a few moments, considering. Then, “I didn’t expect to like it. This. Not really.”

  “No?”

  “No. But I was curious. And I wanted you. So much. I always wanted you.”

  He cups my chin with his hand and turns my face towards his. His expression now is gentle, warm. My stomach quivers, driven by something much more powerful than mere lust. He brushes his lips across mine, then breathes his reply into my ear. “I want you too.”

  “You have me.”

  “I phrased that badly. I love you.”