Just in time, I remembered to ask permission to come and J’s voice was deep and rough when he commanded, “Come for me, Allie!”
The intense orgasm grabbed ahold of me immediately and I shook violently against him as he found his own release inside of me. It wasn’t until I was unbound and sitting, still naked, in his lap that I realized he had used my real name.
My heart pounds as I reach for my wine glass and take a few refreshing sips of the crisp Riesling. I’m sure it was a meaningless slip, but the way his voice sounded as he shouted my name repeats over and over in my head.
This is why I need to cut this off now. I’m afraid I’ll begin to dissect every little thing, to find meaning in every look, every gesture.
In three weeks, I’ve fallen hard for this man, and in another three, I’m afraid he will own my heart and soul for good. That would be fine if I had any reason to believe he wanted them. Aside from the obvious “Caroline complication,” I’m sure everything would work out okay if the interest was mutual. Unfortunately, I’m just a paying client who will be replaced by the next “intriguing profile” that comes along.
Berating myself, I finish the glass of wine and head to the kitchen to pour another. I should have run far away the moment I realized Jesse was Master J. Nothing good can come from this, but I don’t have the strength to make the phone call that will put a stop to it all.
Tipping the bottle toward my glass, I’m surprised to see the last few drops trickle out. I’ve been too lost in thought to realize I’d drunk the entire thing. I glance at the clock and curse loudly when I realize it’s almost time to leave for tonight’s session.
I hurry through my required shower and beauty regimen before trying to get dressed. My fingers are clumsy on the buttons and I teeter slightly as I put on the suddenly ridiculous high heels.
Realizing that it would be reckless and stupid to drive myself tonight, I put in a frantic call to the local cab company. Luckily, there is a car nearby that can be here in about ten minutes.
Furiously brushing mascara on my lashes, I finish primping and gather my things. Phone? Check. Keys? Check. Heart? Oops. I forgot. He already has that.
The cabbie honks just a few minutes later and I wobble out to the car. I hear myself slur the address in the driver’s general direction and I slump into the seat, resigning myself to this drunken state.
Before I can blink twice, we’re pulling up outside the building. I thank the driver, handing him what I’m pretty sure is way too much money before climbing out of the car. My heels came off sometime during the ride, so I carry them with me; I’m not putting these things back on until I have to.
I glance at my phone and swear under my breath when I realize I am already ten minutes late. It will take me about five more minutes to get from this parking lot to a kneeling position on the designated pillow. As much as I ended up enjoying that first punishment, I’ve been conscientious about being on time since. The look on Master J’s face when I displease him hurts much more than the flogger ever could.
Running through the entrance, I hit the elevator button a bit harder than is necessary and internally beg Saint Otis to send his machine to me as quickly as possible. When the door finally opens, I practically fall inside and frantically swipe at the buttons. Luck is uncharacteristically on my side as my hand somehow finds the right one and the doors close me in.
As I reach the door to the suite, I stop for a second to take a deep breath, smooth my long braid, and put the heels back on.
The moment my hand touches the doorknob, the door is yanked open from within. Master J grabs my arms and yanks me inside, growling, “You’re late!” in a voice that’s both angry and disappointed all at once.
“I thought we talked about this on the first night, Lila.”
“We did, Sir. I…”
“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve been coming to me long enough to know that talking won’t do you any good. When you earn a punishment, that’s on you. Don’t waste any more of my time with your foolish attempts at making excuses.”
I’d expected the disappointment and maybe a small amount of actual anger, but the acidic words that spew forth from Master J shock me. Perhaps tonight, he’s planned a lesson in humility or some such principle. I suppose I’ve made it easier for him to begin by starting the night out with the need for punishment.
Swallowing the tears that threaten to fall, I answer with a meek, “Yes, Sir.”
“I expect to find you completely naked and kneeling in your usual spot in the next sixty seconds.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Master J disappears into the inner room and I fumble frantically to begin unbuttoning my blouse. Although my scolding has made me feel a tiny bit less fuzzy mentally, my hands haven’t gotten the message. They’re still just as drunk as they ever were. Thank God, Master J didn’t take the time to get too close to me; I’m sure I smell like a winery. Coming to a session drunk would probably earn me one hell of a punishment.
I manage to shed the rest of my clothing and fold it somewhat neatly. I leave it on a chair and move quickly into the inner room. Looking down at my usual spot, my heart thuds heavily in my chest as I realize the pillow that has always been there has been replaced by a pile of uncooked rice. Surely he can’t mean for me to kneel on this? I’ve heard of this as a child’s punishment in certain cultures, but never had to do it myself. I suppose if all those children can get through it, then I can manage. I kneel gently on the hard grains and instantly wince at their sharp bite. My mind is screaming for me to get up and make the pain end, but I know I deserve this punishment. Deciding it’s mind over matter, I breathe slowly and concentrate on keeping my legs apart, hands clasped behind my head and breasts out. Legs apart, hands clasped behind my head, breasts out. Legs apart…
I lose track of how many times I repeat those directions to myself. I feel wobbly and a little sick from the belly full of wine; tears are threatening to spill down my face. I’m sure I look like a complete mess right now. My head is bowed the entire time, so it’s Master J’s bare feet that come in to view first. I start to raise my eyes toward him, but he puts his hand on the top of my head and pushes it back down. He has never cut off eye contact with me before. We’ve talked about it; he’s told me that some Doms prefer that their subs never look them in the eye. He said he was different, that he liked to see both the pain and the pleasure flashing through his sub’s expression and would only deny eye contact if it was warranted. He must be angrier with me than I thought. He can’t know yet that I had contemplated canceling these sessions, and I can’t imagine that my being late has caused this level of ire. I have no idea what else I could have done to make him so mad, but my body begins to tremble as I realize just how upset he must be.
Master J doesn’t say a word, but squats down in front of me, grabbing my breasts and twisting them painfully. I’m already on edge from the rice and the tears finally spill over with the added pain. Reaching between my legs, he slaps my sex roughly several times before roughly sliding two fingers inside of me. Between the tough punishment and the mood my Master is in, I’m not a bit turned on, so it’s a bit uncomfortable to have him in there.
He must notice how unusually dry I am because he pulls his fingers from me and brings them to my face, pressing them against my lips. I open my mouth and he pushes them to the back of my throat, causing me to gag a little bit. He thrusts them in and out before removing them and sliding them into me once again. It’s a little easier this time and when his thumb rubs my clit, I almost start to feel pleasure. As he thrusts harder, though, it causes my body to rock back and forth on the rice and the pain erases any pleasure there might have been.
He pulls his fingers out of me again and unzips his pants, dropping them to his ankles. His cock stands at full attention and instead of his fingers, the huge erection is pressed against my lips. I open my mouth and begin to suck gently on the tip, trying to work my way down his length. Instead of allowing me to work it myself, h
e holds my head still and thrusts into my mouth roughly. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat repeatedly and it’s all I can do not to lose the rest of the wine all over the floor. Finally, he pulls out of my mouth and begins to pump his cock with his own fist. I keep my mouth open, waiting for him to finish, but he aims instead for my breasts, shooting his load all over them.
At this point, I have drool running from my mouth, tears leaking from my eyes and his ejaculate all over my chest. He walks away from me and I’m not surprised when he returns with a wet cloth, roughly growling at me to clean up.
This is nothing like what I’ve gotten used to with Jess – Master J. He has always come inside me or in my mouth and when I’ve needed cleaning up, he’s always tended to me himself. I wrack my brain trying to figure out what happened, but I run out of time to think as I’m ordered to stand.
Getting off the rice is nearly as painful as getting on. The blood rushes back into my knees and they burn as I stand shakily. I pray that Master J doesn’t notice the slight drunken wobble, but he must attribute it to the pain because he makes no mention of it. I can only imagine how intense his anger would get if I piled yet another transgression on top of whatever I’ve already done.
“Go to the spanking bench,” he orders.
I had hoped that the rice and the rough treatment were enough punishment for now, but apparently, he hasn’t finished with me. If Master J spanks or flogs me for pleasure, it’s never on the spanking bench. Sometimes it’s on the St. Andrew’s cross, sometimes over his knee, sometimes just standing there in the middle of the room, but the spanking bench is always for punishment.
The wooden bench has two cushioned areas where I am to place my knees and I wince as the sore flesh takes my weight again. The cushions are far enough apart that my ass and sex are fully exposed when I’m up there. I lean forward to bend my body along the bare wooden frame and place my hands along the sides. I know that since my hands aren’t bound already, they will be strapped into the leather cuffs affixed to the sides of the bench.
Sure enough, Master J leans in to strap my wrists tightly to the wooden frame. Normally, he kisses me as he does this, but today, he barely gets close enough to work the straps. Tears fill my eyes again as I miss the affection that has always been there, even during punishment.
I hear a swooshing sound from across the room, followed by another and another. My body grows cold as I realize my Master is choosing a cane to use on me. I’ve experienced several things so far including his hand, a riding crop, a flogger, and a paddle, but never the cane. I can’t say that’s something I wanted to experience any time soon; the cane has always intimidated me. I always thought it’s something we would work up to gradually and it scares me that he will be using it the first time when he’s clearly so angry with me.
For the first time ever, I feel real fear as Master J approaches me with his chosen instrument. I don’t know if the alcohol is interfering with my ability to process what’s happening to me or if it’s just the change in my Master’s demeanor that is frightening the hell out of me.
I hear the swooshing sound again, this time it sounds as though it is right next to my ear. Master J runs his hand roughly over my ass cheeks, spanking them a few times each until they begin to feel hot. He stops and gives one last swish of the cane before bringing it down across my ass. The fire that rips across my skin is like nothing I’ve ever felt before and I can’t stop the scream that escapes from my throat.
“You’ll get ten of these. You will count each one out loud immediately or I will repeat it. Is that understood?”
I squeak out a feeble “Yes, Sir. One,” wishing my hands were free to wipe the tears from my face. Ten of these? I could barely stand the first one, how on earth will I take nine more?
Another stripe of fire burns me, this time across the back of my thighs. The simple tears turn to racking sobs as I manage to say, “Two.”
There is no time to catch my breath before my ass lights up again and I begin to hyperventilate. Master J is usually so good at reading my cues that I’m sure he will stop this madness now, but instead he says, “As you have failed to count out loud, that last one will not count. Let’s try again, shall we?”
I don’t get the chance to answer before another stroke of the horrid instrument lands on my ass, and this time, instead of a number, I find myself shouting “Monkey! Monkey! Please, Sir, Monkey!”
I hear the cane drop to the floor and for a moment, nothing happens. Master J doesn’t move, but stands there as I sob into the hard wood of the bench. Suddenly, he lunges toward me, unbuckling the straps holding my hands as quickly as he can. He helps me up and then lifts me from my feet, carrying me baby-style toward the bed. Laying me on my side, he says, “It’s okay, baby. Shhh, it’s okay. Lie on your stomach.”
I barely hear him, but I understand what he wants and I roll over, putting my hands beneath the pillow and continuing to cry quietly. Master J is gone for a long moment before returning to the bedside. I can’t look at him, so it surprises me when he touches the tender flesh of my ass cheeks and I try to pull away.
“Relax, baby, I’m just putting some salve on your marks. This will help the pain go away and also help them heal faster.”
“Am I bleeding?” I don’t know why that’s the first thing I ask, but it just comes out.
“No, you’re not bleeding. You have welts, but I didn’t hit hard enough to break the skin, Al.”
“Don’t use my name,” I snap.
The last time he called me Allie in here, it was a flicker of hope. This time, we’re angry with each other. I’ve used my safeword and his use of my name feels sort of final. It feels as though Master J and Lila are done and Jesse is left mending Allison before he can wash his hands of her.
“I’m so sorry,” was his reply.
Sorry for what? For using my name? For being angry and pushing me too hard? I can take a punishment when there is care and sexual play behind it, but this? This just felt like a beating from an angry man who was in a position to hurt me.
When he had finished rubbing the salve on the welts, Jesse came around and climbed into bed next to me. I turned on my side to look at him and there were tears in his eyes. Sliding closer to me, he brushed his hand along my hair and leaned in to kiss my cheek. Putting his nose to my hair, he breathed in before pulling away from me suddenly and shouting, “Fuck!”
My eyes went wide at his outburst and I tried to sit up. My ass cheeks were too sore, so I settled for an awkward half-sitting position as I looked at him.
“Jesse, what happened?”
“Allison, have you been drinking?” He practically yelled the words as he raked his hand roughly through his hair. “What the fuck were you thinking? Why would you come to a session drunk? Sure, I acted like an asshole and I’m sorry, but fuck, Allison! We’ll talk about that in a minute. First, I want to say that alcohol and BDSM do not mix. Ever. Not in my book. Too many things can go wrong. What if you had been too drunk to use your safeword? What if sucking my cock was too much for you and you needed to breathe, or, more likely, throw up? If you’re drunk, you lose the ability to decide whether something is too much!”
“I used my safeword, didn’t I? I knew the cane was too much!”
“You’d been here for an hour by then. You were probably a lot more sober than when you got here. Right now, you reek of alcohol. Had I gotten close enough, I probably would have smelled it before, but I was pissed at you for being late and for… Well, I was pissed. Allison, I caned you because, angry as I was, I thought you could handle it. You took the rice punishment with barely a wince and you took my cock down your throat without a single reservation. I didn’t think you were being affected enough, so I stepped it up a notch. I’d only planned to use a paddle, but I wanted to see you in real pain, in punishment pain.”
“You’ve punished me several times before and it was nothing like this. How was I supposed to know…”
“It doesn’t matter if you
know what’s going to happen ahead of time. It matters that you have your wits about you and that you can respond to any situation that arises. Tonight’s punishment was different. You arrived incredibly late, so I was already pissed at you. Not to mention, well, the rest of it, which includes the sleepy look on your face when you arrived at the door. I know now that it was probably the booze putting that look on your face, but to me it seemed that you just didn’t care tonight. It seemed like you had checked out. I wanted to punish you for checking out on me when I l… When I look so forward to our sessions. I’m sorry it went so far, Allison, I really am, but I see this a little differently now that I know you were drunk when you got here.”
“I see things a little differently now, too, Jesse.” I said his full name with enough emphasis that he raised his brow. “I see that you used your position as my trusted Master to punish me for not only what I know I did wrong, but also some unknown transgression that you obviously don’t feel like sharing with me. I’m sorry that I drank before coming here. I was trying to get the courage to call and cancel these sessions, so I drank a bottle of wine and decided to go for it and show up anyway! Well, I have the courage now, Jesse Marks, and I’m done with this. Thank you for the introduction to this way of life. I’ve found a lot of things I love here. I’ve also found that my trust in you only goes so far. You have secrets you don’t want to share with me right now, and that’s fine, but it means that the openness I felt this relationship had is one-sided, and that isn’t okay with me.”
“Allie, I…”
“No, Jesse. We’ve talked enough. It was a mistake to come here drunk and for that, I apologize. I’ll call Kara in the morning to send me termination papers. We won’t discuss this again. If we run into each other out there” —I point toward the door— “then this never happened.”
During my tirade, I got to my feet and looked around, realizing that I had left my clothes in the outer room. I also realized that I do not have my car, so I will have to stand stupidly outside the building and wait for a ride. I practically run toward the door and fling it open, grabbing the outfit that suddenly seems way too skimpy and putting it on with shaking hands. I’d expected Jesse to come after me, to at least try to finish talking to me, but it seems he doesn’t even care that much. I glance back into the inner room and he’s still standing near the bed, just staring at the floor. I button my shirt all the way to the top and pull the skirt as low as it will go, but I still feel naked. I swipe at the mascara I’m sure is there under my eyes and dig my phone out of my bag.
Please, Sir Page 5