by Ashe Barker
“I keep my promises, sweetheart. I had it delivered and installed here, though. More room.”
He watches me, and I daresay my emotions are plainly displayed in my expression. I never could keep anything to myself. So now there’s trepidation, surprise, curiosity, anticipation, but all of these are overshadowed by absolute terror. He sees, beckons me over. I don’t move. I’m rooted to the spot.
“Ashley, come here.”
The Dom tone brooks no argument. My feet move of their own accord, carrying me toward him. And now, I’m in front of him, staring at his trainers. He waits for me to look at him, and when I don’t he commands it. I raise my eyes, silently pleading with him to—what? To let this pass, to not force me to do this? Or maybe I’m begging him to allow me to get it over with, to just strap me to that cross and whip me. That’s not going to happen, though. I know he won’t force me, he never does. It will be my choice. And my choice is to please Tom, or try to.
Intuitive as ever, he asks me what I’m most afraid of. I look at him scornfully, he quirks one sardonic Dom eyebrow in warning but doesn’t press the matter of my disrespect at this time.
“What, Ashley? Think, tell me.”
“It bloody well hurts. You know it does. How would you like it?”
“I wouldn’t like it, but I’m not a submissive. You are.”
“Am I? I’m not much of one…” I drop my gaze again, but this time he catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilts my face up, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“No, Ashley, that’s not true. You’re good, very good. You’re going to be excellent. Whether you accept my whip or not, you will still be a first-rate submissive. Is that clear? Understood? Do you believe me?”
“How can I be? You want this and I can’t, can’t…”
“Maybe you can, maybe not. We’ll find out, I guess. Tell me this, though. If I could offer you a pill, just one little pill that you could take and this pill would be all you needed to make you able to do this, to do anything at all I ask you to do. If that little pill would, what, toughen you up? Give you the strength, the courage, the whatever… And what if I can guarantee you that it always works, no side effects. Would you take it, Ashley?”
Baffled, I stare at him for long moments, thinking about the bizarre ‘what if?’ Then, “Yes, obviously. Of course I would. Fool proof, you said? No nasty side effects, you said? No tricks?”
“No tricks, perfect solution. If it existed, would you take it?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Okay, so what does that tell us then?”
I frown, considering hard. Grappling for something but unsure what it is.
Helpful as ever, Tom continues. “What it tells me, Ashley, is that you do genuinely want this, you want to be the submissive you imagine I need, but the process of getting there is too hard, too painful. You want it to ‘be done’, but the doing is the stumbling block. That’s what’s too hard. Am I right? Does that sound right to you?” His tone was serious, but softer, less the Dom, more the patient tutor and mentor, trying to help me become what I want to be, to see myself being more than I am.
I nod dumbly. He is right, well almost. If I could just somehow magic myself there, become an experienced submissive, like Abbie perhaps, able to handle anything, I’d love that, I’d love to be that person. But the work, the pain and the suffering I’ll have to go through on the journey just terrifies me. At least now, though, I can see the prize. And—most important, most significant of all—it’s a prize I want for myself. In that light bulb moment—I do seem to be having a lot of these nowadays—I realize it’s not just to please Tom, to be what I think he wants. This is for me, but I’m going to have to work for it.
But hey, I understand work, I understand struggle and tenacity. I’ve overcome bigger obstacles than this bloody lump of wood and Tom’s whip, and I’ve done that alone. This time, I’ll have help. Now, I’m unstoppable. Tom won’t have to force me, not even persuade me. He’d just better stand aside or I’ll knock him down in my rush!
“I can do it. I can do it now. Now, Tom. Please. Quick, I might never be this strong again.”
Even as I was saying the words I’m frantically unbuttoning my blouse, fumbling, clumsy in my rush to get naked. Tom chuckles, reaches for me and holds my fluttering fingers still while he looks at me, holds my eager gaze. The Dom is back, firm but also tender. And there’s something else there too. Admiration maybe, approval definitely. And—certainty.
His words confirm it. “Yes, you will be this strong again. Whenever you need to be. I’m going to see to it that you are. Do you believe that. Ashley?”
“Yes. I do. I absolutely do.” I smile at him, borrow his usual phrase, “Now, are you ready to proceed?”
Chapter Twelve
It doesn’t take long to get me in position. I’m naked, my wrists strapped firmly to the upper two points of the cross about three feet apart. My ankles are similarly secured, my legs spread wide. The obvious possibilities are not lost on me, and I’m starting to become wet thinking about it. Maybe he’ll just…before we start… A little warm-up perhaps. Great minds think alike—or is that fools seldom differ? Whatever, I sigh as Tom’s skilled fingers slide between my legs from behind and slip smoothly inside me. He thrusts twice, hard, then withdraws his fingers to circle my clit.
“Oh, God, that’s good…” My words are little more than a sigh as I lean my weight forward, supported by the cross in front of me.
“Mmm, it is. And there’s going to be a lot of this, baby.” The pressure increases, his fingers firmer now as they roll my clit mercilessly.
I start to climax, but he suddenly stops, instead thrusting his fingers back inside me. As I start to protest he simply kisses the back of my neck, bared by my hair tied as always at the back of my head, this time my submissive coiffure executed by Tom after I was strapped to the cross. He’s relaxing his normal rules today, in many ways.
He withdraws his fingers again but this time he slides them backwards to quickly insert one into my anus. I gasp but don’t resist. I’m well used to this by now and I quite like it. I’m not sure I could come with this alone but it makes everything else so much more—intense. Yes, a definite plus. I sigh, wriggle my bottom in approval. Tom’s arms are around me and he uses his free hand to trail a shivering caress across my breasts and belly before dropping it lower to reach for my throbbing clitoris. This time he doesn’t stop, and within a few seconds I’m climaxing, the mad firework display exploding in my head. I clench and shudder with the impact of it, the sensuous waves of pleasure tingling through me, I close my eyes, my head dropping back against Tom’s shoulder as I moan my thanks. His lips are on my neck, and he scrapes my skin lightly with his teeth. He deepens the pressure, sucking my skin into his mouth. I know he’ll leave a mark. I smile privately—I’ve just had my first lovebite.
I drift back to rejoin Tom in the here and now. He smoothly withdraws his finger from my bum, only to replace it immediately with something cool and hard and throbbing. A butt plug. He pushes it firmly inside me, then stands back to let me explore this new sensation. It’s weird. But sort of wonderful too. It’s not very big, maybe not even as big as his finger, and my tight arse closes around it. I lean into the cross, my cheek resting against the wooden frame. I sense Tom move away from me and, with an effort, I open my eyelids. He’s across the room, rinsing his hands at a small vanity sink in the corner. Always hygiene-conscious, I expect it comes from spending so much time in messy barns. He’s quickly back beside me, his customary bottle of water ready to moisten my lips. I accept but realize my mouth is not dry. I’m scared, yes, probably. Or maybe a better description is apprehensive. But I’m certainly no longer terrified.
“How many strokes?” I need to ask, I need to pace myself through it. But I have no doubt now that I can.
“Three.”
I’m astonished. Disappointed even. Only three? “But, that’s nothing. I managed five back at Greystones…”
>
“Yes, so three’s a doddle, a cert. Nailed on, if you’ll pardon the biblical reference.”
He glances wryly at the cross and I can’t contain my smile. Who’d have thought I could joke about this? The Reader’s Digest were right about laughter being the best medicine.
He continues, explaining his strategy. “We do three, then I think it’ll be time for another orgasm, by way of celebration. Or two. I might just fuck you if you ask me very nicely. Then, if you feel like it, another three strokes. Then more fucking, maybe try out some more butt plugs. Then, possibly, just possibly, four strokes. Or maybe five, we’ll see. But no more, not yet. You can safe word if you want to, you know that. Always. But I don’t think you’ll be needing to this time. I think we’ll stop while you’re still wanting more. And if you do want more, I’ll give you more. Tomorrow. That okay with you, my little Ashley? Does that sound like a plan to you?”
He’s trailing the backs of his fingers softly down my cheek, and I turn my head to kiss his hand. He smiles, lets me take the tip of his finger in my mouth. It tastes slightly of soap. He traces my lips with his thumb before tugging his finger free and dropping a swift kiss onto my mouth. His face is close to mine, our noses almost touching. I can see the question in his eyes—‘Are you ready?’
I nod briefly, turn my face from him as I square my shoulders. No longer cringing, ready to meet this.
And I do meet it. Meet it and beat it. The whip whistles menacingly as it flies through the air, landing across my shoulders. I scream, flinch. I’m only human. But it’s all right. I remember to breathe, to let the pain radiate as I did when he spanked me or flogged me with the strap. It works. I’m on top of it. The whip whistles through the air again. I gasp in dreadful anticipation, let out a whimper as it lands, but it’s bearable. It really is. The third stroke is over mercifully quickly, and Tom tosses the whip to the floor. I can see it, at his feet. I’ve passed the first part of this test, and with flying colors if I may say so.
True to his word, Tom’s fingers are on me, in me. The butt plug has kept my attention nicely and I’m wet, ready, hot with anticipation, with blistering need. It doesn’t take long, just a few firm caresses of my desperate, swollen clitoris and I’m lost, dazed almost by my powerful climax. This time my legs give way and I’m suspended by my arms. It hurts, but Tom quickly circles my waist with his arm, takes my weight until I can hold myself up once more. He waits until I’m steady again, well, steadyish, before he slides his cock into me. I scream again, this time with pure, intense pleasure. His fingers never away from my clit, from my hard, sensitive nipples, he fucks me beautifully, thoroughly. And I’m delighted that condoms are no longer needed due to the little pack of pills I now have on prescription. I squeeze my pussy hard around his cock, desperate to build the friction. I try to thrust back against him but it’s awkward, restrained as I am. Tom adjusts his angle, increases his rhythm, and it’s perfect. I flex my fingers against the smooth wood of the cross. My body convulsing around him, I come again, my hoarse cry of ecstasy ragged now, rasping. Tom curses, the sound muffled, guttural, then the hot, wet flush of his semen bursts into me, washing over my cervix. He leans over me, against me, his chin resting on the top of my head as he tenderly cups my breasts.
“God, you’re amazing. I could fuck you all night…”
“Do please, feel free.”
My whispered response earns me an affectionate pat on my bottom as he withdraws. The sound of his zip closing tells me he’s gearing up for the next round. And so am I. I square my shoulders once more, prepared.
There are no words, no checking if I’m ready this time. In my peripheral vision I see him pick up the whip again, see the wicked length of it unroll, hanging limply from his hands as he steps slightly away from me, regards my naked back. I should have asked him if I had any marks from last time, but I forgot, I actually forgot!
I hear the whistle. The whip flies through the air once more, and I flinch as the lash wraps itself around my shoulders again. No screams, but I jerk under the shock. I drag in a breath, imagine the white hot sting rippling through my body, cooling, evaporating. Again, the whistle, then the bitter sting. A small cry is forced from me, then the sense of heat rippling across me, dissipating quickly. The third stroke falls and I sigh, feeling almost lightheaded. I relax against the cross, smoothing the polished grain with my fingers. I hear the sound of the whip hitting the floor again, then Tom cups my face in his hands, tilting my chin up. My eyes are closed, I feel sleepy, almost drunkenly so.
“Can you open your eyes, love? Look at me.” Tom’s voice is soft, almost a whisper.
It’s an effort but I force my eyes to open, try to focus, but he’s hazy. There, but not there. As if I’m looking at him through a glass of water. After a few seconds my vision clears and I see his smile, calm and tender.
“You were in the zone there, baby. Did you feel that?”
“What? What zone?”
“I’ll explain later. For now, I promised you hot, sticky, dirty sex and I intend to deliver.”
His hands are on me again, I moan in delight, writhing as he slides three, then four fingers inside me, stretching me, expertly caressing my inner walls before he drops to his knees behind me. With his hands on my hips he pulls my bottom sharply backwards before turning to sit between my legs. He uses his thumbs to part my pussy lips and proceeds to tongue-fuck me, delicately, slowly, tantalizing me as he uses his tongue, lips and teeth to build my desire.
“Now, Christ, I need to come now. Please. Please Tom…” I am begging, pleading, desperately aroused, beyond coherent thought.
There’s nothing in my world now but this, his relentless tongue, his searching, exploring lips, his grazing teeth. He is heartless, taking his time, makes me wait until I’m close to fainting before, at last, he takes my clit in his mouth and sucks it sharply. I hang there, helpless, quivering, gripped by the most powerful orgasm yet, every nerve ending and muscle in my body dragged into it. I’m shaking—I forget to breathe, the intense shudders rolling through me. I may have even lost consciousness, would certainly have been in a puddle on the floor but for the restraints securing me to the cross. My orgasm starts to fade, only to be rocketed back up again by his insistent thrusting when he slides his fingers inside me. Obligingly, I come again, clenching around his fingers as he works me over with one hand, his thumb flicking my clit. Christ, I think to myself idly, he’s got some moves. He’s at my feet and still topping me so expertly and completely.
Finished, satisfied with his work, Tom comes back to his feet, lifts my hair to murmur into my ear, “Once more with the whip, then I want you on the bed. I’m going to fuck you until you faint again. Is that okay with you, Ashley?”
So I did lose consciousness back there. And he knew. Always, he knows.
He needn’t bother, fucking probably won’t be necessary, I’m almost fainting with anticipation just at the thought. My eyes closed, my whole body poised, tingling with desire, I whisper the one word he needs to hear, “Yes.”
The first whistling stroke of the whip sends my body jerking into spasm before I feel the rush of warmth as the heat radiates around my body, across my tender skin. Is it painful? Yes. No. I’m not sure what it is anymore. I wait for the next stroke, welcoming it, accepting it, I feel it wash across my back, across my shoulders. And again. And again. And again. Five strokes. And I do want more. I could do more. But true to his word, true to the limits agreed at the beginning of this, Tom drops the whip and quickly releases me. It’s too much effort to even open my eyes, and I trust him to take the weight of my boneless body as I fall from the cross. He lifts me, gently, carefully holding me so as not to hurt my tender skin, lays me face down on the bed. I don’t resist as he spreads my legs, bending my knees to improve his access. Moments later he thrusts into me, hard, fast, deep. I squeeze him, the only welcome I can muster at that moment, my body already sated, spent.
Except Tom knows better, and within the first couple of thrusts I am
arching back toward him, reaching for fulfilment. And he does not disappoint. He uses my convenient position to remove the butt plug, replacing it with his finger, first just one, then two. With his other hand he works my clit hard, forcing me quickly to my climax before he pulls out of me sharply. Then, without warning, he penetrates my anus. It’s hard, unmerciful. I gasp, cry out, the intrusion unexpected. It’s painful, it’s too much.
Almost too much. But not quite. With his unerring instinct for my limits Tom has pushed me as far as I can go today, but not beyond. He presses home, filling me completely, then stops, waits for me to adjust and accept. My bottom thrust upwards, available for him, gives him his answer and at last he starts to move, slowly, gently, allowing me to become accustomed to this new form of dominance. He takes his time, pressing against my tight, resisting and most private place, allowing me no secrets now. And I submit, relaxing under him as he forces the issue. He knows the instant I relinquish control, and my reward is his gentle caress across my clitoris again, his tender, touch, feathering lightly across the engorged, hopelessly sensitive bud. He coaxes me once more toward orgasm, and of course he succeeds. Helpless, responsive as ever, I unravel one last time for him. He fucks me gently, owning my body completely.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m going now, sweetheart. I’ll see you at about five.”
“No, what?” I roll over, shove my head back under the duvet, wince a little as my abused body protests at the motion. I ache. I ache everywhere. And I feel absolutely wonderful. I seem to recall hearing a phrase once, can’t remember where or who. All my hormones the right way up. That describes me perfectly. I wriggle in contentment, ready to drift back to sleep
“Ashley, I need to get off. My first lecture’s in forty minutes.” His voice in insistent, unrelenting.
I need to—what? I need to respond somehow. “What? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to the college. I’ll be done by four, back by five or thereabouts, depends on traffic. I’m taking the car. If you want to go shopping the city center’s about two minutes away. In ten minutes you can be in Marks and Spencer…”