When he tipped her over the edge of a powerful orgasm, Allie couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her lips. Liam’s other hand clamped suddenly over her mouth, catching and sealing the sound as she spasmed against his perfect, relentless fingers.
When she had stilled, he removed first the hand from her mouth, and then the fingers buried in her cunt. He lifted his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply, his face a study in bliss. Allie, blushing furiously, stole a glance at the passengers across the aisle, but, to her vast relief, no one was paying them the slightest bit of attention.
As if he’d timed it, the intercom clicked on once more, the captain announcing it was their turn to taxi to the gate. As some of the passengers applauded, Liam took Allie’s face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips. “When we get home, sub Allie, we’ll finish what we started here.”
True to his word, the moment they entered the house, Liam dropped their bags, closed the front door and pushed Allie against it, just as he’d done when they’d arrived at her apartment back in Boston. Jerking at the fly of his jeans, at the same time he yanked up her skirt. Naked beneath, and still aroused and wet, Allie received his thick, hard cock eagerly, wrapping her legs around his waist as he took her, still standing, against the door.
As they slumped in a rumpled, post-coital heap to the ground, Liam turned and flashed Allie a grin. “Welcome home, my sweet girl.”
As the weeks edged into a month since their return from Boston, Liam and Allie settled into an easy, sexy and satisfying routine. Allie sometimes lost herself in her jewelry making for hours on end, forgetting to eat or even pee until her body protested enough to get her attention.
During these times, Liam usually left her undisturbed, except to bring her something to eat or massage her shoulders for a few minutes. Sometimes, especially when she’d been working a while, he would describe what he planned to do to her in the dungeon once she was finished with whatever she was doing.
As was probably his intention, when he did that, Allie generally lost all interest in the project at hand. Within minutes of his sexy promise, she would present herself naked and on her knees, her arms raised, fingers laced behind her neck. She would say what had become her ritual greeting at that time. “I am ready and eager to serve you, Sir Liam.”
If Liam were working on his computer, sometimes he would respond only with a nod, leaving her to wait quietly on her knees for her Master’s attention. The old Allie would have fidgeted impatiently, but now she possessed a new, serene patience that left her happy to wait for Sir Liam to turn his masterful gaze her way.
Other times he would close the lid of his laptop promptly and stand to face her. She loved it when he lowered his jeans and underwear and pointed to his cock. She would scoot eagerly to kneel between his legs and worship his beautiful shaft and balls. Sometimes he would let her continue to completion, gripping handfuls of her hair as he ejaculated deep in her throat.
Most times, however, he would stop her before she took him too far. He would lead her down to the dungeon instead, and take his time with slow, sensual and erotic torture, sometimes with a flogger or paddle, with clips, cuffs, clamps and rope but, so far, never with the cane.
“You will have to ask me for the cane, sub Allie,” he’d told her one day when she’d mentioned with both fearful hesitation and desire that he had yet to introduce her to its dark pleasures.
That had been the week before, and she’d become increasingly obsessed with the idea of a full-blown caning session. Memories of the intense scene between Martin and Lauren at the club dipped and swooped at the window of her mind like a flock of trapped, persistent birds.
Finally, curiosity and desire won out over fear. That morning just after breakfast, Allie had presented herself before Sir Liam and asked in a tremulous voice, “Please, Sir. Will you cane me today?”
Now Allie stood on a thick rubber pad in front of a full-length mirror in their dungeon. Chains hung from a low beam over her head, wrist cuffs waiting to receive her. She could see Sir Liam behind her, a long, thin rattan cane in his hands.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” He was watching her, his eyes sparkling with focused intensity. “That something so simple, almost delicate, can deliver such a powerful experience?” He ran his fingers sensually over the rod, his tongue gliding over his full lower lip.
“Yes, Sir,” Allie whispered. In spite of her desire, in spite of the fact she had asked for this, a small knot of fear had formed just behind her breastbone.
“Here.” He moved to Allie’s side and held out the cane. “Examine the cane that I’m going to use on you today.”
Allie took the offered cane. The black suede curved handgrip resembled an umbrella’s handle. The cane was about two feet long, the rattan smooth and polished beneath her fingers. A jolt of nervous excitement shot through her heart en route to her cunt.
She looked over at the rack that held various floggers and whips. They were made of soft, sensual leather, despite the erotic pain they were designed to cause. But this cane in her hands seemed designed purely to inflict pain. She flashed to an image of Lauren, her ass and the backs of her thighs welted with dark, angry lines that would leave bruises and marks for days to come. She shuddered at the memory, fear nearly outweighing masochistic lust.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m afraid,” Allie replied honestly. “I want it, but I’m afraid.”
“Because?”
Allie pondered this. It wasn’t pain per se she feared. Indeed, she welcomed erotic pain, aware of where it could take her. It was the cane itself. Something about it she didn’t quite understand. “I don’t know,” she answered.
“I think you’re frightened because you’re focusing on the potential damage a cane can do. And yeah, in the wrong hands, it can do some pretty severe damage. But then”—he shrugged—“anything can do damage in the wrong hands. It’s about intent, knowledge of the instrument and paying attention to your body and your reactions.”
He moved closer and stroked Allie’s hair. “Remember, I’m experienced with a cane, and while I plan to mark you, you know I would never harm you. I won’t give you more than you can handle. And I should remind you, sweet sub girl”—his mouth quirked at the corner—“you can handle far more than you think. You’ve proved that over and over.”
Allie smiled at this empowering remark, some of her anxiety ebbing away. “Yes, Sir,” she said. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Now,” Sir Liam said, “you will kiss the cane and we will begin.”
Allie touched her lips to the side of the cane and then handed it back to her Master.
He moved to stand just behind her, turning her so they were both facing the mirror. Regarding her image, he said, “For this session I’m only going to secure your left wrist. You’ll need your right hand free. We’ll use this spreader bar to keep you still.” He pointed to the three-foot metal spreader bar, ankle cuffs attached on either end. “I will cane you until it pleases me to stop. You may speak at any time. Feel free to cry out as you need to.
“While I cane you, you will rub your pussy, not as a distraction, but as an enhancement to the pain. I want you to experience the sensations together. Ultimately, for you, they will become one and the same. As we progress with cane training, you will learn to associate the sting of the cane with the throb of your clit. As flogging and bondage are for you now, so, too, caning will eventually become as sexually stimulating to you as my tongue or my cock.”
Allie tried to keep the skepticism from her expression, but apparently failed, because Sir Liam laughed and shook his head.
“It’s okay,” he said, his eyes crinkling with merriment, though it didn’t hide the glitter of raw lust just beneath. “You don’t have to believe me. Right now all you have to do is obey.”
Sir Liam raised Allie’s arm to the dangling restraint. She watched in the mirror as he closed the leather cuff over her wrist, securing her arm high over her head. Next, he cro
uched in front of her, tapping her legs to indicate their position so he could lock her ankles into the cuffs at either end of the spreader bar.
Rising, Sir Liam stepped behind Allie, cane in hand. Allie regarded herself in the mirror. Faint marks lingered on her breasts from the single tail lashing he’d given her the night before. Her already swollen labia pooched between her spread legs. While the cane frightened her, she couldn’t deny how turned on she was.
She focused on the man behind her. Shirtless, he wore the black leather pants and black boots she had bought for him at her favorite BDSM clothing boutique in Boston their last day there. He was the very picture of masculine dominance, and she could have stared at him all day.
He met her gaze in the mirror, his eyes smoldering. “Lick your fingers,” he ordered, “and then I want you to rub your cunt. I’ll let you know when you can come.”
A thrill of delicious, erotic fear rippled through Allie’s frame. Yes, she was afraid, but at the same time she wanted this. More than that, she needed it. She licked her fingers and placed them against her aching sex.
“Yes, Sir Liam,” she said breathlessly, her nipples tingling.
Sir Liam whipped the cane several times in the air. In spite of her arousal, Allie’s gut clenched reflexively at the sound.
“I’m going to start lightly,” he informed her. “Your job is to continue to stroke yourself, no matter what I do or how much it hurts. I’m going to mark you. Together we’ll move past any lingering fear you’ve wrapped around the idea of caning. I’m literally going to whip it away.”
He gave her a few moments to absorb his words, his beautiful green eyes boring into hers in the mirror. “Are you ready, sub Allie? Do you still wish to submit to the sting of my cane?”
“Yes, Sir Liam,” Allie replied resolutely. “I want this. I need this.”
Sir Liam nodded. “You do need this. I’m honored to be the one to give this gift to you.”
He began to tap lightly against her ass with the side of the cane, striking both cheeks at once. The pleasurable sensation warmed her flesh as the blood increased its circulation beneath the skin. “Keep your hand moving,” Sir Liam reminded her. Allie, distracted by the caning, resumed the swirl of her fingers against her sex.
Slowly but surely, Sir Liam increased the intensity of his stroke. Pain began to edge its way over the pleasure, but it was nothing Allie couldn’t handle, hadn’t handled many times before.
Then came the first searing stroke. Unlike the small, quick burn of a single tail, or the all-encompassing thud of a flogger, a long, thin brand of pain seared across both butt cheeks.
“Ow!” Allie cried, her entire body tensing at the blow.
“Embrace it,” Sir Liam said. He struck her again, even harder.
Allie squealed, twisting reflexively away from the cane’s arc.
“Sub Allie,” Sir Liam said, his voice firm. “You are out of position. Stand still and put your hand back where it belongs. Rub your cunt while I cane your ass.”
Allie forced her trembling fingers to relax as she touched her swollen, moist sex. Fear and lust tumbled together inside her, dragging her along in their undertow.
He struck her a third time and then a fourth time, once on each cheek. The blows were quick and sharp, the pain edging into something hot, dark and sensual deep in Allie’s core.
Allie absorbed the pain, her breath sharp in her throat.
“This one will be harder, sub Allie. You will accept it with grace.”
He met her eye in the mirror once more. She swallowed hard but managed a small nod.
The stroke was like a knife cutting through her flesh. Allie cried out, tears leaping into her eyes. Her heart was hammering in her chest and pulsing in her throat. Her lungs felt as though they had collapsed, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
Sir Liam took a step back and tilted his head as he regarded Allie’s ass. “Whoa,” he breathed. “You should see these awesome marks. You’ll be so proud of yourself, sub girl.”
There was fire in his eyes as he met her gaze in the mirror, but his expression gentled as he regarded her. Lowering the cane, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Breathe,” he reminded her. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, sub Allie. I want to take you a little further, okay? I know you can do it. Embrace the pain and the fear. Harness it and let it empower you.”
Allie nodded, her lungs filling and easing as she drew in and then released a deep, cleansing breath. She looked at herself in the mirror. A rosy flush had bloomed over her chest, throat and cheeks. Sir Liam, behind her, moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, his grip gentle but centering.
“Are you ready to continue?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Allie said, surprised at the firmness of her tone. “Please, Sir.”
Dropping his hand from her neck, Sir Liam stepped back and lifted the cane. Allie slid a finger into the tight, wet heat of her cunt. As the cane sliced against her ass, the fire of its stroke caused her vaginal muscles to clamp down on her finger. She gasped, but didn’t cry out.
When the cane hit again, she began to rub her fingers against her swollen clit. Pleasure and pain wound around her psyche with the silken strength of a spider’s web.
The cane struck again, a line of pure fire where her ass and thigh met and, for the moment, stark pain obliterated everything in its wake. But then, just as quickly, it metamorphosed into pure, raw desire.
“Fuck,” Allie moaned, the word more an affirmation than a protest.
Again and again the cane whipped against her flesh as her fingers flew between her legs. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Pleasure tugged at her senses, the rise of an impending climax gripping her loins. She heard a deep, lowing sound and realized dimly it was her own voice groaning in time to the relentless stroke of the cane.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word ejaculated from her lips with each sting of the cane. Her fingers moved in time to its pulsing caress. The fire licking over her ass like flames began to melt and meld into the heat generated beneath her fingers.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back of its own accord, her lips parting. The cane whistled and struck, the fire flicking directly through her sex, as if her fingers and the cane were somehow one and the same. Allie felt light, as if her body had lost its mass, its gravity. If she hadn’t been tethered, she might have floated into the air, levitated by the combined, frenzied dance of the cane and her fingers.
“Yes,” Sir Liam breathed from somewhere far away. “Yes, yes, yes. You’re nearly there.”
She might’ve been climaxing, her body spasming in paroxysms of pleasure. It was possible she was crying, or laughing. Maybe both. Whatever was happening, it was like nothing she had ever experienced. Pain as a descriptor did not capture the fierce intensity. Pleasure was far too weak a word. The combined experience lifted her, propelling her out of herself, out of time. And then a rolling wave of pure, blinding sensation covered her senses, blotting out the world.
Allie opened her eyes, completely disoriented. She was on her knees, facing the mirror, leaning heavily against Liam, who sat just behind her on the mat, his legs on either side of her. As they made eye contact, he smiled with evident relief. “There you are. You left the planet for a minute or so. Are you okay?”
Allie thought about this as she regarded her image in the mirror. Her face was tear-streaked and flushed, her hair tousled, her nipples red and erect. As she came more fully to herself, she became aware not only of the stinging skin of her ass and thighs, but of the sense of deep, profound well-being that suffused her.
A smile moved over her face, lighting her eyes. “More than okay.”
“You did even better than I expected,” Liam said with an answering smile. “I would say you’ve conquered your fear of the cane. You’re pretty amazing, Allie.”
Allie nodded emphatically, her smile segueing into a broad, proud grin. “Oh,
yeah. I’m, like, totally awesome!” They both laughed.
“You want to see the marks? They’re gorgeous.”
“Oh!” Allie jumped up excitedly and turned away from the mirror, twisting back to see. “Ooh,” she said again, this time lingering on the vowel as she stared in awe at her ravaged ass.
He had painted dark red welts in even, parallel lines across both ass cheeks, several more marking the backs of her thighs. A few of them were raised, the ridges of abraded skin like badges of submissive courage over her flesh. There was no question—this was the most intense whipping she had ever received. She stared at the welts with horrified fascination that quickly segued into a quiet, fierce pride. She had endured a full-fledged caning. More than that, she had welcomed it.
She reached back a tentative hand and lightly touched one of the welts.
Liam, watching her, said, “I have a special salve I save for really intensive marking. A pharmacist friend of mine in the scene compounded it for me. It’s a combination of Arnica and a powerful antibiotic cream, along with some healing herbs. Your marks will last a few days, but there will be no scarring.”
Allie whipped around to face her lover. “I’m so happy!” she cried. She threw her arms around Liam’s neck. He brought his arms around her waist as he dipped his head to hers. Their lips met for a long, lingering kiss.
When they finally parted, Allie added softly, “Thank you, Sir Liam, for taking me where I needed to go.”
“Thank you, sub Allie, for letting me.”
Though Allie missed Lauren, she really didn’t miss much else about Boston since she’d left for good the month before. Happily, Martin and Lauren were planning a visit in the near future, as soon as they could coordinate their vacation time. Meanwhile, Matt and Bonnie had had Allie and Liam over for dinner a couple of times, and Liam and Allie had reciprocated. Allie quite enjoyed being part of a couple—not only for the sexual and BDSM intimacy, but for the vanilla fun of entertaining and enjoying friends.
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