by Mason, Jude
"Whenever you enter my special room, you'll be bound in some way.Today, I've chosen to bind your hands. That may change once we're in the room and it will probably be different each time you're here." As she spoke, she went to the nearest coffee table and picked up the handcuffs she'd placed there earlier. Two, one-inch wide straps of heavy leather, two links of chain dangled from each, and a padlock joining them. "Hands behind your back, please."
"Please, may I ask something first?" He was trembling, and she knew he'd be skittish and would need reassuring. "Of course you can. Anything." "I've never done anything like this before. What if I need to stop
you? What if I just can't take it?" "Then you ask to speak," she said softly. "I do plan on punishing you, that's why you're here. But, I also realize it's all new to you, so we'll take it slow and I'll explain as we go." She tapped his erection then, and smiled, "But, by the looks of this, you're enjoying the treatment so far. Am I right?"
He looked down at himself and her hand. "Yes, I'm enjoying this. I've never felt like this before. But…"
"We'll take it slowly. I promise. The punishment will hurt, but if it's too much, say so." With that, she repeated, "Put your hands behind your back."
Caleb looked into her eyes and must have seen something there that made him trust her, because the next instant, his hands were crossed behind his back. She carefully buckled the cuffs around each wrist, making sure they were tight enough so he couldn't escape, but not so tight as to restrict blood flow.Just the act of cuffing him excited her. She was in control and he could do nothing to stop her. He'd given her that.
Standing behind him, she reached around, caressed his lower belly, and pulled herself against his back. The leather corset dragged across his flesh. She pushed her hips forward, her leather-clad pubes brushing his thigh. She shuddered, and closed her eyes. A tiny explosion of pleasure took her breath. Her grip moved to his hips and she ground her body against him.
He had to have sensed her pleasure, but he remained as he was—a pillar of masculine granite. When she regained her composure and walked around to stand in front of him again, she wasn't surprised to see his smile.
"Come with me." She took hold of his beautiful erection. The girth filled her hand and more, the flesh was hot, the blood pulsed against her fingers as she drew him ahead. At the door, she looked back over her shoulder. "Once through here, you're to be silent, unless you're asked a question or you have to stop what's happening. Do you understand?" He shuddered, but his reply came immediately, "Yes, Lady Cyn." "Good." She opened the door and entered, he followed a step
behind. He gasped when he saw what was inside the room. He stopped, too, but only for a moment, until her grasp pulled a little too hard on his prick. With a lurch, he stumbled after her.
Cyn loved his reaction and eased her grip to give him time to appreciate the contents of the well-lit room. The wall to the left with all manner of toys: whips, paddles and straps, and more—a closet he'd see later, if he stuck around. The cross and wooden framework dominated one wall. In front of the picture window was a bench she planned to use for breaking him in. Her chair was in another corner, soft and well worn, but still as comfortable as the day she'd found it.
"Come," she urged and pulled him forward. He followed, awe struck but eager by his expression. She stopped in front of the bench. At that moment, it was at waist height, andthat's where she wanted it. Along each of the four, wooden legs were a dozen eyebolts. The top was padded and covered in black leather.
She stood him in front of the bench and released her grip. He dared to look at her, but couldn't keep eye contact for more than a moment or two. Lowering his eyes, he stood trembling, waiting for her command.
From a pocket at her waist, she removed the key to the lock holding his cuffs together. Once she had them unlocked, she said, "Bend over the bench.Reach your hands as far down the legs as you can."
Caleb took a deep, shuddering breath, and then stepped up to the bench. He bent over it, his belly pressing into the leather padding as he reached down its legs. She moved to the other side and bent to secure his cuffs as far down the legs as possible. The first one was easy, but when she moved to the other, he pulled away. She stroked his arm, reassuring him until he loosened up and allowed her to clip the cuff in place.
Once she had him secured, she slid her hand up his arm again, feeling the muscles tighten, then relax. His heat surprised her. His excitement was like an aphrodisiac. She felt his breath on her cheek and turned her head to see him looking at her.
Getting to her feet, she strode to the nearby cupboard and opened it. Inside, she found the cuffs and small harnesses, sex toys, and the tools she used to tease. She found the cuffs she wanted, a match to those she'd used for his wrists.
"Be calm now," she whispered, approaching him from the rear. When she stood close enough, she caressed his back and stroked the muscles along his spine. He wriggled when her hand came to his ass, but she persisted and was soon caressing the large muscular glutes. "Close your eyes and just feel my hands on you. I won't do anything without telling you." "Yes, Lady Cyn," came his soft reply. She stroked down the back of his thighs, easing them apart with a
gentle tap of her finger. His soft groan made her shiver. "I'm going to put cuffs on your ankles. They're exactly the same as the ones on your wrists." She squatted down beside him and slid a cuff around his ankle. Buckling it snuggly, she pulled it to the side, urging him to spread his legs a little more. "There's an eye bolt on the leg of the bench. I'm going to fasten the cuff to it." There was a snick and his leg was held fast. She moved to his other side and repeated the procedure.
She stroked him continually, not only to sooth him, it excited her to do so. The back of his thighs trembled under her fingers. She slid her hand all the way down to the back of his knee, switched to the other leg, and then worked her way up. She smiled when she saw him clench his buttocks, but continued her caress.
Rising, she stood behind him and to the side. Her hand rested at the base of his spine, just above the crack of his ass. His back was damp with sweat. "How many hours do you think it'll take you to finish the job so you're on schedule again?"
He took a few moments to respond, and when he did, it was in a soft, trembling voice. "Three. I'm sure I could get back on schedule in three hours."
"Excellent. So, for punishment, the number three will be involved, plus seven, because your schedule was for a week." Absentmindedly, or so it would seem to him, she caressed him. In fact, she loved the feel of him, the firm, taut flesh of his ass, the smooth expanse of his back. On a down-stroke, she allowed her fingers to slip between his cheeks. His deep groan made her heart beat faster. "Ten strokes. That seems right."
She didn't immediately go for a paddle or strap, but continued toying with him. For his part, he seemed more than willing to let things go at whatever pace she decided. When she slipped her hand between his legs and cradled his balls, he eased his legs open a little more. She gently pulled and twisted them around. Then, when he was breathing like a racehorse, she released them and moved her hand to his erection. She didn't grip the shaft. Instead, she ran a finger along the length of him. He pulsed and pushed against her finger. Relentlessly, she toyed with him and teased him, until he was moaning continuously.
"Yes, ten," she murmured, and slid her other hand along his back. She pulled her hands away then, and smiled at his groan of disappointment. "Please," came his soft whisper. "Silence," she commanded, but was secretly pleased with his reaction. She walked away from him, leaving him to wonder where she was going, what was going to happen next, and when his punishment would begin. From the wall of paddles and whips, she selected a twentyone inch long crop with a wide leather patch at the end. When she returned, the clicking of her heels seemed louder than she remembered. The weight and feel of the crop, as she tapped it against her thigh, echoed the beating of her heart. The closer she got, the faster came the tapping. Her breath caught and she felt her temperature rise with ex
citement.
"Do you want a gag?" she asked softly when she stood behind him again. "Or do think you can keep from yelling? We could have a signal if you needed to have me stop."
"No gag. Please, Lady Cyn," he said hurriedly, as if afraid she'd cut off his only means of communication.
"All right." She slid the crop over his back, letting him feel the leather. A light tap on his right cheek made him jump, but in surprise, not pain. "Ready? I'm going to count to five, and then I'll begin."
"Yes, ready." His voice was steady, but she could see sweat trickling from under his arms.
"One, two, three," She lifted the crop and took a step back, gauging where it would land, then added, "four, five."
His buttocks tensed, quivered. She waited. When his muscles relaxed, she brought the crop down. The soft swish was the only warning he got, but it didn't give him enough time to tighten up. The crop landed with a sharp slap, indenting his flesh. His head shot back, and he yelped. The muscles in his ass clamped tight and he tried to pull his legs together.
She didn't linger, but raised the crop again and let fly. She knew it was the shock that caused him to tense; not the pain. At least it was at first. She alternated from one cheek to the other, timing her strokes for maximum effect. His buttocks jiggled delightfully between each swat. His yelps turned into moans that she was sure weren't just from discomfort.
On the eighth swat, he raised his ass. She, in response, smiled and increased the force of the blow. The ninth swat landed sharply on the under-curve of his left buttock, forcing the taut globe to jump. The tenth sank into his right cheek and mirrored that last blow. Red splotches, the size of the crop's patch, dotted his bottom in a haphazard design. His groan was loud, and sounded of both desire and frustration.
Cyn's excitement had risen with each stroke of the crop. When the punishment was over, she placed the long, slender tool beside him on the bench and noticed her hand was trembling. She laid her hand on his lower back and felt him shudder.Sliding her hand down, she caressed the heat of each red mark, massaging him and easing the burning itch she knew must be driving him crazy.
"That's ten," she said, allowing her hand to stray from cheek to cheek. He tensed the muscles, but only for a few moments. "I'm going to release you and you can get dressed. I'm also going to allow you to catch up today, if you'd like. You'll have a better chance of keeping to your schedule next week."
She bent and worked the buckle on one ankle, releasing his foot. Scooting over, she unfastened the other and pulled the leather strap free.
"Thank you, Lady Cyn," he said. His voice was gruff with excitement.He eased his legs together and thrust his hips forward.
She knew he was rubbing his erection against the bench and was aching to ease that discomfort. But not this time, not yet. No matter how much she wanted to, it wasn't the right time. She straightened up and moved around the bench to his head and arms. When she squatted, she made sure her crotch was right below his face. She wanted to make sure he could smell her—to know how much he'd excited her.
Unbuckling the cuffs, her hands trembled even more than before. Between the first and second, she slid her hands up his arms, and massaged the taut muscles in his shoulders. She felt herself gush, and couldn't stop a groan. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she unfastened the last cuff and watched him slowly rise.
He was magnificent. His face was flushed, and he couldn't meet her eyes, but he wasn't embarrassed by his nakedness either. His erection thrust out before him, hard and dripping with the essence of his lust, reaching towards her.
She rose to her feet and stood to the side, clearing a way for him to leave the room. He took it, but not eagerly. After a half-dozen steps, he clenched his fists and she fought the urge to chuckle. The spanking hadn't been severe, but she knew he wanted to rub his bum, but not in front of her.
She followed him, not wanting to give him the chance to sneak that soothing rub. He immediately went to his clothing and picked up his shorts. A moment later, he was easing them over both his sore bottom and his rampant erection. He seemed to breathe easier then, as if just the mere act of covering his privates, and hiding his red-splotched ass, gave his pride a boost. Jogging pants soon covered his lower body, the green T-shirt, the top. He sat down to put on his socks and that's when he looked up at her.
She was still garbed in her leather, and his eyes were drawn to her cleavage. She allowed it for a moment, letting him realize what he was doing, then took a step closer. He raised his eyes to look into hers.
He cleared his throat and smiled. "I'll finish filling in around the foundation. Thank you." His smile broadened. Was he thanking her for the time to complete his work, or for the punishment? Perhaps he wasn't sure himself.
"Fine, I've got work to do, too. Feel free to join me for coffee when you're done." She stepped back, giving him room to rise and leave.
At the door, he stopped and looked back at her, a strange, bewildered look in his eyes."Coffee, later? You mean that, don't you?"
"Of course," she smiled and let her gaze wander down his body. He was still partially erect. When she looked back into his eyes, she said. "I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't." "Okay, I'd like that," he opened the door and headed for his truck.
Chapter Six
Cynthia returned to the playroom and let her mind replay what had taken place that morning. He'd not only accepted the punishment and enforced nudity, but had seemed to revel in it. His erection proved it, as did his behavior afterward.
She returned the cuffs to their place in the drawer. There were other sets of cuffs there, both leather and chain, even a pair of pink leatherette ones with fake fur lining. She remembered using those and her smile broadened. Tom had been furious, but she'd led him around the backyard wearing just them and the matching frilly apron. Punishment meant a great many things.
She grabbed a cloth to wipe down the leather bench, but before she got to work, she leaned down and inhaled the scent of Caleb's excitement. The bench was soaked with his sweat—a clean, masculine sweat with a hint of soap. She smiled and wiped it away with a soft towel she kept handy.
Something touched her shin. Startled, she looked down and smiled. Ginger butted her leg again, tail up, back arched, and then he meowed. "Hey mister, you're not supposed to be in here." Reaching down, she lifted the orange ball of fur and rubbed him under the chin. She gave the room a final look, saw nothing out of place, and went into the living room. Ginger purred and squirmed around until he'd managed to put his paws around her neck. He rubbed his nose against her chin.
"Good lord, what are you so happy about?" she chuckled, and made her way to her bedroom. The drapes across the glass door were partially open. She saw Caleb, shirtless and with a look of determination on his handsome face, tossing shovels full of dirt into the trench around the foundation. For an instant, she debated whether she should close the drapes.
Sitting on the bed, she put the cat down beside her and laughed when he rolled over, kicking at her hand. She rubbed his tummy and he rewarded her by stretching out, offering his belly for more attention. "I wonder if Caleb likes his tummy rubbed?" she said to the cat. Ginger perked up and meowed. "Oh, never mind." She got to her feet and went for her shorts and tank. Seated on the bed, she unlaced her shoes. She'd decided to let the drapes alone. Just thinking of him catching sight of her made her blood race.
She stroked her legs, from her knees up to the hem of her leather skirt. Was he watching? She didn't know for sure, but she hoped so, she performed as if he were. Sliding her fingers under the hem, she touched the soft, damp curls hidden just beneath. There were no panties to deter her, and he'd know that now, if he were looking. Without looking towards the door, she rose from the bed and unfastened the button and zipper at the back of her skirt. It was tight, so skimming out of it took some wriggling and pushing, which she accentuated. When it dropped to the floor, she was naked from just below her hipbones. The stiff, black leather corset contrasted sharply with the
pale flesh of her lower belly and the swell of her hips. She folded the skirt and dropped it on the bed. A smile played at the corners of her mouth and she turned away from the door, not wanting him to see her grin. Was he watching? She prayed he was. She ran her hands over her breasts, lifting them, squeezing the leather-cupped mounds. Her head fell back and she ground her hips into the air. She smelled herself, her musk, her excitement, and the leather. Languidly, she trailed her hands down her sides, feeling the ribs beneath the hide.Lower still until her palms met flesh, her hips, and around to the soft swell of her ass. She spread her legs and rolled her hips, enticingly— provocatively.
Reaching up under her arm, she snagged the zipper tab and pulled. The corset sagged,then fell away. She caught it as it dropped towards the floor, and tossed it on the bed with the skirt. Her skin was cold and damp in the sudden freedom. She massaged her breasts, naked and soft, her nipples, taut against her palm. The soft swell filled her palms. Shivering, she spun towards the glass door.
He was there. His mouth hung open. One hand held the shovel; the other was on his crotch. The front of his joggers tented towards her, held by his tight grip.It took him a moment to realize she'd caught him. When he did, he blushed beet-red and turned away. The shovel landed in the dirt. Bending to pick it up, he glanced her way again, as if to see if she'd really been watching him.
She was. Inside she was panting, aching for him, but on the outside, she remained stern-looking and calm. She placed her hands on her hips, and scowled.
He blinked, looked shocked, and quickly lowered his eyes. He scrambled to work, digging furiously. Caught, he appeared to want to get the job done, and get out of there as fast as he could.