by Kira Barker
He got up then and walked over to the impact toy rack, studying his tools for several endless moments before he picked up a heavy, many-stranded leather flogger and a leather paddle that was only about ten by three inches in length. Neither looked exactly threatening, but he’d already proved what he could do with his hands alone. I didn’t doubt that he’d have me exactly where he wanted me in no time. That thought alone was enough to spike my pulse once more.
Simon walked by my side without touching me this time and put the paddle down onto the bench between my spread ankles. That way, it remained in plain view when I looked back down my body, somewhat self-consciously sucking in my stomach. Once he stepped away from the bench, I lost sight of him, except for when I craned my head hard enough to strain the muscles in my neck.
I’d kind of expected him to have a go at me with the flogger now, but instead of hitting me with it, he dragged the long strands over my calves, then up my legs and over my ass to my upper back. Tensed as I was, less from apprehension and mostly from excitement, the sensation was something between ticklish and sensual. It made me relax a little as he dragged the flogger back down my body, then up my thighs again, this time letting a few of the strands tease the inside of my thighs and my labia. That actually felt kind of nice.
Until the light teasing sensation disappeared, replaced by a whoosh of air and the sharp sting of leather hitting my skin as he brought the flogger down on the outside of my left ass cheek. I jumped, as much as my bonds let me, and grit my teeth, weirdly proud that this time he hadn’t made me cry out.
Tense, I waited for the next swing, but now he was back to teasing me.
Up and down my legs the flogger went, making me go rigid whenever it disappeared, only to reappear on my other side after a second or two. I tried to keep up the tension, but my muscles refused to cooperate about a minute later, and that was when he hit the other side of my butt with equal force and precision.
The sting was minimal, and I made the mistake of relaxing right there, anticipating that he would resume teasing me now, which made the five consecutive strokes that came down in a descending path on the back of my thigh hurt just a little more. By the time he mirrored that on the other side, I was gritting my teeth, but only until he paused. The entire area of my ass and thighs felt warm, but except for the immediate discomfort of the impact, I felt fine.
Fine enough to be a cheeky bitch and wriggle my ass at him when I looked back and saw him watching me, a slight smile on his face. That made him grin, a deliciously wry twist coming to his mouth.
“Let me guess… you’re bored?” he asked, the hand not holding the flogger catching the end of the strands, pulling the leather tight.
“I wouldn’t call it—ouch!”
That next stroke landed squarely across my ass crack and with more force behind it, although he looked rather relaxed and casual about delivering it. I bit my lip, trying to keep from squealing, but when the flogger hit the exact same spot several times more in quick succession, I couldn’t help the noises escaping me. Instinctively, I tried to move away from the pain, mainly forward as he was standing directly behind me, but the bonds only permitted me to lean more heavily onto my arms. Instead of stopping this time, he only changed course, hitting my stretched thighs instead.
I didn’t count the strokes, but it must have been more than twenty when he halted, leaving me breathing heavily, my fingers clenched into fists. Now there was actual pain that faded quickly, but not as fast as before, leaving a stronger kind of warmth radiating from where the flogger had come down on my skin. With my mind not preoccupied with immediate evasion instincts, I felt a little stupid about cringing away like that and forced my body to assume its previous position. It hadn’t really hurt that much, and with almost a minute passed now, the residual glow was actually kind of pleasant.
Looking back, I found Simon practically lounging behind me, again keeping the flogger ready but at ease. I wondered briefly if he was waiting for something from me, but apparently checking back with him like that had been enough because he moved into action the moment after, aiming for the fleshier parts of my upper back, well away from my spine. Immediately, I dropped my head, my back bowed, waiting for each stroke with a little more composure now.
This time I counted, and it was twenty hits, equally distributed between my left and right side before he moved to my ass, then thighs. He kept the force behind each swing steady, as far as I could tell, but brought the flogger down harder than on the pass before, and when I didn’t do my evasion shuffle but only flinched a couple of times, he went back to my ass to deliver another twelve strokes with increasing intensity that had me jump with the last five of them. Those really hurt and were definitely on the side of what my mind was screaming to avoid, but I forced my muscles to lock in place and simply tough it out. I didn’t care that I’d made a few unbecoming grunts and high whines, but was simply glad when he stopped.
My breath was still coming fast and ragged when he continued, giving barely half a minute of reprieve.
Now he was concentrating on my thighs directly underneath my ass, but it felt somewhat different. For one thing, he hit me a little lighter than before, back to what I could easily cope with, but also faster, alternating sides with every stroke. Chancing a glance over my shoulder, I realized that he’d switched from aiming each single stroke one after the other to sending the flogger strands flying from side to side, using the whole range of motion of his shoulder to gather momentum, if not force. That came after he caught me looking, and this time when he hit the line where the sensation dipped into torment, he didn’t just stop after five more hits.
Clenching pretty much everything I had, including my facial muscles and teeth, I waited, but the pain kept coming and increased steadily. Temptation was strong to pull away and eventually I couldn’t hold out any longer, but every inch that he made me try to crawl away from him I gave as grudgingly as possible.
Then the pain just got too much, making me jerk forward as far as the ropes would let me. Three agonizing strokes still lashed my ass and then it was over, leaving me sweaty, shaking, and feeling miles out of my league.
“Good girl,” he murmured low enough that I could have ignored him, but I didn’t. For some reason, what should have sounded like condescension in another situation was praise to me now, as was the gentle caress of his hand moving over what felt like fiery red patches on my ass. I might have flinched at the first contact, but quickly leaned into his touch, which got a whole lot more interesting when his hand eventually roamed from the tops of my thighs to between them.
Before, Simon had been a tease, but now he went straight for the bull’s eye. Rotating his hand so that it briefly cupped my pubic mount, two of his fingers slid between my labia, spreading them. I inhaled sharply as he reached my clit, rubbing it deftly.
Within seconds, any and all discomfort was forgotten, and it was impossible not to rock into his hand. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he increased both speed and pressure, making nerve endings all over my lower body light up.
I didn’t pay attention to how long he went on like this, but it certainly wasn’t long enough when he stepped away again and resumed tanning my ass with the flogger. My lust-addled mind was slow to catch up so that the first few strokes still hit me relaxed and unprepared, but unlike before, that didn’t make me want to come out of my skin. For those first few seconds I wasn’t even sure how hard he hit me as everything just seemed to be muddled into one conglomerate of sensations. Then the sting of the flogger strands won out, making muscles contract and my fight against my instinctive reactions begin anew, but it held a different edge to it. It wasn’t exactly easier to bear than before, but somehow more rewarding.
Simon didn’t escalate things quite as much as before, just to the point where the balance between enticing and uncomfortable tipped toward the latter before we went back to stimulating me with his fingers. Immediately I felt hot need spread through my body, which only increased when
he switched to thumbing my clit so he could use his fingers to stroke up and down my slit, but without penetrating me yet.
That went on for another three cycles, and while the last stroke of the flogger had me cry out, my face pressed into my bound arms, the following treat fell far from the raging need that was building low in my abdomen. Seldom before in my life had I needed a cock in my pussy so badly, and it was insane how insufficient having my clit rubbed just the right way could feel.
“You know, if you want something, all you need to do is ask.”
It was that remark that made me realize what he’d meant before about teaching me a lesson about begging. That realization made me bark out a quick laugh, although it sounded more like a frustrated sob to me.
Why I couldn’t just do the sane thing and utter those few words he clearly wanted to hear was beyond me, but then I didn’t feel too mentally stable right then as it was.
“Nothing? I’m not boring you, am I?”
Before I could reply, something hit my left ass cheek hard, and when my eyes flew open and I looked to the end of the bench between my ankles, the paddle was gone. Again he slapped me, never stopping driving me crazy with his other hand.
“Nope, not bored at all,” I tried to reply evenly, but the last word cut off harshly when he hit me again. Damn, but that paddle packed more of a punch than I’d expected.
“Oh, I think you are bored, otherwise you wouldn’t be so damn silent. Cat got your tongue?”
His fingers disappeared, and a moment later the flogger was back, although it was a half-assed stroke at best that came now where the paddle had hit me three times.
“Seriously? Worst pun ever.”
Simon chuckled, then put both impact toys down—right in the middle of my lower back.
“Make sure those stay where they are, or I’ll keep you right where you are for a lot longer than you’d like.”
He lingered at my side, and after a moment of trying to figure out how I could relax without slumping enough to accidentally throw off the flogger and paddle, I craned my neck to the side, finding him looking down at me. He’d broken a bit of a sweat since the last time I’d gotten a good look at him, but considering that my breath was coming in labored gulps and my entire body was slick all over, I couldn’t find it in me to care. Crouching down, he brought our faces to the same height, and I wondered why he was so nice. He had obviously been telling the truth before, that he had no intention of playing nice, and if the need and plethora of intense sensation that kept ebbing through my body was any indication, I really didn’t want him to.
The look in his eyes softened as he reached out and pushed a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear, then leaned close, but not close enough for anything interesting.
“Exactly how sore did Saturday leave you?”
Considering that he’d upped the ante as far as anything hitting me was concerned within the first five minutes today, I realized that he didn’t mean the fleshier parts of my body with his inquiry. Just thinking back made me grin rather stupidly.
“Somewhat, but only in the best of ways.”
“Still sore?”
Reaching back and up, his hand touched down on my lower back, with one of his fingers circling my anus slowly. My pelvic floor muscles—among others—clenched, but I held his gaze easily.
“Not enough that it should deter you.”
“Deter me?” he asked, the slight grin on his face dipping into darker registers just as his finger briefly dipped lower to gather some lubrication that was flowing in abundance from adjacent places, then returned to tease my rosette softly.
“Deter you from fucking my ass,” I deadpanned, then grinned back at him simply because it was too hard not to.
“Who says that I intend to fuck your ass?”
That probing finger definitely did, but I really hoped that wasn’t just my wishful thinking.
“Well, last time you got to fuck my mouth and my pussy, it seems logical that now you’d want to fuck my ass, particularly as you’ve had it wriggling right in front of you the entire time.”
He snorted, a strangely endearing sound considering the situation.
“I don’t know. Right now I’m pretty content with painting your ass a lovely shade of red, so why should I stop?”
My answer was momentarily delayed when his finger finally made it through my sphincter, not quite so pleasant a sensation with the lack of sufficient lube, but I swallowed my rising complaint when he withdrew immediately.
“Because sooner or later you’ll drive me insane if you don’t fuck me,” I drawled, kind of hating the angle I was forced into which didn’t let me catch any indication of whether that dirty talk affected him or not. Then again, tight as those pants were, they’d likely hide said evidence either way.
“As I said—ask me nicely, and you shall be rewarded.”
He waited for my reply but I just stared back at him, my lips compressed into as tight a line as I could. After five seconds he shook his head and laughed softly, then got up.
“Good, have it your way. Or maybe you just need a little more of an incentive? Let’s see if I can come up with something.”
He left me with that rather ominous sounding statement, and I watched his every move as he went over to one of the supply cabinets. After the way the flogger had made me squirm, I would have expected to be glad to get a break now, but the more I calmed down, the more I started to wish all those sensations back. Only a very small part of me dreaded what said incentive might be. Right then I was, quite frankly, too horny to give a fuck as long as it would lead to more squirming and panting.
Simon returned with a box of wipes, of all things, in one hand and a butt plug and bottle of lube in the other. How that should have scared me, I couldn’t say, and like before I wriggled my butt invitingly at him when he stopped behind me.
“I love how much of a slut you are,” he told me as he sat his paraphernalia down between my legs, smiling.
Even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t, right then I couldn’t have denied that I was acting rather wanton and loving every second of it. I still stopped what probably resembled a botched attempt at twerking, mostly because the muscles in my thighs started to ache. My position was, all in all, rather comfortable except for the strain it put on my neck when I didn’t rest my head on my arms, but all that contracting gave my leg muscles a nice workout, something they weren’t really used to.
Simon meanwhile busied himself with rolling a condom over the black butt plug, then squirted what felt like more than liberal amounts of lube onto my asshole. I didn’t protest, though, even if it was a weird sensation to feel some of the lube dribble down to my pussy lips. Then he set to working the plug into my anus, while his free hand gathered up some of the escaped lube and resumed stroking my clit and everything else responsive down there, with the glaring exception of where I really, really needed to be touched.
As if he’d read my mind, which, I had to admit, couldn’t have been difficult right then, Simon picked up our banter again.
“I’m aware that for whatever screwed-up reason you’ve decided that begging is beneath you, even if it drives you insane, but I have all the time in the world right now. And should worse come to worst, I can easily get off by fucking your ass only. You’re the one who might need a cock in your cunt so badly that nothing else will suffice.”
Gnashing my teeth, also because now there was no way to catch the look on his face, I glared at my arms instead of my intended target.
“You don’t think I can come from anal alone?”
“Eventually, maybe, under the right circumstances, but I won’t be rubbing your clit, either. If you continue to be a stubborn little whore, I’m ninety-five percent sure that my cock in your ass won’t be enough.”
The frustrating thing was that I silently agreed with him. As it was, feeling the plug push deeper inside me with every tiny, rhythmic thrust now felt divine, but then he was doing a great job working me into a frenzy wi
th his other hand, too. Without that, getting spread open slowly might still have felt good, but not climax-worthy good.
Shit.
Simon clearly took my silence as acquiescence, and went on conversationally after stopping for a moment to squirt yet more lube onto the plug.
“This is really not about me getting a kick out of forcing you to debase yourself. That actually doesn’t really do much for me. It’s about power, and control. To know that I have it all and you don’t is what makes this so special to me. The knowledge that whatever I decide, that what I do next will either make you come or pull you back from that ledge and keep you crazy with yearning. When you plead for mercy, you surrender to me, not just physically as you already do, but mentally. It’s just a tiny, last step, but a tremendously important one. If you come then, it’s because I let you, because I want you to, because I take that gift you offer me in exchange for your reward. And that reward isn’t one measly orgasm, even if at that point you should be damn grateful for it. No—right at that point, I own you, and even if that sounds weird as fuck voiced like that, it’s a damn powerful feeling.”
Maybe it was that what he was doing right then made me perceptible to other related things, but what he said didn’t sound so bad compared to my senseless resistance stunt. It actually made me feel a little stupid, although not in a “I should have seen this myself” kind of way, but I was starting to ask myself why I was deliberately raining on my own parade.
While I was still mulling that over, the plug slid in after a last, slightly uncomfortable push, settling quite nicely into me. It made me feel full and stretched, but in that enticing way that a large cock filling and stretching my pussy felt good. The pleasant sensation grew as he continued to rub my clit, making my muscles clench. For a little while, I thought that having my ass stuffed would help make up for the glaring absence elsewhere, but, no. It only took him lightly stroking one finger over my entrance, and I knew that I was still fucked, unless I got fucked, literally.