Missing Ink

by E J Frost

  I’ll make whatever she chooses work.

  She takes several breaths before speaking, which tells me she’s going through some of the same mental processes I did. I stroke her while she thinks, learning the textures of her body. Her belly and inner thighs are so silky, softer than baby skin. Her mons has that slight unevenness that tells me she shaves or waxes. I like hair to play with there but asking her to let it grow out is a way off. Something to look forward to.

  “Sir, I feel stupid,” she whispers. “I want both. I know that’s not the choice you gave me—”

  “Dungeon rule, girl, nothing you say to me in here is stupid. I can give you both. Have you done honor bondage?”

  “I’m not sure, sir.”

  I glance at Logan because I’d expect a well-trained submissive to at least be trained in honor bondage, even if it’s not something she’s done in scenes. He shrugs his free shoulder, which reminds me that Logan didn’t train Brenna.

  “We’ll talk about honor bondage another time. For this scene, when I tell you to close your eyes, you will do so and keep them closed until I give you permission to open them again. Breaking the honor blindfold carries the same consequence as the plug. Do you remember what that consequence was?”

  She nods.

  I give her a moment to answer aloud, then prompt with a corrective slap on her mons, “In scene, answer me verbally, please.”

  “Sorry, sir. Yes, I remember the consequence. A strike of the Delrin on my ass for each infraction.”

  “That’s right. Because this is new to you, you have one pass. Using it to test me would be . . . unwise.”

  She shivers and I stroke her labia to double-check that all of this is turning her on. She seems to be deep in the scene, sinking into the perfect headspace, but it never hurts to check.

  My fingertips slide across her slick, secret skin. Perfect.

  I lift my gleaming fingers to her mouth. “Lick it off, slut.”

  A stronger shiver runs through her and she squeezes her eyes closed but flicks out her tongue and licks each finger clean.

  “Perfect girl,” I rumble in her ear and reward her by kissing her neck. She tips her head to the side to give me better access. I nip and suck, enjoying the soft resilience of her skin and the warm, buttery scent of her hair, leaving a livid trail of suck and bite marks that have her vibrating in my arms. She agreed to marks during our lunch, which is one of the many reasons I wanted to talk with her outside the heady excitement of a scene, when she might agree to things she regrets later. “Down on all fours now.”

  She sags in the harness of my arms and I hold her steady until she folds down to her knees. Once she’s on all fours, I take the crop off my belt and tap her inner thighs until she spreads her knees a little wider, then tap the small of her back until she tips her hips up. When her pussy and plugged ass are perfectly displayed for me, I run the tongue of the crop up and down her spine as a reward.

  “This is the position I want when you’re on hands and knees, girl. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Stretch out your left leg and hold your foot as high in the air as you can.” I’m testing her balance and flexibility with the position, but also making it easier on my almost fifty-year-old-back to put the ankle cuff on her.

  She shifts her weight onto her bad hip a little gingerly but gets her foot as high as I could hope for. She might be flexible enough to touch her toes to the back of her head, which has my cock twitching with possibilities. For now, I pick up one of the padded cuffs and buckle it around her ankle, admiring the intricate tattoo of gray roses and tiny, colorful birds that covers her leg from mid-shin to toes. I tap her instep with the crop to let her know to lower her leg.

  “Other leg. I understand you may not be able to get it as high.”

  She can’t. There’s probably six inches difference. I’ll have to keep that in mind when I restrain her and ask her to hold positions. Once I’ve got the cuff buckled on, I stroke her calf, enjoying the silk of her skin. Tiny goosebumps rise under my fingertips. I love how responsive she is.

  “Left arm now, good girl.”

  She shifts her weight and raises her arm, high and straight, extending her shoulder as though she’s saluting. Even with her sweet compliance, there’s always that touch of sass that makes me smile.

  I buckle on her wrist cuffs, then instruct her to crawl over to the web while I move to where I’ve piled several hanks of rope on a rolling cart. Logan’s color selection is limited: black, red, and, of course, pink. I’ve ordered some blue cotton rope for Brenna, but it won’t be here until next week. When I was planning the scene, I liked the mental image of the black rope against Brenna’s skin, so that’s what I’ll bind her with, but Logan’s toy box yielded a surprise treasure: coconut fiber rope. That’s the first hank I pick up.

  Returning to stand behind Brenna where she’s still on all fours at the base of the web, I take a moment to inspect her and push the plug more firmly into her ass, which gets me a pleasing whimper. “Stand,” I order. “Inspection position.”

  She climbs to her feet shakily but lifts her arms, laces her fingers behind her head, and settles into the position, her shoulders relaxing. I reward her by pinching her nipples until they’re ruby-red again, before I begin winding the coconut rope around her ribs to make a chest harness. She twitches when she feels the first bite of the rough rope, but says nothing and holds position, her head high and her cocky grin firmly in place.

  I create a simple harness, then wrap the base of each breast to create compression. Her nipples are as stiff as pegs by the time I’m finished. Oh, this girl does like the bite. I debate clamps, but decide I’d rather suck her nipples during the scene when she does particularly well with the flogger and leave them unadorned.

  Once the harness is done, I pull over a rubber-bottomed step from the chain station in the dry play area. I’m guessing Logan has Emily stand on it, since there’s a big difference in their heights. Brenna’s taller than Emily, but I still want to elevate her for the flogging, as well as give her the pleasure of suspension.

  “Brenna, honor blindfold. Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”

  Her eyes dart to me and I see the faint quirk of nervousness, but she wiggles her shoulders to reassure herself before closing her eyes.

  “Good girl. Hands down at your sides.”

  She obeys and I take her left hand in mine. Her palm is sweetly damp and I rub my thumb over her knuckles to reassure her.

  “Step up. I’ll guide you around, so you’re facing Logan with your back to the web. Then find your balance. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She lifts her left foot to find the low platform with her toes; once she does, she steps up confidently. The play of the low light over her colorful skin, the bunch and release of her long thigh muscles as she moves, the proud jut of her breasts in the harness, each image settles deep into my mind, filling some of the fractures uncollaring Amy left behind.

  When Brenna’s steady on the step, I walk her around until she’s facing the door. I lean in and kiss her, nipping her lower lip, before taking both of her hands and lifting them high overhead. I pull her arms to full extension and attach her cuffs to the web with a heavy duty, double-ended, snap connector. Once she’s up on the web, her arms won’t be so stretched, but for now, I enjoy the natural bow of her body, running my hands down her arms and sides to cup her hips and press my erection against her belly.

  That sassy grin appears. I lean in and nip her lower lip before I whisper, “Tell me that thought.”

  “I’m glad this is turning you on, sir.”

  “Everything about this is a turn on, bold girl,” I tell her between nips. “Everything about you is a turn on.”

  Her lips stretch into a full smile against mine. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Ready to fly, pain slut?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  If her eyes were open, they’d be
full of light, all those smudgy shadows gone. I want to see that, even if just for a moment.

  “Brenna, open your eyes and look at me.”

  She does, her eyes immediately lifting to mine. The light in them fills me, explodes inside my chest. My vision narrows. There’s nothing in the world beyond this. Just her. Just this cool, dim room, where I’m her god, where she’s my goddess, to worship, to hurt, to elevate and let fly.

  “Beautiful,” I whisper against her lips. “Thank you, little goddess. Close your eyes and keep them closed for me.”

  Those luminous brown eyes close, slowly, dreamily, and she tips her head up just slightly, wanting a kiss, which I give her until the ache in my cock and balls is so fierce that it shoots daggers into my gut. I nip her lips before I let her go and step back to rig her chest harness to the web.

  Her ankle cuffs are last. Instead of attaching them with snaps the way I did her wrist cuffs, I bind them into the web, finishing with a Celtic square knot on the top of each foot to keep them prettily pointed. Smiling, I step back and drink in the sight of her bound in my web, supported by my ropes, floating against the weight of the gravity that daily drags us all down, smiling her cocky half-smile, and wholly relaxed.

  It’s my job to take her up and up and up.

  I move to the table where I’ve laid out the floggers for this scene. A pair of very special, moose hide floggers to warm her up. A braided, leather flogger to spread her wings. A heavy suede flail studded with rivets, which looks much more innocuous than it is, to send her flying.

  I pick up one of the moose hide floggers. It has a distinctive, meaty smell, even tanned, and feels fantastic in my hands. I run the soft, heavy falls through my fingers to make sure there’s nothing caught in them. I haven’t used them for a scene in over a year, but I loaned them to Max recently so that he and his girl could try flogging with something that would give her all thud and no sting. He gave them back to me nicely brushed, but I always check anyway. I never want a stray sharp edge to hurt my bottom in a way I don’t intend.

  After I’ve checked the other flogger, I take them over to Brenna and hold them close under her nose. She takes a deep breath, and a brilliant smile lights up her face. “That’s not deer, sir. What is it?”

  “Moose hide. Only the finest for my goddess. You ready?” I’m slurring slightly from the adrenaline racing through my blood. It won’t affect my aim. I’ve dealt with enough adrenaline surges between topping, the Navy, and boxing that I can keep my hands steady and give commands, even if I sound like I’m drunk.

  She shivers and nods. “Yes, sir.”

  “One to start,” I say before I flip my right wrist over and give her the tips of the falls across her chest.

  A long, rattling breath comes out of her. Exhaling all the way to the bottom of her lungs. Letting everything out. When she breathes in, her ribs lifting, I know she’s filling her body with the sweet, musty, meaty fragrance of the flogging. I grin, step back, and let fly, slapping her breasts, her stomach, her thighs in a slow, steady rhythm, matching my strokes to Limp Bizkit’s “Behind Blue Eyes.” Her body lifts to each hit, moving with me as I work top to bottom, straining against the bondage to lift her thighs for me. The playlist switches over to 3 Doors Down and I use the music to increase the pace until she’s shivering, writhing in the bondage.

  “Two now, goddess,” I tell her as I lift the second flogger.

  “Yesss,” she hisses, her back arching, whole body lifting in anticipation.

  I switch my swing to bring both floggers into play, slapping the falls against her upper chest. She lifts her head for me. Showing me her pale throat. Giving me permission to strike the most vulnerable places on her body. I flip the floggers against her raised underarms, giving her a thud that rattles her against the web, then sweep them softly, one after another, across her throat, drawing a long moan out of her. Her nipples tighten, giving me another key to this girl’s kink. I have to earn her vulnerability, but once I do, it’s the biggest turn-on for her. I lean in and suck on each of her nipples as I run the floggers’ handles up and down her sides to keep her shivering, then give her hard hits across her breasts, working in tandem and then alternating so she’s constantly feeling the heavy thuds. She strains against the web, pushing her bound chest up to each hit, whimpering affirmations.

  I work down and up again then give her light hits across the throat and up against her pussy while I assess her. Her skin’s glowing through a sheen of sweat. There are light pink marks around the chest harness where the coconut fiber’s abrading her as she moves, but no red hot-spots where it’s biting into her skin. The muscles in her arms and thighs are taut and defined as she lifts herself to the hits, but no signs of strain or cramping.

  She’s ready for the next step.

  “Second flogger now, girl,” I growl, stepping back.

  She doesn’t flinch. When she speaks, her tone is dreamy. “Yes, sir.”

  I lay down the moose hide floggers and pick up the braided flogger which will give her substantially more sting and mark her skin with thin, red welts. I rotate my shoulder, which is feeling warm and loose, before laying into her. She hisses at the first hit and my cock throbs when I see her skin blanche, then darken.

  “There it is, my goddess.” I pepper her chest and underarms with light slaps that have her twisting in her bonds. “Feel the bite.”

  Heavier hits across her nipples have her whining and her nipples glowing. Dragging slaps side-to-side across her stomach make her hunch, pulling hard on her wrists, grunting with each hit. Beads of sweat slide down between her breasts and fly off the tips of the flogger. I move down to her thighs, enraptured by the wild contraction of her long muscles under her smooth skin. I windmill the flogger overhand, alternating between her breasts and thighs. Hard, heavy hits that have her straining, hissing between her teeth, shuddering as the braided edges claw her sensitive skin. She tosses her head back and forth, but never, never opens her eyes.

  “That’s it, goddess. That’s it. Take your due.”

  She throws her head back and wails when I whip the flogger up between her thighs. Tiny drops of liquid spatter off the flogger’s tips and this time it’s not sweat. I reach back without breaking my rhythm and grab the flail. The wide falls look so soft, and they are, but with the rivets as weights, they deliver a surprising punch.

  And they surprise the hell out of my dirty girl when I slap them up between her legs while swinging the braided flogger at her breasts. She squeezes her closed eyes and screams.

  “Give it to me, goddess.” A dozen hits and she does, her whole body going rigid before she bucks wildly with each slap against her pussy. Her screams bite my ears and fill my soul. My cock jerks against my zipper and spurts a little wetness into my boxers. I grin and even without looking in the mirrors, know that it’s feral. “More,” I growl, whipping the jingling falls up between her thighs again and again until she sags in the web, whimpering, small tears slipping down her cheeks.

  I step into her and lick them off, savoring her body’s salt in my mouth before I share it with her in a deep kiss. When I release her mouth, she tips her head back and sighs happily.

  “Good one?” I ask, nipping her chin.

  “Thank you, sir. That hurt so good.”

  “Can you give me another?”

  “If you give me a few minutes to recover and let me flex my feet, yes, sir.”

  I step back to look at her toes. They’re still pink, so it’s not a circulation issue. Probably just cramping a little. I set aside the floggers and kneel at her feet. Loosening the knots, I let her feet flex, then start at her ankles, just under the cuffs, and work my thumbs and fingers down her feet, digging into her instep and sole until the tight muscles relax. By the time I reach her toes and start back up, she’s giving me soft, little moans. I think I’ve just found a favored method of aftercare for my pain slut. She’s told me she doesn’t have a foot fetish, which I might put to the test in the future, because she has prett
y feet, despite only having four toes on her left foot, which doesn’t seem to affect her balance or mobility. I’d like to see them cupping my dick. Whether or not they’re an erogenous zone, she certainly enjoys having them rubbed.

  Once I finish, I rebind her feet and run a line between her toes just for a little extra control. I know by her hitched breath that she didn’t expect that, which pleases me. I want to keep this bold girl on her toes, literally and figuratively. Logan’s told me she’s been topped by hundreds of Doms. It’s not a competition; I know that. But I want her to feel from the beginning that what she can have with me is different. I don’t want her for a scene, or a night. I want something real, something special, and, if we can make each other happy, something lasting.

  Before I pick up the floggers again, I grab one of Emily’s sippy cups with a long straw and press it to Brenna’s lips. She drinks and smiles before she tips her head back. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Anything you need to tell me before we shoot for the next orgasm, bold girl?”

  “No, sir. I’m good. Still pretty floaty, actually.” She wriggles in the web for emphasis.

  “Excellent. Get ready to fly again.”

  The second flogging almost gets her there, but I can see she’s struggling even after several minutes with the riveted flogger. I keep at her breasts while I pull a glove on and rub my fingers through her pussy before plunging them in and playing hunt-the-G-spot. It only takes me a few strokes to find it, a few more to send her over the edge. I don’t come with her, but I seal my mouth over hers and swallow her screams, which fill me with satisfaction. When she stops convulsing, I slip my fingers out of her and wrap my arms around her, sealing us skin to skin. She hisses as my skin presses our sweat into the weals from the braided flogger. Then she relaxes in my arms, her head falling forward to rest in the curve of my neck and shoulder.

  “Thank you, sir,” she whispers.

  “Thank you, goddess,” I whisper back into her sweetly scented hair. “Did you feel it?”

  She nods into my neck. “I did, sir.”