“I know. Now, bend over. I don’t like to say things more than once.” I bent forward slightly, and before I even finished, he striped my bottom with the cane, just once. I yelped in pain and reached back to shi
eld myself, frantically rubbing the fiery stripe he’d left. He took my hand hard in his.
“Give me the other one.”
He secured both my wrists in front of me in a firm grip while my mind was still stuck on the throbbing pain of what he’d done.
“You will never put your hands behind you. Never, never, never. You’ll never try to protect yourself. In the beginning, I’ll restrain you for your own safety, until you learn to control yourself on your own. Canes can draw blood pretty quickly on a hand. A paddle can break one.
Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and then I shrieked as he brought the cane down on my ass again. I tried to pull away from him but found I could go nowhere. He had me held tight. I gasped for breath. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it after all. After all this, I would have to tell him it wouldn’t work, that I couldn’t do what he wanted. But I was doing it, wasn’t I? He’d hit me twice and I’d lived.
But how many would I have to take? While I was wondering that, he hit me once more. I yowled and struggled to pull away from him, but again, I was held fast.
“Okay,” he said. “Take some deep breaths. You survived some of the worst pain I’ll visit on you. You did survive, didn’t you?”
He looked at me and I blinked back through tears.
“It hurts, I know. I told you. This isn’t a game. Have you had enough, little girl? Do you want to leave?”
“No, sir,” I whispered. “I don’t.” I wanted him to hold me, I wanted him to soothe me, but no, I didn’t want to leave. He pulled me close and looked down at my ass, smoothed his rough hand over the aching sting. “You have three beautiful welts now, Lucy. Look.” I did, and the welts looked angry and red. Beautiful? I wasn’t sure about that yet, although I felt a strong, unexpected ache between my thighs. Surely that hadn’t turned me on, had it? I watched with relief as he put away the cane and didn’t pull out any other toys. Instead, he cupped and fondled my breasts, holding them in his hands while my bottom burned and the throb between my legs ratcheted up. “These are lovely. Real. The perfect size.” He pinched my nipples again, even harder than before, and I moaned. Then I blushed.
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “It’s good that you enjoy it. But you may not come, not unless I say.”
I bit my lip as he continued to toy with my nipples.
“You like this,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “You have sensitive nipples.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you ever had a clip on your clit? Between your legs?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I bet you’ll like that too. Very much. Spread your legs.” I did, but not enough, because he nudged my feet impatiently.
“Wider.”
He pulled the panties down and off and pushed my feet apart until I was spread wide open, and then he put one hand on the front of my waist to hold me still, and with the other hand, thrust two fingers up inside me. I was mortifyingly wet, but he didn’t say anything about that. Instead, he asked, “how many partners have you had?”
“Four.” And not one of them ever touched me like this.
He sighed, wiggling his fingers around inside me. “I believe you. You’re small. Tight.” He pulled out his now sopping fingers and without any warning at all, thrust one of them deep into my ass. He slid it right in to the hilt, lubricated as it was with my pussy juices. I held my breath as he pressed it into me, hard. I fidgeted a little as he tried to put in another finger. It wouldn’t go. He didn’t force it, but he did tsk at me.
“Have you ever had anal sex?”
“No, sir.”
“Never? Not once?”
“No.” My voice sounded strained. He didn’t try any more to insert the other finger.
“Well, you will,” he said. “Are you on the pill?”
“No, I can’t take it. It makes my periods go on forever.”
“We don’t want that, do we? Where are you in your cycle?” he asked, pulling his fingers out of me and walking away.
Oh, Jesus Christ. “I had my period last week.”
“Okay. You’ll let me know when you have your period and we’ll do other things. Are you clean? No sexually transmitted diseases?” While we discussed this, he washed his hands at a sink in the corner. The fully equipped playroom.
“God, I hope not,” I think I said.
“I’ll use a condom every time, although I’m clean. You’ve never had unprotected sex with your partners?”
“No, I never have.”
“Even your fiancé?”
“No. I was saving that for my wedding night.”
For some reason that made him chuckle. I suppose he thought it funny, that I’d almost married some vanilla fuckboy, as he said. I wondered what Joe would think of me now if he could see me. He’d probably think, God, I almost married a freak.
“Well,” he said, “for now, anyway, we’ll use condoms. Maybe, eventually, we’ll get some blood work done. But if you can’t take the pill...” His voice trailed off, and I stood thinking how bizarre it was, to be discussing these things in such a businesslike way with him, and then I stopped thinking altogether, because he was walking towards me, starting to strip. The animal way he moved took on a whole new meaning as he revealed his body to me. Each limb, each muscle seemed perfectly formed and proportional, superbly male. His broad chest tapered to muscular hips and thighs and his organ seemed to me the most beautiful cock I’d ever seen. The natural, easy way he walked, even the way his arms swung at his side as he approached resonated in some unconscious part of me.
“Get down on your knees,” he ordered as he came to stand in front of me, fisting his cock. It was huge and purplish red. “Kneel up straight and keep your eyes on my cock while I speak to you.”
Not a problem, I thought to myself as I stared. It would be very damn hard to ignore, especially jammed right up by my face as it was.
“Have you sucked a lot of cocks, Lucy Merritt?”
“Not very many.”
“You’ll suck mine a lot, and you’ll swallow my cum. You’ll suck mine like there’s nothing you enjoy more on earth, and you’ll savor my cum like it’s the nectar of the gods. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Open, and keep your hands in your lap. Open wider,” he said as he guided his cock to my mouth, so I did, and without preamble, he shoved it in. I choked and gagged from the shock.
“Relax.” His fingers held my head steady. “Get your mouth wet, open your throat for me.” I tried, I desperately tried to fellate him, but I was clumsy and hopelessly inept. Tears came to my eyes from all the gagging, but he didn’t withdraw, he just stroked my hair. “It’s okay, don’t give up. It takes practice. You’ll get plenty of it. Just relax and try your best.” And actually, it did get a little easier. My mouth filled with saliva, which helped him slide more easily in and out. My throat became used to the steady thrusts, or perhaps numb to them, and I only gagged from his thrusting every few times. He drove me on, firm and encouraging.
“It’s okay, you’ll get better. Pay attention. Try.”
He sighed then, and I felt a bolt of pleasure, that I was somehow moving him with my clumsy attempts. “Be open,” he breathed. “Accept me. You have to learn to be open to me.” He picked up the pace, fucking my mouth, holding my head in his hands. By now, tears of strain were streaming down my face.
“Now,” he said, “lick my balls. Put your hands on my thighs, put your face right up in there.” I tried my best to do what he asked. I lapped at his balls carefully, lost in new sensations, velvet skin and rough hair tickling my nose. The masculine scent of him permeated my senses, made me feel wild and wanton. “Harder,” he coached, “broad strokes with your tongue. Oh Jesus,” he said, his fingers twining in my hair. “Yes, just like that.” Soon afterward, he thrust back into my mouth and came in the back of my throat with a growl. Just as he’d told me to, I swallowed every drop of his cum as if it was the most delicious nectar on
earth.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered when he finally pulled away from me, whether in frustration or appreciation, I had no idea. He yanked me to my feet and looked down at my wide eyes, my damp cheeks.
“Are you turned on?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said breathlessly, and I was.
“Lie down on your back. Part your legs, put your fingers on your clit.” I did, and he knelt down next to me. “Masturbate,” he said. “Don’t be self-conscious. When I tell you, you’re going to come.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, played with myself nervously.
“Look at me. Open your eyes,” he snapped. “You’re coming for me, not for yourself.” And I remembered then what he’d told me. If I tell you to come and you don’t, I’ll punish you.
I was going to disappoint him already because I couldn’t do it. I knew that I couldn’t.
“Do it. Play with yourself,” he said. “I want to watch. Make yourself come.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I whimpered.
He stood up and crossed to the armoire, which made me panic. He didn’t bring anything too scary though, just some small silver clips. I watched him, going still.
“Don’t stop.” He put his fingers over mine, making them move. Then, while I watched him, he tugged and flicked my nipples, making them taut and hard as stones. I held my breath as he opened the clips, attaching first one, and then the other to my sensitive peaks. My pelvis came up off the floor and I moaned like a wild thing. I’d never felt anything so erotically painful in my life.
He looked at me, bemused, and whispered, “Do you like that?” Then he put his hand over mine, over my clit, and thrust his fingers in and out of me, and put his lips to mine and whispered to me, “Come.” And with a helpless cry of relief, that’s exactly what I did. I came like crazy, came like I’d never come in my life. I bucked against his fingers, completely gone. My vision blurred, my blood sang in my veins and my whole pelvis seemed to contract and release in excruciating pleasure.