He stills, inhales sharply through his nose. His hand wraps around my throat, holding it just tight enough to put the fear of god inside me, but not enough to cut off my air supply. It hurts all the same because my muscles and tissue are already tender. “You forget that name. From now on you call me Sir, or Master, or fucking God. You do not get to call me by my name. Filthy fucking dirty whores do not get to use my name.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Sir!” Spittle flies from his mouth as he hisses the words in my face.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
He drags me across the room and sits on the chair, yanking me down on top of him. I fight. I struggle, but I’m useless. I may as well be a mouse trying to move a titan. I’m on my stomach, bent over his lap as if I were a small child, and as if that weren’t already humiliating enough, his huge hand comes down on my ass. The sharpclaprings out in my tiny cell. I still. My flesh burns, and his hand comes down again. Over and over, he spanks me until I’m squirming and crying out from pain as much as embarrassment.
He doesn’t relent. Tears burn my cheeks in thick salty trails.
“Who do you belong to?” His voice isn’t at all strained as he asks. His erection presses into my stomach, and I’m both sick and aroused. I’m terrified, and shaken to the core. I put one hand up to stop the blow, but he catches it with his own and uses it to secure me so I can’t get away, all the while the punishment keeps coming until it feels as if my ass is on fire.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Me. I belong to me.”
“Wrong answer,” he practically purrs, as if all the anger has leeched out of him and morphed into something else, something calmer, methodical, and far more terrifying.
Several more strikes land on my burning flesh from my upper thighs, to the crease between my ass and legs, and finally to the top of my buttocks. Those ones really hurt, but he doesn’t hit me there often. I cry. I sob, and twist against the violence of every blow, until I don’t. At some point, I stop fighting. All the blood has rushed to my head, and the endorphins combined with adrenalin and fear meld inside my mind until I become a red-faced, drooling mess.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” I say through my tears.
“Me, what?” Another blow hits my rump, and my insides tighten.
“You, Sir. I belong to you.”
The beating stops.
The silence is thick with my anger and rage, my treachery, and worst of all . . . my submission. In no time at all I’ve betrayed myself, and given in to him. Given myself over to him.
“Good girl.” He rubs my bottom, raking his hands softly over the back of my upper thigh and ass cheeks.
I shudder. Whimper. I struggle, but his touch soothes the ache. And then he widens my legs and slips his fingers along the crease of my sex.
I stiffen.
He holds my hand against my back, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. “Relax. I’m going to make the pain disappear completely.”
I sob. My whole body trembles with shock. “Please? Please?” I don’t even know what I’m begging for any more.
“Shh, it’s okay, Pet. I have you.” He slips his hand through my folds, and gently strokes my clit. Though my head is upside down it feels as if all the blood in my body has pooled in my sex. He thrusts his fingers inside me and meets no resistance. I’m wet, aroused, and that knowledge is as humiliating as the spanking I just received.
“So wet for me, Pet. I know just what you need.”
And as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me with brutal violence, and my orgasm starts to build low in my belly, I know he’s right. He knows exactly what I need because he brings me to orgasm so fast my head spins. Wave after wave crashes over me. I come so hard, and I come more than once, and at the end I hate myself, but I still collapse against his body and whisper, “Thank you, Sir.”