I don’t think she’s been free since you kidnapped her, Lake.
Her soft buttocks wobbled as he pulled the destroyed jeans from underneath her, and she whimpered once more. His fingers insinuated under the lace of her thong, and he ripped it from her body, the sound firing his lust once more, the surprised cry from behind the tape making him smile, despite himself.
Then Lake eyed the pillows piled at the head of the bed and the two implements still lying across the mattress next to the rapidly breathing and very naked Lily. The lush, round buttocks had broken out in goose flesh, and he smoothed a palm over them to feel the texture of it, to feel the fright in her trembling flesh. His hand eased between the tightly clenched thighs, fingertips whispering down the thin line between her smooth legs.
His fingers traced over the stiff brown leather of the paddle, tracing the four letters burned into the center of it. He moved to the long, supple leather strap next to it, the end cut into two hard-edged tongues that he knew would bite like fire when wielded with a will. He wondered which one the girl needed, which one he wanted to give her.
And as he stood there adjusting the huge erection twisting in his jeans, he wondered if he’d lost his mind.
* * *
The only sound I heard was that of my own heart beating at a frantic pace, my own breathing loud from inside my chest. The blindfold was wet, and I thought if he took the tape off my mouth, I’d vomit, my throat felt so full, like I was going to choke on fear.
Fear.
I couldn’t stop shaking, my body an earthquake, and when I splayed out my hands to cover my bottom, my fingers brushed his and I pulled them back, adrenaline forcing action from me, forcing me to cry out from behind the tape and try one more time, just once more, to get away from him, even as I knew how hopeless, how pathetic the effort was.
“Now, now, Lily,” he said, gripping my thigh hard enough to hurt while his voice maintained a calm that told me he had a plan, that he’d given this some thought. “You asked for this remember,” he said, setting what I knew to be the strap I’d seen before he had blindfolded me onto my shoulder. The leather was so close to my face, I could smell it, and when he began to drag the weight of it slowly down my back, I did cover my ass with my hands.
“That won’t do at all,” he said.
His hands worked and in a moment, my own were free. Confused, I fought his grip. He let them go for one instant, flipping me onto my back, and when he did, even with my ankles bound, I brought my knees up to fight him, clawing at whatever part of him I could get close to. He made a sound, a grunt, and I knew I’d hurt him at least a little, but I knew at the same time that the hurt he would do to me would be ten times that, a hundred times.
Pushing my legs flat, he straddled me and my wrists were quickly re-bound in the cuffs. I stopped then, out of breath, out of fight and he patted my face, saying something I didn’t quite hear. I squeezed my eyes shut thinking he might slap me but he didn’t. Instead, I was flipped back over onto my stomach, but this time, he took my arms and stretched them toward the headboard and I heard something click into place. When his hands left mine, I tugged only to find myself trapped, the cuffs locked to something either against the headboard or the wall, I didn’t know which. He pulled me down toward the foot of the bed and my legs dangled off until they too were linked and I was effectively stretched, my legs half on the bed, half off.
The bed creaked when he stood. “There,” he said, still somehow calm. I imagined him standing back, watching me, taking in every naked inch of my bound, stretched body.
My own breathing came fast then as the full realization of my vulnerability dawned on me. I think I was trying to beg then. Tears were coming fast and I pleaded for him not to hurt me, begged his forgiveness from behind the tape.
“What’s that, Lily?” he asked, tugging the pillows out from under my arms and pressing them beneath my hips, lifting my ass higher. “I’m sorry. I can’t quite understand you.”
His words seemed to come from some distant place. I was so caught up in what I knew was coming, what I knew there was no way out of. I wanted to go back to that little bedroom. My room. I wanted out of here.
“What did you say?” he asked again.
He patted the strap against my ass, taking aim. I pulled ankles and wrists, frantic to free myself, managing to push the blindfold askew at least off one eye. I looked ahead at the dark wall through the metal rungs of the headboard, saw the ring he’d clipped the cuffs to. I turned my head in time to see him swing his arm hard, his eyes on mine as I screamed from behind the tape when the leather seared a stripe of pure fire across my ass.
“How’s that, Lily?” he asked, patting the strap against my ass again.
Another scream before he even struck, the pain forcing tears from my eyes. I’d never felt anything like this before. This pain was unreal.
He didn’t wait this time, laying another punishing stroke down at the juncture between my bottom and my thighs. I tensed every muscle, squeezing my legs together, clenching my buttocks tight. Another stroke, this one dead center.
“You know what?” he asked, pausing, coming toward me, the weight of one knee depressing the mattress by my face. “I think,” he began as he adjusted the blindfold over my eyes once more, “I might like to hear the sound of your screams.” He pulled the tape painfully from my mouth, causing more hot tears from my eyes.
“Please, Lake. Please...”
“You don’t have to beg me, honey,” he said, moving behind me again. “I know what you need.”
I heard the sound of the strap coming this time and clenched everything tight in anticipation, but it didn’t diminish the pain, not even a little. My scream filled the room and I hadn’t quite absorbed the sound of it before another stroke burned my ass.
I was going to die. He was going to kill me. I was convinced of it as stroke after stroke fell covering the whole of my bottom, the tops of my thighs. He seemed untiring while I screamed until I had nothing left, no voice, no breath, only pain, absolute pain.
If he thought he hadn’t made his point, he was dead wrong.
“That’s it,” he said, a hand slapping my ass hard, the different sensation causing me to jump to attention. “Lie there and take your punishment. Ten more.”
“Please. It’s enough. I promise I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The blindfold was drenched and I wiped my face against my arm. Sweat covered me, the heat of my punished flesh degrees hotter than anything else.
He rubbed my bottom, his touch almost soft as he covered both mounds. I thought he’d changed his mind. I thought, as I listened to his breathing calm, that he took pity on me, that it was over. But then he stopped rubbing and stepped back.
“Count them.”
My sobbing took on a whole new meaning then. He wouldn’t stop, not until he’d delivered every last one of those ten strokes and it wouldn’t matter what I said, how much I cried or begged, how raw he whipped my ass. He would do this; there would be no mercy. Not today, not any day. Not with him. He was teaching me.
I shuddered as the first of the final ten landed.
“Lily,” he urged, drawing out the way he said my name. “I’ll keep going until you count.”
“One!”
“Good girl. Now keep your ass nice and soft for me. Relax your muscles. Soft. That’s it. Be good.”
His words were almost gentle but the leather unforgiving, cruel even. I called out the count every time, tried to relax my muscles every time he reminded me to and took the last of the strokes. And when it was done, I went limp, weeping into my arms, soaking the bed with my tears.
The strap landed on the floor with a thud but I remained as I was. He didn’t speak and when his fingertips grazed my ass, I flinched but didn’t pull away. His touch felt strange, not good, I was too tender for that, but it somehow reassured? It made no sense but all I could do was remain as I was, and when he pulled my cheeks apart, I tensed but only for a moment. He spread me open and I swallowed, grateful suddenly for the blindfold, grateful not to have to look at him as he surely looked at me, at my most private places. My face burned with shame while his fingers moved between my bottom cheeks and grazed the open lips of my pussy before trailing higher, circling my back hole.
But that was all and I don’t know if I was grateful or not when he stopped.
He freed my legs both from the thing I’d been bound to and the cuffs that kept my ankles together. He left my arms as they were but I was able to draw my knees up, tucking them underneath my hips, crawling slowly, painfully onto the bed, my burning ass high in the air, not caring what I looked like.
“There,” he said, rolling me onto my side. “Punishment is over.” He lifted my head onto his lap and with the gentlest touch, removed the blindfold. “Shh…” he coaxed, fingers pushing the hair off my wet face. “I hope you learned your lesson, Lily,” he said. “I hope you’ll not make me punish you like this again.”
I looked up at him through wet lashes, the image of him blurred.
We stayed like that for a while, him looking at me, touching my face, brushing my hair back coaxing me to stop crying, and in time, I did. I stopped and my breathing slowly returned to normal but throughout that time, however long it was, I couldn’t not look at him. What I felt I don’t know. I didn’t have a word for it. What I saw in his eyes, well, that too was indescribable. They were dark, darker than usual and when he slowly moved to stand, I made a sound. It wasn’t any word, simply sound, but he understood my meaning even when I could not. He stayed as he was, kept my head on his lap, caressed my shoulder and slowly turned me onto my back. I groaned when my bottom made contact with the rough blanket but I didn’t fight him. Perhaps I had learned to obey.