In His Cuffs(24)

"I understand."

"You may hold onto my leg if you need to."

The wait seemed interminable.

She'd hoped he'd get on with it, but he rubbed and teased her before applying the rigid leather thong to her skin.

The first stroke across her butt stole her breath.

She'd only experienced a tawse once before, and it had never been as debilitating as this.

The pain screamed through her body and she knew it had left a scorching  mark across her skin. The clamps were uncomfortable, intensifying the  sensation.

He paused, and she took a breath to compose herself.

"When you're ready, put your ass back up in the air."

"Yes, Mr Tomlinson," she said. It took her another few seconds to comply.

He was ruthless and methodical. There was nothing random about the way  he moved lower with each stroke. Knowing what to expect didn't make it  easier to take. He paused between each hit, and she was grateful for the  respite, something she'd never before needed during a spanking.

She screamed when he caught the backs of her knees.

"Gorgeous colour of red," he told her.

For a moment, she considered using her slow word, but the immediacy of  the pain faded, leaving behind the familiar and welcomed sense of  satisfaction.

"On your toes, sub," he instructed. "Turn your toes in a little so I have better access."

Earlier this week, from the soothing rhythm of his belt, she'd reached  subspace. She wouldn't get there this time, she knew. This was beyond  anything she'd experienced.

"Maggie," he prompted.

"Sir … " Thoughts were more difficult to string together than they ever had been.

"Do you need me to repeat myself?"

His voice didn't vibrate with hostility, instead he was calm, probing.  With great concentration, she recalled his instruction. She dug the  balls of her feet into the floor beneath her and used the leverage to  rise up and spread her legs.

"Can you endure another ten?"

She wasn't sure. No doubt she could have if she didn't know how many  were coming. But ten? After what she had already been through? At this  point, she wasn't sure where her limit was.

"For me," he said.

If she looked at him with his chiselled, stern cheekbones, she would be lost. With her eyes closed, she considered her decision.

"You can set the pace by how quickly you get back into position."

She was learning she could deny this man nothing. "Give me your best, Mr  Tomlinson." Even she heard the bravado in her statement.

"You're brave, Maggie."

He blazed the first one on her right thigh. She lowered herself as she  waited for the agony to recede. He hadn't caught both thighs and  diminished the impact. Instead, he'd intensified it.

Gritting her teeth, she signalled she was ready for the next.

"It's okay to cry," he told her as he laid into her again.

"No way, Sir," she responded. She meant it. At this point, it was a matter of pride.

The third and fourth hits from the stern implement almost destroyed her  resolve. He'd told her she could hold onto his leg, so she did. It was  more a death grip than for balance.                       
       
           



       

He was deliberate with his placement, delivering more pain than she'd  ever experienced. She'd heard there was a specific way to use a tawse,  and he'd mastered it.

"Almost there," he said. "Three more."

The relentless assault continued, each swat jarring the clamps and making her pussy sore.

"Last one," he told her.

Since she couldn't move, he positioned her ass where he wanted it.

"That's it."

The crack across her ass reverberated through the room, joined by her scream.

He tossed the tawse on the coffee table and gathered her close to him.

She turned her cheek against him, into him and sought refuge in his solid muscles and the softness of his cotton shirt.

Tears she refused to release stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. She trembled and shook, and he held her.

The spanking had humbled her.

Until him, she had refused aftercare. But the other night at her condo,  she'd surrendered to it. Being vulnerable in those first few minutes  after such an intense experience had made the experience richer. She  didn't have to savour it alone like she had always done.

By measures, she noticed the rich rumble of his voice even if she  couldn't understand his words. Finally, something about removing her  clamps penetrated her haze. "Yes, please."

"Spread your legs."

"My body feels as if it's rubber," she admitted.

He helped her to move, and she was nervous to have the clamps removed.  Without any fuss, he removed them and dropped the mean little pieces  alongside the tawse. That would teach her to underestimate him again.

"I think you've earned an orgasm."

He laid her down and raised her legs over his shoulders. He placed a pillow under her hips then licked her cunt.

"Mr Tomlinson!"

He pinched her labia where the clamps had been affixed. The flesh was  tender and his touch drove her mad. She whimpered and squirmed, but he  wouldn't be deterred.

The leather couch beneath her raw legs and buttocks magnified the agony.

He finger fucked her, licked her, sucked her, pinched her and, when she  couldn't take any more, slid a finger up her tightest hole.

She shattered from the inside out, coming with a hoarse cry as she shamelessly lifted her hips and begged for more.

He obliged, plunging his tongue in her hot moistness then licking her clit.

"I'm going to come again," she warned him.

He increased his motions and brought her off, leaving her feeling as if she had nothing more to give.

"Let's get you in the shower so I can see to your bruises."

Her whole body was sensitised. Her pussy throbbed. The back of her legs and buttocks still felt aflame from his tawse.

His attention to her body wasn't the worst of it. The way he read her  desires-then met them-had pushed her beyond where she'd ever gone  before. She hadn't known she could take that much pain.

What he demanded from her emotionally was something else-he allowed her  no secrets. He'd sensed there was something wrong with her when she  fired off a smartass reply earlier. His ability to see her upset and  hurt disturbed her.

She'd never met anyone like him, and she knew the experience would change her. She hoped she'd survive it.

He scooped her from the couch.

"You can't do this," she protested, grabbing on tightly.

"Because?"

"I'm too heavy."

He looked at her. "I want you to be clear on this, Maggie, I've got you. In all ways."

The reassurance frightened her more than anything.

Upstairs, he deposited her on the bed while he turned on the shower.  When he returned for her, he was naked. His cock was glorious in its  arousal. She wanted it in her with a desperation she'd never had before.  "I am certain I can walk on my own," she told him.

"I think you'll do as you're told."

He carried her into the shower and detached the showerhead to cool off  her body. Afterwards, he wrapped her in a towel then carried her back to  the bedroom where he rubbed arnica into her reddened spots.

"You may have one or two bruises."

"From the way it felt, I expected more than that."

"The weekend is young," he said.

He pulled on a pair of thin workout pants, a clean T-shirt and sandals.

"You won't need clothing," he told her as she headed for her closet. "I'll adjust the temperature so you're comfortable."

"That seems … awkward."

"Natural," he challenged. "And it's how a Dom behaves," he said, his  feet shoulder-width apart and his arms folded across his chest. "You can  fight me all you want, but I will win."                       
       
           



       

She scowled at him. Hanging out in the nude seemed different to her than when they were sceneing.

"Stay there." He went into his closet and came back with a strip of lilac-coloured leather.

"What's that?" she asked unnecessarily.

"A reinforcement of your role," he told her. "It means what we say it does, nothing more."

"And to you?"

"It will keep you in the right frame of mind."

"The naked kind."

He inclined his head. They were having a disagreement, and they both seemed to know it.

"You can take it off at any time and put your clothing back on."

David had softened his tone, and she responded to that.

She'd donned a collar for her night at the Den. That had been for kicks,  nothing more. It amazed her how much more laden this felt.

"Kneel."

Her temptation was to rebel, but she realised they were fighting over  scraps of fabric. She'd packed little more than lingerie and some  don't-appear-in-public skirts. He'd have the same access to her body  regardless.

"Tell me the problem."