Kinky(20)

I get to twelve, I think, then I plead for a break.

He rubs my spine while I gather my breath and my wits, moving his hand lower and lower until it caresses my hot bottom.

‘Looks good,’ he tells me. ‘You like it?’

‘Yeah. It hurts but I could take more. Just needed a break. Not ready to finish yet, unless you want to.’

‘OK, that is useful information. I use this for warm-up or for long erotic spanking. There is heavier thing in the cupboard, maybe that is for punishment.’

‘Maybe,’ I agree, distracted by the pooling of juices between my heated pussy lips. I think back to the demonstration we saw in the dungeon next door. Will Dimitri flog my pussy? I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. A simple fingering will suffice today. Perhaps now?

But he isn’t ready to oblige yet. My bottom must suffer on.

‘Shall we start again?’ He pats my recovering bum, still warm, but not particularly sore, though the skin feels tight and sensitive.

‘OK, sir.’

The worst part of this is the strain on my thigh and calf muscles, I think to myself. Then I change my tune.

Wood meets flesh in a bloodcurdling duet of pain and anguish.

‘OW!’ I yell in objection, leaping upright and clutching my backside.

Dimitri laughs and taps the paddle on to the site of its first assault. ‘That is a good one, eh? Hurts a lot?’

‘Yes, it bloody does.’

‘OK, I take it easier to start. Back down, please.’

I eye him suspiciously, but eventually resume my position, trusting him to do as he has promised.

He applies the paddle with a lighter hand. It still hurts, but it’s bearable for twenty moderate strokes. I settle into the sensation, enjoying the uncompromising crack of the swats as they bounce and echo off the prison-white walls. Occasionally, I have to shift from foot to foot or howl out loud, until I am shifting and howling almost perpetually and then he ups the ante again, dealing six solid shockers. After the sixth I beg for mercy and he stops again.

My bottom is throbbing, the heat searing way down below the skin. Sitting down will definitely need to be done with care.

‘That will bruise,’ he decides, pressing fingertips into my flesh so that I wince. ‘So I take it easier if client don’t want bruises.’

‘I love your … scientific approach … to this,’ I pant, rational thought being far from my own mind. ‘I never realised … being a laboratory assistant … could be this … interesting.’

‘Ah, my assistant.’ He seems to like this thought. He drops to a crouch to look more closely at the state he has made of my bum, thumbs pressed into the under hang of my cheeks. ‘You know, in Russia we have a saying: Without torture, no science.’

‘Really? Well, you’re a great scientist then.’

He laughs and kisses my right arse cheek. I hold on to my breath while my pussy spasms. Oh, kiss me lower, kiss away my juices.

His lips drift down and, when he speaks, his words buzz against my nether lips. ‘You don’t want the cane?’

‘Not today. Not ready.’ I push back. He plants a lingering kiss on my wettest spot. ‘Please, oh, please.’

‘I lock the door.’

The most welcome words I could hear. I let my neck and shoulders relax and drop my forehead to the worn-smooth wood of the chair, then rest my cheek against its grain. My bottom still throbs, the skin stretched taut and sizzling, and my legs are starting to ache, the knees feeling locked, but I don’t care. I want one thing, and I want it from him.

‘This science, it make me want to fuck,’ he says gravely, returning to my open legs and pushing his hand between them. ‘I think for you also.’ His fingers pinch and squeeze and rub. ‘You are comfortable there? Your legs shake.’

Maybe a bit less pressure on my feet might be good. But there is no bed in here.

He kisses me, carefully, on the inside of each thigh, then he braces his arms around my waist and lifts me to my feet until I am held with my head in the crook of his shoulder, leaning back into him, ready to fall and be caught.

‘Mm.’ He kisses my neck, sucking lightly at the tender skin. ‘I think here is best.’

He leads me to a gymnasium vaulting horse at the back of the room and lifts me on to it so that my stomach is cushioned by the leather-padded top and my legs dangle down, not quite reaching the floor.

I hear him shuck off his robe and unbuckle the many belts. There is a snap and the smell of latex hits my nostrils. I am ready … set …

And we’re off.

He takes it slowly, penetrating me with care and attention to my rapidly bruising bottom.

I like the feel of him behind me, between my thighs, standing and thrusting forwards while I flounder over the horse. I feel very small and submissive, stuck here with no choice but to take my punisher’s cock until he is satisfied that I have understood the nature of our bond. Him on top, giving it; me underneath, taking it.