Safeword: Davenport(74)

As Brent lowered it, Jacob scooted his feet outward, spreading his legs more and more as the sawhorse came down. When the dot lined up, his legs were spread desperately wide.

"Wow, he's very... flexible."

"Yes, he's required to do an hour of yoga four times a week. He can do the splits all three ways, and can achieve a number of other positions I often require of him. Once you're through paddling him I can tie his feet to the top of the horse, forcing him into the splits while you fuck him, if you'd like."

"I... I'll let you know. It's an intriguing idea, but... we'll see."

His cock hung over the top brace of the sawhorse, still encased in shiny steel, the angle allowing her to see how the ring around his balls anchored the wicked contraption to his body. Her arousal leapt at the notion of having so much control wielded over you—pain just for the act of being aroused, even when no one was around to know. Total regulation of your sexuality.

She walked to Jacob and touched his lower back, rubbing small circles around his sacrum. She wanted to sooth and relax him with her hand while creating tension with her words. “I'll give these strikes without stopping or slowing. It's going to be fast, and this is your warm up."

She did one slow motion movement to assure her hot pink cock wouldn't interfere, and moved her hips back to get it out of the way. Raising the paddle, she took a breath and went to work. Three on his right cheek, three on his left, setting up a nice rhythm.

After a while she switched to two on the right, two on the left. When she thought he was warmed up, her final strikes alternated left and right, using all of her strength. The impact traveled through her arms and into her chest, all the way down to her pussy. She felt the bruises on her back with the motion, too... but it was a good hurt, shooting heat all the way through her.

She laid the paddle down and plucked a glove from the box on the worktable. His rapid breathing and small muscle shifts told her he was still dealing with the pain, so she placed her ungloved left hand on his sacrum again, giving him an anchor.

He took a deep breath, and she allowed him a few seconds to center himself before she gingerly tugged on the plug, saying, “Let go of it for me.” She kept a steady pressure, pulling gently, making him relax around it, and knowing how hard it could be to push a plug out after having to hold it in for so long. She stopped it at the widest point, marveling at how his asshole stretched around the unforgiving metal, how the crinkles unfurled to create more space. His groans were turning into squeals, so she pulled it out and dropped it in the bowl Brent set on the table.

"I'm not ready to fuck him yet, but while I'm wearing the glove I'd like to get him lubed and stretched, so I don't have to worry with it later."

"He doesn't need stretching. Take the glove off, I'll use the lube launcher."

While Brent prepared him, Dana walked back to the dresser and retrieved the Lexan paddle. She'd changed her mind, the idea of giving him more intense pain was turning her on, after all. Plus, the holes were star shaped, and as she considered it, she wanted to see stars on his ass.

She didn't touch him this time—no anchor and no warning. However, she wanted to dial up his anxiety, so she looked at Brent and asked, “You're sure he'll stay put?"

"Punishment for moving out of position involves being restrained twenty-four/seven for ten to thirty days, at my discretion. He also wears the jailbird, and when he's working he's in a tight rubber corset. When home, he's in a cage or tied to the bed, but if I need him for something he's hobbled at ankles and wrists, with only enough range to accomplish his task. The only exceptions are for his yoga sessions, and when he runs—where his only bondage is the jailbird."

Dana decided he needed touch after all, so she rubbed his ass, fondled his balls, and then went to town. She gave him thirty strokes to his left cheek. The first two were moderate, and she ramped up from there, watching his reactions and leveling off at the eighteenth strike. She let him have it on the final two, though, reveling in his fight to stay put as he struggled to keep his hands and feet in place.

Her pussy was on fire, her clit throbbing, and she was breathing hard; who'd have thought witnessing him endeavor to accept her pain, battle to remain where she'd told him, could ignite her into a red haze of lust. The dildo inside of her was making itself known, too, as she worked her muscles to assure it stayed in when she took a step.

She moved towards Jacob's ass, noted his cock, red and distended inside the jailbird, and fisted her plastic one—lining up and pushing home in a single smooth stroke. The height was perfect, and the dildo pressed exquisitely inside of her as she drove into Jacob, sensations rocketing through her. She held still, giving him a chance to get used to her, leaning forward and running her hands over his back, on either side of his spine.