Wild Submission(15)

I hear her gasp in shock. I hide my smile. I would never break in a new sub by going straight for the extreme tools, but a little fear is healthy to teach her some respect.

“Or maybe not.” I put the toys down and turn back to her. “I don’t need any extra help to punish you. I’m more than capable of making you beg with just my own hands.”

Her pupils flare. She wets her lips, nervous, and the gesture goes straight to my cock. Damn. I want to own that mouth so badly, thrust into her wet, empty mouth until my cum is spurting hot down her throat.

Soon.

I stride back to the bench and lean over her, running one hand through her silky hair and down over her back. I rest it gently on the swell of her ass.

“Take hold of the bench,” I instruct her. “And under no circumstances are you to let go.”

She gulps, grabbing on to the specially-designed handles that extend down by the ground. Her thighs part, revealing the scrap of pink lace covering her mound. Now her body is braced and open to me.

I spank her hard and without warning.

Isabelle shrieks, jolting forward against the bench. Before she can recover, I spank her again, a series of short, sharp blows. She yelps every time my hand makes impact with the smooth skin of her ass, but I’m careful to vary where each slap falls, never hitting the same spot twice as I continue, relentless.

Two. Three. Four.

I can feel her body bracing against impact now, feel the tremble in her limbs.

“Please,” she gasps. “Cam!”

Five. Six. Seven.

She lets go of the bench and tries to scramble away. “No. Stay.” I fist her hair in one hand, yanking her back in place as I let the final blows rain down with perfect accuracy.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

I stop.

Isabelle collapses forwards, sobbing on the bench. I let her weep.

She’s not crying from the pain, just the shock of it. I was careful: I never apply more pressure than absolutely necessary, and although her ass is mottled red now from the impact of my hand, the marks will fade soon.

The lesson won’t.

I see every handprint like a victory mark. Power courses through me like a drug, but I don’t pause to savor it. She’s felt the pain of disobedience, only now she can learn the pleasure of submission.

“Good girl,” I murmur softly. I gently caress her back and ass, smoothing softly where I just struck hard. My fingertips whisper over her skin, soothing. “You’ve been such a good girl.”

Isabelle swallows back her tears. She lifts her face to me. “That hurt!”

I smirk. “It was supposed to.”

She clenches her jaw stubbornly. “So, was that it? My punishment?”

I stroke again, this time delving deeper between her thighs. Isabelle catches her breath. I tease over the damp silk there, nudging gently.

“What do you think?”

Isabelle pushes back against my hand. “That feels good,” she whispers.

“That’s because your body is in a heightened state of awareness,” I explain to her, stroking and smoothing, delving back to that wet pool of tension. “The pain shocks your nerve system wide awake, and makes every pleasurable touch feel that much sweeter.”

I nudge the silk aside, and skim my fingertip into her slick heat.

Fuck, she’s so wet.

Isabelle lets out a moan. “Please,” she gasps, clenching around my finger.

“Please what?” I ask, pulling back. I lift my finger to my lips and slowly lick it clean.

My cock swells, achingly hard. God, this is so much better than I imagined. Hearing her beg for me. Seeing the marks of victory branded on her flesh. Tasting her sweetness.

“More.” She wriggles her ass back, wanting me to touch her again.

“More pleasure, or more pain?” I counter. “You can’t have one without the other.”

There’s silence. I can feel the indecision in her body, the tension as she weighs my offer.

“More.” She says it again, and this time, there’s a note of raw need in her voice. “Please, Master. Whatever you want.”

She’s learning so fast.

I lean closer and murmur in her ear. “Let go, my sweet. I want to hear you scream for me. I want to hear you beg.”

I unleash another set of blows on that tender ass, and this time, I make them count. Sharp, hard, fast. Isabelle cries out with every slap, but I can hear her voice thicken with desire, until she’s gasping, lost in the frenzy of sensation.

“Cam!” she cries, gripping the bench tightly. “Oh God, please! Please!”

Her body jolts with impact, her flesh trembling. With no warning, I suddenly exchange hard for soft, brutal for sensuous: smoothing over the reddened skin and down between her thighs to stroke her swollen clit.