Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (50 page)

"I'll get to your clit when I'm ready. No cheating." His tone is harsh, he sounds displeased, and that crushes me.

"I'm sorry Sir. I won't... Oh!" He plunges two fingers deep into my pussy. I find it impossible to string any further coherent words together. He finger-fucks me hard, his hand angling to find my G-spot. I jerk as he locates it, and he rubs. Just there. Moments later I unravel as my first orgasm shimmers and ripples to the surface, taking my breath away. It's not a major one, I know there are more powerful climaxes in store, but that first, tender release sort of paves the way, demonstrates that he can and will meet my needs, if I just trust him.

As I stop trembling he withdraws his clever fingers and steps to one side.

"I've yet to meet a submissive who could count much beyond about five, but you're welcome to try. Six slaps, then the same with the paddle. After that I reckon you'll be about ready to come again. We'll see, shall we?"

I can only nod. Earlier he would have insisted on the words but the gesture is enough this time.

One. Two. Three.

Despite Iain McCain's doubts on the matter, I manage to count the slaps perfectly well. He drops them on each cheek in turn, and never in the same place twice. The first four are fairly light, but the last two, right on my sit spots, are harder and bring me up onto my toes.

"Aagh! Christ, Sir, that hurts."

"It's meant to. Now we'll find out how you respond to a decent paddling. Ready?"

"Yes, I think so, Sir."
Probably.

He stalks over to the chest and returns with a large paddle, shaped like a table tennis bat. I clench, expecting to feel its bite immediately. The butt plug feels huge inside me, filling me. Iain takes hold of the finger grip and revolves it several times more, re-awakening the sensation and sending jolts of ecstasy straight to my clit.

"Oh, Sir..." I writhe on the bench, desperate for him to touch me again. There's a faint whistle as he swings the paddle, then a harsh crack as it connects with the skin of my bottom. I let out a shriek.

"One." His tone is clipped and cool, and utterly sexy.

I tense, my bottom clenching around the plug as he swings again. "Two." And again. "Three."

"Sir, Sir..." I'm moaning, grasping at the bench, wriggling my body against it. The clamps no longer hurt, the pain obliterated by the other sensations now bombarding me.

"Four. Five." He shifts his stance. "Lift your bottom up a little more. I want this last one to sting."

I do as he says, presenting my vulnerable sweet spot for one last spank.

"Six."

My lower left cheek takes the full force of the stroke. I come up on my toes again, letting out a shrill scream. "Oh God, Sir. Christ..."

He chuckles, the bastard. "Just Sir is fine. Spread your legs a little more, subbie."

I do, but there's something else. Something more. My brain is fuzzy, my thinking distorted, but I know he said there was something I should do. Should tell him. "The nipple clamps Sir."

"Yes? What about them?"

"You need to tighten them, Sir."

"I see. Thank you. Roll over onto your back then and put your hands behind your head."

I do as he asks, peering up at him through lashes spiky with tears. His image is blurred as he leans over me to inspect my nipples.

"Is this your first time with clamps?" He flicks one swollen, hard nub with his finger and I can't contain my scream. Whatever possessed me to think the pain had subsided?

"Yes, Sir," I whimper. "I'm not sure I like them any more."

He chuckles. "That's enough then, for your first time. I'll take them off now. It's going to hurt, so after that you might appreciate another orgasm, I think."

I think so, too.

"Keep your back arched, just like that. However much it hurts you are not to move. You can scream if you like though."

I do scream. Loud and clear, and fit to bring the neighbours running – if he had any. He wastes no time in loosening the tweezers and removing them, and the blood rushes back into my poor, abused nubs. The pain is indescribable, blinding almost, though short-lived. I'm shaking when the waves of agony recede, but I have managed to obey and remain still throughout the ordeal.

"Good girl. You deserve a reward." He returns to the chest, this time to collect a dildo. It's large, the phallic shape quite mesmerising. Even so, I think I might prefer the real thing.

"Sir, fuck me, please. I want you."

"You shall have me, girl, but I have other plans for you first." He casts an appraising glance at my pussy. "Plenty wet enough, I'd say. You're positively dripping down here. I’m guessing you’re having a good time."

Is that a rhetorical question?
Probably, since he does not seem inclined to press me for an answer.

He parts my pussy lips with his thumbs, then places the dildo between them. He slides it inside, right to the hilt. The dual penetration is intense, my entire body feels stuffed, crammed impossibly full. I lie there, my back to the bench, gasping as my pussy stretches and re-shapes around the toy.

"Okay?"

"Yes, I think so, Sir. But I..."

"Hush. Enjoy."

I frown, puzzled, then let out a startled yelp as he flicks a switch concealed in his palm. The remote controlled vibrator springs into life sending ripples of pure joy the length of my inner channel. "Oh! Oh, my Lord!"

"Nice?"

Yes! No!
Confused, overwhelmed, I reach for his hand. "It's too much, Sir. Too intense. Please..."

He squeezes my fingers. "I have you, sweetheart. Let it happen."

His gentle words and assured touch are enough. I settle, begin to breathe evenly, riding the waves of sensation now pulsing through me. Iain leans over to kiss me, his lips soft and warm against mine. His free hand is between my legs, strumming my engorged clit. Moments later I explode. Or implode. Whatever, the orgasm is powerful and all-consuming, crashing through my nervous system with the force of a tsunami. I reach for him, grasping his arm, clinging on for dear life as my climax sizzles out to sear every nerve ending.

At last, it is over. The faint aftershocks are still pulsing but my body is relaxing again. Iain switches the vibrator off, then removes it. He scoops me from the bench and carries me to the bed where he sits back against the pillows, wraps his arms around me and rocks me against him. I cling on, my arms around his neck, reluctant to ever let go.

"You okay?" His voice is soft, caring.

"Mmm, yes, I am. I think. It was just... So intense. I didn't expect..."

"Here, take a sip of this." He has produced a small bottle of chilled water from somewhere and now presses the open top against my lips. I gulp at it, greedy, thirstier than I knew. I pause. "More?"

I nod, and take the bottle from him. In seconds, I've downed half of it. I hand it back. He replaces the top and drops it on the floor beside the bed.

"Ready to continue?"

"Continue?"

"Oh, yes. You didn't imagine a couple of orgasms and a spanking paddle were all I have in store for you, did you?"

Well come to think of it, no. But I might be persuaded to settle for that. Except, Iain shows no sign of wanting to convince me enough is enough. Instead he stands up with me still in his arms and carries me back to the bench.

"Original position, but this time I will use the straps. You're a bit wobbly now and I wouldn't want you to fall."

"No, Sir. Thank you." I drape myself across the spanking bench and place my hands in each of the leather cuffs when directed to do so. Next Iain secures my ankles, and my knees, to render me effectively immobile.

"Remember, red means you want to stop."

I watch as he returns to the chest to select his next implement, and cringe when he picks up one of the tawses. I've never experienced the effect, but submissives talk, and I know those things sting. He swings it beside his legs as he returns to the bench to regard his target, my upturned bottom.

"Your arse is already pretty red, but we can do a lot better yet. You may want to consider upgrading to a comfier seat on the plane."

"I want marks, Sir. I want something to remember this by." My inner pain slut is making her views known.

"I think I can promise you a glorious set of marks that won't fade any time soon.

His voice is like liquid chocolate, rich, dark and so seductive. I melt into the bench, glad of the restraints which free me from the need to make any effort at all to stay in place. I can relax, drift, simply be.

"Six again. Ready?"

"Yes, Sir."

There's a whistling sound, then the leather wraps itself around my unprotected bottom. I gasp. It hurts. It hurts so much, but the sensation is truly exquisite, too.

"One."

The whistle again, then a loud crack as my other cheek explodes in agony. "Two."

The pain is exhilarating, breath-taking. I can only suppose my endorphins have kicked in somewhere along the line because it's bearable, just.

"Three. Four."

I'm screaming now as each stroke lands, but my mood is one of elation. I'm flying, out of my body, soaring on an updraft of pure sensation. Iain McCain is orchestrating my response, carrying me on this journey as he stimulates my senses, taking me to heights I could only imagine before, then allowing me to drift back down.

"Five." That one lands on my sweet spot and my clit throbs.

"Six." Again on my sweet spot. I'm thrusting my hips, desperate for my next orgasm, so close, yet tantalisingly out of reach.

There's a slap of leather against wood as Iain drops the tawse. I lie still, suspended between dream and reality, wanting more, wanting something...

"Oh, God. Yes!"

His cock is at my entrance, the wide, sleek head stretching me, pushing inside. I arch my spine as much as I am able, opening for him. He inches forward, his entry slow, careful, infinitely gentle. I want it hard and rough and brutal, but it isn't to be. Iain drives his cock forward, the motion smooth and controlled until he fills me completely. The dildo looked huge, felt enormous, but Iain is more. Much, much more. I gyrate my hips, squeezing down around him. The sensation is heightened further as he rotates the butt plug again, sending a wave of gentle pressure through both my channels.

He leans over me, his elbows resting on the arms of the bench, beside mine. I am positioned at the perfect height and angle, naturally. Just as he said. He withdraws, then drives his erection back into my pussy, this time harder. He does it again, harder still, and I start to convulse around him. His strokes now are swift and powerful, as though making up for his moderation of a few seconds ago. He stands up, his hands on my hips as he drives his cock in and out of me, like a piston. I cry out, demanding more.

He delivers more, and more still. I'm close, my orgasm bubbling and boiling to the surface. "Sir, I want to come. Need to—"

"Wait." The command is terse, his voice like gravel.

"I can't. I—"

A hard slap to the side of my right buttock presses his point home. "I said, wait."

I bury my face in the soft suede, fighting against my response. He means it. I have to obey, mustn't let him down. But it's difficult. Impossible.

"Sir, Sir..."

"Wait. I'll tell you when you can come."

I subside into a frenzy of futile clenching, attempt to angle my body to avoid the constant contact with my clit. Anything to lessen the sensation, buy me more precious seconds. None of it helps. I'm beyond desperate.

"Now. You can come now and make it good."

I don't need telling twice. My climax is ripping through me almost before he finishes speaking, reducing me to a shivering, shuddering mass of nerve endings. Iain, too, is there. He rams his cock deep and holds still, his erection lurching inside me as he shoots ribbons of hot semen into my channel.

He falls forward to lie across me, his weight on top of me for once. I don't mind, especially when he lifts my hair from the nape of my neck and kisses me there. "Quite a ride, little subbie. Loved that."

"Me too, Sir."

"I think we need something just a little less intense now, something sensual rather than painful. Do you want to continue?"

Wild horses couldn't drag me away. I mutter my answer. "Yes, Sir. Please."

Chapter Five

––––––––

I
ain strolls over to the chest and I watch, my mood somewhere between content and bloody elated. Every cell in my body is alive, switched on, sensitised to the least touch, the merest whisper of contact. I trust him, utterly. He turns to face me, and I let out a sigh. I knew it would be that. The violet wand. This will be another first for me, one I'm desperate to experience.

"You know what this is, Rose? What it does?"

"Yes, Sir. Electrical play."

"Have you tried it before?"

"No, Sir."

"Okay, a fairly gentle introduction then."

He approaches me again and I get a clear view of the toy. He has attached the comb extension. I remember reading somewhere that this is one of the less intense uses of this particular equipment, and I wonder if I may be just a little disappointed. Pain slut that I am, I want more. I know better than to attempt to direct operations though: my Dom is in charge.

There's a faint crackling sound when he activates the switch. I flinch, despite my eagerness.

"I won't hurt you. This is the lowest setting, and I think you'll love it."

I have no reason to argue with him. He's been right about everything else so far. So I don't reply, just flex my restrained body as he moves in alongside me. He caresses my back, trailing his palm across my shoulders than down my spine. It feels heavenly. He repeats, applying more pressure this time, and continues down to massage the cheeks of my bum. The pain is sharp, my tender skin sore as he presses on. His fingers trail across my pussy, the lips swollen and wet from being so thoroughly fucked just minutes ago. I groan, forgetting about the violet wand for a few moments as he strokes my dripping folds.

He sinks two fingers into my pussy, at the same time as he draws the violet wand along my shoulder blades. The sensation is a curious prickling, hot but not burning. I arch my spine, gasping. It's unlike anything I've felt before.