Penance (Long Slow Tease, #2) (26 page)

As she waited for him to move, to do something, anything, she wondered if he would spank her. The thought just seemed…wrong to her. Not because she didn’t deserve it, hell she deserved to be paddled until she couldn’t walk and would embrace the pain, but because she worried that it would hurt Wyatt. No matter how much training he’d had, no matter what Petrov tried to teach him, Wyatt couldn’t stand hurting a woman
, and she feared what it would do to his soul to cause her pain like that.

The thought of Wyatt hurting himself on such a fundamental level was unacceptable to her. She pushed off the wedge and turned, looking up at him. “Wyatt, please, you don’t have to do this.”

To her surprise he gave her an amused look. “I don’t have to do what, baby?”

“Spank me. I don’t…if it hurts you
, I don’t want you to do it. Please.”

Shaking his head, he turned her around and pushed her back into position by pressing his hand between her shoulder blades. “Michelle, you need to trust me. Now shut the fuck up and take your punishment.”

At the open menace in his tone her body tightened in fear. He didn’t sound unsure, if anything he sounded…smug. What the hell had Petrov done to her man that he would so easily spank her when before her betrayal he’d been disgusted by the thought of hurting her? Had she broken something in Wyatt that could never be fixed? Had she damaged him so much that his view of the world had shifted on a fundamental level? Shame filled her that she’d taken this gentle, yet incredibly strong man and made him capable of an action that at one time would have sickened him.

He ran his rough hand over the curve of her ass, making a pleased sound. “I won’t be spanking you, Michelle, or caning you, or whipping you. What I have in mind is going to be much, much worse. By the time I’m done with you I promise you’ll be begging me for mercy, but I want you to suffer for your lack of faith in me, in yourself, in what we have.”

Thousands of different punishments ran through her mind, from electroplay to clothespins, leaving her off kilter as she tried to figure out what he was going to do.

To her shock Wyatt slipped his fingers between the soaked lips of her sex, making a soft, rumbling sound of approval that had her bucking back against his hand.

“So little self-control. I see I’m going to have to strap you down.”

Before she could take a breath he was pulling stretchy cloth bands with Velcro on either end over her torso, pinning her to the wedge.
She gave an experimental wiggle and tried to hide her grimace at the fact that she couldn’t move. Then he placed another strap over the backs of her thighs, securing it to the wedge as well so she was pinned. A little nibble of panic began to invade her thoughts and demand she unstrap herself, that she retake control of the situation, but she pushed it away. She was strong enough to endure this, and she trusted Wyatt enough to take care of her.

Still, when he moved out of her line of sight she squirmed, trying to see him.

A moment later he returned. “Close your eyes. Let’s see if you have the self-control to not look, to trust me.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax, to submit, but it was so fucking hard. This wasn’t her, this wasn’t who she was or what she wanted. If it had been anyone but Wyatt asking her to do this she would have told them to go fuck themselves, but it was Wyatt and
she would try for him – even if it killed her.

At the first caress of his fingers against her pussy she moaned and arched back as much as she could, starved for his touch.
God, he knew how to caress her just right, how to pet her clit with his thumb, how to massage her outer labia and draw more blood to that area, arousing her until she was panting.

He leaned over her body so his
denim-clad crotch pushed against her bottom, the clear bulge of his erection driving her crazy. When his bare touched her back she shuddered, craving the skin to skin contact, wishing he was naked. Soft cloth brushed her face and when she inhaled she realized it was Wyatt’s shirt. He moved it so it was next to her face and she drew in greedy inhalations of his scent. God, she never wanted him to move, would die if he didn’t fuck her, would die if he did.

She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Wyatt and she almost came when he began to grind his crotch against her pussy.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

Nodding in agreement, she tried to squirm against him, but he lifted away from her. The air seemed cold after his heat against her skin and she moaned in protest.
He laughed, the bastard, and returned to stroking her pussy with a light touch.

Something hard and cold pressed against her sex and she moaned again, grateful for whatever it was he wanted to put inside of her. The object was wide, and when he began to press it into her sex she shuddered, thrusting back as much as she could. Anticipation sang through her blood, but once the object was around three inches into her sex he stopped pushing and she tried to understand the strange sensations coming from the
thing spreading her throbbing sheath open. It didn’t feel like a dildo, instead she had the oddest sensation of cool air filling her.

Then Wyatt returned to stroking her clit, working her up to the point of orgasm, then backing off.

She let out a long, keening moan of despair as she realized what he was doing to her.

Fucking orgasm denial.

She hated,
loathed
, orgasm denial, at least when it was being used on her.

Wyatt laughed and she growled at him.

“Put my shirt in your mouth and bite down on it. I don’t want to hear one fucking word from you. This is your punishment and you’ll take it until I’m satisfied.”

Oh how she wished he’d just spank her, whip her, beat her and get it over with. This long, drawn out torture was so much worse. Her body ached, and her pussy throbbed like it was bruised from her intense arousal.
The urge to scream at Wyatt, to demand he fuck her, to order him to make her come tore at her self-control and she shoved his shirt into her mouth, biting down and wishing it was his skin she was sinking her teeth into.

For hours…maybe even days he tormented her, taking her almost to her peak over and over again until she began to cry from the pain. He made a little hushing noise and removed his hand. She had no idea how much time had passed but when something cold slid over her swollen sex she screamed and bucked against his touch.

“No, Michelle, no mercy. You’ll take this pain, suffer for what you did to us, suffer for your lack of faith in me. Do you know what really fucking kills me? That you didn’t think I was strong enough to give you everything you need. I promise you, baby, that by the time I’m done with you, you will never make that mistake again.”

Muffled by his shirt, she screamed at him that she was sorry now, that she had no idea he could be such a ruthless bastard, that she fucking hurt with the need to orgasm.

He removed the ice and somehow slid his finger inside of her, and she realized the device he’d put into her pussy was a chastity plug, a small, hollow circle that kept her sex spread open but offered no relief.

“You are so damn wet, so fucking hot. I’d love to sink my cock into you, to fuck you like this, to make you scream as you climaxed. I bet this
soaked little pussy would suck the cum right out of me.”

She frantically nodded, begged him to take her, to put her out of her misery.

His deep, sadistic chuckle had her wanting to pull her hair out with frustration. “You know what I’m doing right now, Michelle? I’m opening my jeans and taking my cock out. Seeing you like this, looking at your pretty cunt so swollen its red, makes me so fucking hard.”

She fought her restraints, trying to see him, but he kept out of her line of sight, denying her the glimpse of his cock that she needed almost as desperately as she
needed him inside of her.

“Such a pretty ass. It killed me to think of the bruises Petrov left there. I watched him cane a woman one night at the club, saw the damage he could do. Made me fucking sick to know you allowed him to hurt you like that.” He gripped her ass with both hands and slid his cock between her butt cheeks, making her arch and moan with despair. “I promised myself that when I had you at my mercy I’d make you suffer, make you hurt, make you pay for the sin of damaging such a beautiful body.”

Tears fell from her eyes, mixing with the sweat now dripping off her body. Never, ever, had she been so aroused and it hurt, maybe even more than the caning. At least when she was taking her punishment from Petrov she had her own version of subspace to sink into, a fuzzing of her nerves that left her feeling almost removed from her body. With the orgasm denial Wyatt was putting her through she didn’t have that disconnect. Instead, she was almost hyperaware of her body, sensitized to the point where all she could do was endure.

The caress of his cock against her ass, the feeling of his balls gently slapping against her throbbing sex, the scent of his musk
from his shirt surrounding her, all these things had her fighting the restraints, trying to move, straining to get off, but he was so fucking strong that he kept her held in place like a butterfly with a pin through its body.

He gave a long, deep groan that was like shards of glass scraping her skin. “I’m going to come all over you, Michelle, I’m going to mark you, spread my seed all over you.”

Whimpering for him to do just that, she clawed at the carpet, trying to buck into him, dying for the feeling of his cum. His harsh breaths tore through her, making her near insane with the need to climax. With a long, low groan he began to orgasm and at the hot splash of his seed hitting her back she sobbed and begged, pleaded with him to give her release, to let her come, to end the torment.

Instead of touching her like she needed so damn bad he moved off of her entirely and she cried out at the loss, his shirt now soaked with her spit, sweat, and tears. Her pussy felt as if it had been beaten with a paddle, so swollen she couldn’t bear the chastity device in her, even the press of her thighs too much. She hurt, oh God she hurt and when Wyatt wiped down her back with what she assumed was a wet washcloth she could only shudder.

She had no idea how long he was gone, only that by the time he began to unbind her, the level of her arousal had receded enough so that when he helped her stand she didn’t orgasm when she pressed her thighs together. At some point, he’d put on a clean shirt, and when he pulled her to his chest and held her, she collapsed against him, crying and clinging to his warm, hard body. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bathroom before setting her down on the floor.

“I’m going to leave for a moment
. Use the bathroom then knock on the wall when you’re done.”

She did as he asked, then slid down the wall when he came back into
the room, her legs too weak to hold her. Staring up at him, she marveled that she’d ever thought him too gentle to hurt her, because this sexual torture was worse than anything she’d ever had to endure. He was a fucking sadist. After turning on the shower he looked down at her with a mixture of love, frustration, and anger that only made her cry harder.

“Get in the shower and wash yourself. You are forbidden to orgasm, do you understand me? If you do
, I promise you that you will regret it and I will be very disappointed in you.”

Miserable, she managed to push herself from the floor, the pressure against her aching sex from just walking into the tub almost too much to bear. He closed the clear vinyl curtain between them and she looked away, unable to face his scrutiny while she quickly washed herself, the salt of her sweat and tears flavoring her lips as she raised her face to the warm spray. She didn’t even dare touch her pussy, instead washing her inner thighs and avoiding the fucking chastity plug that tormented her. It was almost like being filled by a cock, yet left achingly empty at the same time.

As soon as she was done he pulled the curtain open then turned off the water.

“Out you go.”

His hands were gentle as he dried her and she swayed, so overwhelmed by emotion and the extended torture of orgasm denial that she felt…fuzzy…buzzed. Almost like the feeling she got during a punishment beating but not as overwhelming. Instead she was bone deep tired and her emotions were so raw that she hovered on the edge of tears. Wyatt wrapped the towel around her, then cupped her face with his hands and stared into her eyes. She whimpered and swayed against him, the strength in his gaze overwhelming her. To her surprise, he leaned forward and placed a gentle, soft, exquisite kiss on her lips that destroyed her.

This was the first time he’d kissed her since Chicago and she trembled at the soft brush of his lip
s, yearning for more but not daring to try to take it any further.

“You did so good,” he whispered against her lips. “I know this wasn’t easy for you
. I’m so proud of you.”

Just when she thought she’d run out of tears
, he proved her wrong, his words warming her from within until the pain of her body became secondary to the mental bliss of having pleased him. She’d never really understood a submissive’s joy in pleasing their Dom, only that it was something beautiful to behold. Now, with Wyatt’s words of praise still burning against her lips, she could finally connect with why a submissive would crave this feeling. It was like all the approval she’d ever wanted, all the recognition she’d ever craved, and all the love she’d ever needed had been given to her with those words.