The Submissive's Secret (What's Her Secret?) (4 page)

“I hope you like it, pet.”

“I’m sure I will, Sir,” I said. “If it’s something you designed, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

He went farther inside and propped the door open with his backside, waiting for me to join him. I did, standing next to him and getting my first glimpse of his dungeon.

It wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

The windows I’d seen on the roof as we’d drawn up in the car were here and, as I’d suspected, bigger than a person. The view went on for miles—miles of countryside shrouded in the dreary cloak of the storm, individual elements blurred, what with the glass being smeared with rain. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky followed by a bout of thunder, and to stop myself thinking about my usual fear of storms, I concentrated on the room itself.

He’d thought of everything. A St Andrews in one corner, rows upon rows of toys hanging from hooks on the walls, a large bed with crisp white sheets and a fluffy quilt, a chaise upholstered in a light blue Victorian print, a whipping post, chains hanging from the ceiling, steel rings attached to the walls…oh, everything we had used before and some things we hadn’t.

I gave the toys a closer inspection, and yes, there it was, a tawse with its two brown leather tongues, hanging rigid, obviously never used. It shined from being so new, and I experienced another stomach roll as thoughts of him striking me with it flitted through my mind.

“Do you like what you see, sub?”

I dragged my gaze from the tawse and looked at him. Dear God, he appeared on edge, worried about my reaction.

“I love it—absolutely love it,” I whispered. “It’s perfect for us.”

Concern melted from his face, replaced with relief.

“You even remembered the bed, the cover, I mean.” I stared at it.

“We had always said the one in our room at the club was so impersonal.” He huffed out a laugh. “Rubber sheets. Understandable, given the amount of use the rooms get, but hardly good for nurturing you after you’d been to subspace or comfortable enough for when I apply salve. No, this bed…I wanted it to be perfect. Somewhere we could also sleep after play. To just be together.”

His thoughtfulness got to me, and I cleared my throat of the sudden lump that had formed.

Before I could dwell on it further, he said, “So you’ve been keeping a secret from me. Would you care to tell me what it is?”

I snapped my head from the bed to the tawse. He followed my gaze and half closed his eyes as though it would help him to know which of the toys I wanted. A small smile played about his lips, and I had the urge to kiss it away, to press myself to him and have him enfold me in his arms.

I fought it and won.

“There are only two things up there that we haven’t tried,” he said, turning to face me. “The studded paddle and the tawse. Which one is it that intrigues you?”

“The tawse, Sir.”

“And how would you like me to use it?”

“Hard, Sir. As hard as you can get.”

He hesitated for a second or two. “That may not be wise for your first time. You know how I like to protect you. Ease you into new things. The tawse isn’t like a flogger. And this one is so new…it will be painful.”

“It’s what I want, Sir.”

He let out a steady stream of air. “Good God, girl, it would be useless for me to try to deny you anything. I can’t. But if I feel it’s too much, that you’re holding off telling me you can’t take any more, I’ll stop, you know that.”

“I want to see how far I can go,” I said. “How much pain I can take. I need to push myself.”

“You realize I won’t use it without warming you up first, so if you were thinking of suggesting otherwise…”

I had been. I should have known my care would be his first priority. Hadn’t it always?

“Of course, Sir. I understand.”

“There is something I want you to see,” he said. “Behind the door. Something else you’ve never used—not with me at least.”

He closed the door and leaned against it, turning his head to one side to look at what he’d mentioned. A flogging horse—something I’d only ever seen online or in magazines—stood proudly, the legs fashioned with sturdy wood and intricately carved. The body was triangular—wood covered in black leather—the base the flat side, the top the point. At the end was a brown saddle, much like those used with horses, except this one had a large black cock jutting upwards from the center.

I held my breath and contemplated which part I’d prefer to sit on. The main body, with its pointy tip, would slot nicely between my legs, pressing into my clit and anus. It would be uncomfortable at first, I realized that, but was yet another avenue for me to go down, to see if that kind of pain turned into pleasure and was something I’d want to experience again. The saddle and cock, however…now that called to me loud and clear.

“Do you think you could handle this, pet?”

I moved toward the horse until I stood beside it then reached out to run my fingertips along the point. It was too hard, too much for me at the moment. I didn’t feel seasoned enough. I walked along to the saddle and curled my fingers around the cock. It was as hard as Jaska’s got, the material it was made from—rubber?—as soft as his skin. The length, now that was longer than I’d been used to, but it appealed more than the harsh press of the point.

“I could take this, Sir,” I said, gliding my hand up and down the cock.

“Look up,” he said.

I did and saw two ropes with loops on the end, hanging above the saddle from the ceiling.

“You would put your wrists through the loops,” he said, “then grip the ropes as I hit you with the tawse. I can see you doing that, and the sight of it…would be something I’d love to see.”

“It’s something I’d love to do.” I let the cock go, resting my hand on the cool saddle, and looked down, smiling at the sight of steel stirrups. “Shall I climb on, Sir?” I asked, already lifting one foot then swinging myself up and over.

I hovered over the tip of the cock, steadying myself with both hands on the saddle in front of it while I slipped my other foot in the second stirrup.

“I take it you weren’t asking for my permission,” he said.

“No.” I smiled at him. “And if you wouldn’t mind, Sir, I’d really like to begin now.”

Chapter Four

“Be careful, pet. Take it slowly.”

With my feet in the stirrups, I lowered a little so the head of the cock sat just inside me. Already I knew I’d misjudged its size—it stretched me, the burn not as sharp as it might be had I plunged straight down but enough that I had to bite my bottom lip.

“That’s it,” Jaska said. “Put your hands through the loops and grip the rope like I said.”

I reached up with one hand, my thigh and calf muscles protesting over my unnatural position. One loop surrounded my wrist now, and I turned my hand so it pointed to the ceiling then held the rope. I felt safer, more balanced, and did the same with my other hand. The ropes hung from a pulley and I looked at Jaska, asking him a silent question.

“I wasn’t sure how long they needed to be or whether you’d enjoy being stretched in this way,” he said. “You’ve been stretched before but you were in a different position.”

The ropes appealed. At the moment my arms were bent at the elbows and I didn’t think they’d be pulled much straighter once I’d fully taken the length of the black cock.

“I think you’ll need to shorten them, Sir.”

“As you wish.”

He moved to a handle on the wall beside the door and turned it. Rope began coiling around a circular steel plate. My arms rose and at the point my muscles in my armpits tautened, I gasped.

“That’s enough for now, Sir.”

I sank down onto the cock, gritting my teeth as the burn increased, inhaling through my nostrils and closing my eyes. The cold saddle met with my backside, and I got myself properly seated, the end of the cock pushing into my cervix.

“Ah, ah, ah…” I blew out a harsh breath.

“Do you need to take time out, sub?”

I panted through the discomfort. “No, Sir. Just a moment will do.”

“Good girl. How do your arms feel?”

“Bearable, thank you.” I opened my eyes to smile at him.

“Let me know if you’d like them stretched some more.”

I couldn’t handle more but nodded anyway. I had several sensations going on at once. My arms were sore but not as bad as they could be—I’d been on the rack in the club dungeon and had coped quite well. My cunt was spasming, and the pressure of the rubber pushing on the inner wall behind my clit seemed to make it throb harder, a pulse that melded with the swooshing rush of blood pumping through my veins. The rim of my cunt smoldered as it struggled to accommodate the width that so rudely filled me, the strip of skin between my front and rear entrances tight from the pressure. My nipples perked up as though the pain had drawn them into tighter peaks.

Jaska looked at them. “Would you enjoy some clamps?”

I thought only for a second before nodding. If I coped with different parts of my body receiving attention all at the same time, the first bite of a brand-new tawse wouldn’t be so shocking.

He moved away to the wall behind me, where the toys dangled from their hooks. I twisted my head to try to see what he was doing but only caught a glimpse of the side of his face, a shoulder and one arm.

“These clamps,” he said, “are different to the ones at the club. These have teeth.”

I exhaled then breathed in deeply, holding the air in my lungs to get me through the current feelings tugging at my body. He came to stand beside the horse and held the clamps up. I stared at them as I released my breath. Similar in shape to bulldog clips, they were silver all over, stubbier, and a little wider than my nipple. They appeared more like jewelry than a sex toy. Each one had four flat-ended teeth on the upper and lower jaws. A chain with a padlock in the center joined them together.

“The padlock, Sir?”

“Merely used as a weight.”

I’d never had weighted clamps attached before, so that as well as the teeth would test my endurance. He draped the device around his neck then reached out to roughly tweak my nipples, pinching them between fingers and thumbs and pulling so my breasts lifted. He pinched harder and I let out a soft groan that was swallowed by another burst of thunder. He kept on, pinching, pinching, pinching, until I winced and a throttled noise rumbled in my throat.

“That should be preparation enough,” he said, letting them go and taking the chain from around his neck. He squeezed one clamp open and positioned it over my nipple. “This is going to sting a bit, pet. Remember to breathe through it.” He paused, then added, “Or do you want both attached at the same time?”

“Please, Sir.”

Despite his advice, I held my breath while he squeezed the other clamp open. Their jaws and teeth seemed impossibly evil for a second until I reminded myself how much I enjoyed nipple play—the more intense the better.

I closed my eyes, breath still held. Felt the heat of Jaska’s other hand where he’d put it closer to my breast. Waited for the bite. Waited some more. A tic flickered beside my left eye. A buzz set up inside my ears. My cunt pulsed.

Jaska put the clamps on.

My groan of pleasure drowned out the thrumming of the rain on the windows. I arched my back and thrust out my chest, the clamps sending streaks of undulating pleasure rippling through my breasts. My shift in position meant the cock jabbed harder at my cervix and further stretched my opening. The padlock’s weight dragged my breasts down and elongated my nipples. Such beautiful pain. A heavy ache set up home in my areolae. The ache, the tug, the spears all coalesced into one mass of sexual awareness. I couldn’t think of anything but that.

“Breathe through it, pet.”

Jaska placed his hands on my shoulders, slotting his thumbs into the hollows of my collarbone. He put his fingertips at the very top of my back. I concentrated on his touch. He pressed harder, nails digging into my skin. I thrashed and the padlock swung, slapping on then off my belly, dragging my nipples down farther. I moaned, a long, drawn-out sound that I’d never heard myself make before.

“Breathe!” Jaska snapped, giving me a little shake.

I sucked in a huge breath then let it back out through pursed and shaking lips. My tits, cunt, shoulders and arms were on fire—too much intensity yet not enough. The cock seemed harder—or my channel was clamping around it more than it had been. Either way I felt wonderfully full and strung out from the bombardment of pleasure.

It was heaven.

“Breathe again, Lori. Concentrate on only that. Taking air in, letting it out. That’s it, you know what to do.” He eased off on his fingertips then moved his hands to cup my face so he could brush my cheeks with his thumbs. “Tears, pet. Hot tears.”

I hadn’t been aware of them.

My palms were hot from the rope chafing, my wrists sore too. I relaxed the fingers of one hand while breathing in and out, flexing them to loosen the kinks. After gripping the rope again, I repeated the same with my other hand then let myself hang completely still.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Jaska asked. “Don’t fight your body. Go with it like I taught you. Don’t you feel so much more in control now?”

“Yes, Sir,” I managed.

“What did I tell you before? Go with it not against it. Accept the pain and then it settles on you and in you. The padlock. Is it too much?”

“Not now I’m still, Sir.”

“Good girl. Keep breathing. Keep still.”

He took his hands from my face and went behind me. Heat from his palms as he placed them on my backside had yet another calming effect. The pain in my nipples and cunt was lessening now I’d gotten my mind to focus on accepting it was there and not going away any time soon—unless I said my safe word. But from experience, I knew the worst was yet to come when those clamps came off.

Oh, God, how easily I’d forgotten about that…

Jaska massaged my arse, heating the skin with his steady strokes. “You know why I am doing this, sub. If you want me to stop, to not proceed with the tawse, you must say now.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I want the tawse.”

He sighed, his exhaled air cooling my back. “There isn’t much of your arse for me to strike. I’ll hit the bottom of your back more often than not.”