The Salvation

Nails scraping into my nape. Then down my back. Then…even lower. The touch is never the same; one moment a tender flow, the next a punishing dig; the next palming my skin, as if assessing it…seeing how the marks will look on it.

The marks. I crave them. Long to beg him for them. Need their sting to make me cry for him, to atone…and then to heal.

The nails scrape my scalp now. He grabs and pulls, commanding with that low, gritty voice I love so: “Up with you.”

“Why?” I rasp. It was heaven, on my knees beside him, feeling his strength towering over me, surrounding me.

“Because it pleases me. And…what is your purpose here?”

“To please you.” I add quickly, horrified I almost forgot, “Master.”

“Indeed.”

I take that into consideration. His response is usually something sweet; a token good girl or sweet pet. What does “Indeed” mean? Where is he taking me, as he pushes me through crowds that laugh and clink glasses, all of them talking about things I can’t comprehend because my focus, from behind my blindfold, now narrows solely on him. On the invisible buzz of power emanating off of him. On his complete power over me; his mastery of every nerve ending in my body, now yearning to sing for him…scream for him.

He pulls me into another room, smaller and quieter. It’s not empty, though. Others are here. There’s two of them and they smell like jasmine and spices. They take me from him. Guide me forward without words.

“Bind her as I instructed.” His command is for them. Their soft, supple hands pull me. One of them releases my corset, letting her fingers roam over the flesh she’s just bared. She teases one nipple, then the other. He gives her a hum of approval.

I want to speak, but bite the words into silence. I’m their putty now, molded as he has told them to do. They bring me to a platform, knee high; it’s got soft padding, though not a bed. None of us is here to sleep. They lift me up together, then tell me to remain on my knees once again.

One of them hooks my left wrist overhead. The other hooks my right. They sigh, calling me beautiful, both taking a nipple into their mouths now…right before they take each one and secure the clamps. They get to start the sting for him as their reward for helping.

Their hands travel to my thighs. Pull them wide so that he can give the sting to every part of me. And oh, what a gift. As he wields the first lash, my mind descends and my body awakens. His slave. His toy. My salvation.

“Lovely,” he says, laying in with the next gift. “Good, good girl.”

“Thank you, Master,” I answer. Savoring the strands, made of leather and love, that entwine us with each other for this treasured stretch of time.

Photos: Deano924, masalacaitea, dougfdoug

The Connection

The moment is here. Watching her as she turns, giving me the trust of each step, then spreads her arms wide, just a little tremble in them, waiting…

Waiting while she breathes through the trepidation. While she seeks the peace of surrender.

I linger a moment before moving. I savor the sight of the bared skin and sleek muscle, here at my command, the power that’s been given, all up to my discretion on how to harness. But I seek more. I seek it as I step up now and slide the cuffs around her wrists, buckling her down to the cross, and feel her test the bonds; sense her giving over to what they command.

You’re mine.

And yet, I demand more. I seek it in the luminous eyes that indulge a last glimpse of me before I slide the blindfold down, plunging her into a darkness that will force her into the light…into the dawn that will say it again.

You’re mine.

As I start to touch her now, learning her, I open myself, too. I want a taste of the soul beneath the skin I caress. Where are the places it’s been, I ask…to bring it to this here and now, this moment of complete openness? What have been its hurts and hopes, its tears and triumphs, its shatterings and searchings—

Ah; its searchings!

Yes, I ask, more fervent with my fingers in each of her curves and crevices: what are you looking for? In the millions of quiet, alone minutes that have led him to you to my altar, where did neurons cross with dreams; where did yearning transform to action; where did need translate into this beautiful courage…

And how do I answer that courage now?

Her answer comes in the first tremor I feel. I’ve been touching her now for several long minutes, but she’s been obedient and motionless through my experimentations with the sensations. Now, suddenly, my newest change-up has revealed my answer: the slightest change in sensations, a stroke into a sting, and she writhes, skin puckering in my clasp. I smile. I try the move again, this time with just one hand. My other slides forward, testing her at her apex, feeling the moisture there, how she’s ready for an answer that’s still at least an hour away.

For now, you’re mine.

My smile grows. I turn for the toy bag, knowing now how to complete the circuit. To fulfill the connection. To satisfy her soul.

Photos: HemligHumla; IotaSorez

Spanking; Thanking

            Naturally, he made her wait for the pain. Naturally, he knew that was the most agonizing—and wonderful—part for her. The anticipation, making itself known in every skin cell across her ass, down her thighs, then between them, where her body wept even more in drenched need…so achingly aware of his fully-clothed thighs, pressed against her naked ones…

            Smack.

            Callie moaned in clenched pain. The bastard didn’t give her a ramp-up of the impact strength; just went right for his inner Conan with a hard blow across both her ass cheeks, following it with two more, only a couple of seconds apart.

            “Fucker!” she finally cried—only to have him yank her head up again, using her hair to do so.

            “Pardon me?” His voice came on a furiously-smooth plane of control. “What did you say?”

            “Captain,” she bit back. “Captain Fucker.”

            Her own shriek became the punctuation to that. He rained three more whacks in retaliation, and unbelievably, they were harder than the first trio. Or at least, felt like it. Callie sobbed and wrenched against the ropes that already bound her, battling against the pain, yet struggling to take it in. Working to accept the fire he dealt, with the tiny light of hope that the after-burn would soon come…

            And oh yes, then it did. Though Nick still laid the paddle against her back, his other hand trailed from her hair and smoothed down, down, across her ass, cooling the hot sting into a glow that bloomed along her skin, then suffused everything south of her waist. This was the part she loved the most…

            “Ahhh, this is the part I love the most.” His guttural tone hit her like a caress in itself. “Your skin is so hot for me, Sweetheart. And your ass looks so amazing. It’s so red and sweet and perfect…”

            She let his words wash through her, infusing her mind like a lullaby. The effect was so strong, she almost felt he started to rock her…until she realized the motion was real, her body swaying as Nick wrapped both her ankles, then attached the lines to another rig point. And up she went, flying both physically and mentally, the ropes pressing everywhere now, encompassing her body, sealing her mind beneath her captain’s complete domination. This time, she knew resistance was useless. This time, she was thankful for that fact. This time, she let the submission wash into her, through her.

            Vaguely, she heard a sigh escape her lips. More acutely, she heard Nick’s reaction to it: a rough, aroused hiss. On the heels of that, his fingers dug into her hips, pulling her back against his body so there was no mistake what this all did to him, too. Even through his heavy pants, she felt the pulsing heat of his cock, and she writhed in need, uncaring how needy or desperate she looked any more.

            “Soon.”

            He gave her just the one word, but the promise of it made her shiver again. Because beneath its sensual velvet, he jabbed in a steel reinforcement.

            Which meant he wasn’t done with delving her pain yet.

            Sadistic, beautiful bastard.

            Callie tamped down a whine of protest, knowing that would only earn her ass a longer make-out session with the paddle. On the other hand, knowing Nick, she wasn’t sure it would make too much a difference. She braced herself best as she could without the floor to ground her, meaning the task was more mental than physical now, though the mind-pirate switched up the mind-fuck on her once again. This time, his touch roamed along her body as a total contrast to the ropes’ rough kiss: soothing, gentle, soft feathers of movement that made her wriggle in ecstasy and quiver in need. Neither of them said a word: a shock in itself; but words would have trivialized this incredible exchange between them. His conquer, her surrender. His gift of control; her gift of compliance.

            Nick’s touch got more insistent as he worked his way back down her body. By the time he got back to her ass, his fingers started to knead, to probe. It came as no surprise that he smacked her a few times there again, bare-handed this time, humming in approval as her skin heated for him once more. Finally, Callie broke their silence with a desperate, “Oh, God!” Her ass was on fire and her pussy screamed with need…

            Like the Marquis de Smart-Ass that he was, Nick chuckled. “Hmm. As much as I’d like to own that right now, it’s not my name. You want to try again?”

            Callie wanted to fling back something equally arrogant. But what she needed far outweighed what she wanted right now. “Captain,” she said without hesitation. “Please. Just…please, Captain…”

            “Please what?” The infuriating, guttural laugh again. “What do you want, captive?”

            “You. Please…you. I want you.”

            His hands, those magical hands, pinched the backs of her thighs. “But this isn’t about you, darling. Isn’t that right?”

            Callie nodded frantically. “Right. You’re right. You’re right.”

            “Then what’s it about?”

            “Pleasing you. My Captain, it’s about pleasing you.”

            “Good girl.” A hand dipped between her buttocks now, going for the place Callie needed it the most. “And you do please me. Very much. Would you like my fingers in your pussy now, captive?”

            She sobbed, rocking against the ropes. “Yes. Oh yes, Captain, please Sir!”

            “Like this?”

            “Yes…” She barely got the words out. The contact felt so amazing. A sunburst after Winter. Heat and light; blinding and intense…

            “Now I’m going to put my cock there, too. And you’re going to let me fuck you as hard as I want, right?”

            “Yes.” She fumbled to form her lips around the words, lost in how brutally he spread her now, loving the feel of his fingers as they probed her, opened her, lubed her. “Yes, Captain.”

            A crinkle of a condom wrap, an arousing whack of rubber and then…he was there. Filling her…bigger than she’d expected. Fucking her…harder than she’d thought possible. He used the suspension to his full advantage, letting the ropes anchor her as he used all his strength to thrust into her. His hand rolled around and cupped her pussy, his fingers grinding her clit, making her take him deeper as her need climbed by exponential steps now, her body a wildfire of lust, his instrument of passion. Finally, she couldn’t contain the pressure any more. She burst into a dimension of pure sensation, coming apart from the inside out, rejoicing in Nick’s moan as his climax followed a couple of seconds later.

They went on forever like that, rocking together; or maybe she just wished they would, for soon, the world returned in little, cold increments. Callie’s whole body hovered on a massive shiver—until Nick crouched in front of her again. His eyes were warm and adoring. He smiled again, this time not in sarcasm or teasing, but in pure gratitude.

“I’m gonna get you down now,” he said softly. “And then hold you, while you drink your Swiss Miss with extra marshmallows.”

At that, she actually let a couple of tears loose. Holy shit, he knew her so well. Now, maybe too well. Which really should have terrified her…but not yet. Not now. She’d worry about the terror as she sucked on Swiss Miss marshmallows.

Right now, she just smiled and kissed the man who’d just given her the most incredible experience of her life. And whispered to him, “Thank you, my Captain. Thank you.”

Callie: Breathing Through the Changes

“I know what I’m doing, Callie.”

            He said it just before securing the caribiners that would support the ropes around her legs. Or at least that’s what she assumed, not able to see the exact source of the clicks somewhere in the air beyond her now-suspended ass. But what brought more tension was his voice: it had gone to a surprising, calming caress...and for a moment, Callie didn’t know how to react to that.

“I—I know that,” she finally snapped, feeling even more nervous, exposed…and aroused. Was this actually happening? Was he really taking the fantasies she’d confessed to him as friends, and making them into more…changing their relationship for good? And changing it into what? The thought, in all its uncertainty, coursed through every cell in her body.

            “Then why are you stiff as steel?” This time, the tenderness of his voice was joined by the slow slide of his hand along her backside. “Relax and let me captain this voyage. And that’s an order.”

            His touch put physical meaning to that command. He stroked her skin with gliding confidence, knowing the exact places to linger, the crevices to tease, the surfaces to press, causing involuntary shivers to claim her. Callie felt a tiny part of her brain give in to the wonder of it…an inexplicable thrill of letting him be “in charge” for once. She fought, one last time, to cling to her defenses, but oh God, his hands felt so wonderful, now moving down to claim her thighs, her knees, her calves, even her feet.

            “Mmmm,” he praised. “Better.”

            The assurance came right as he began binding her left leg. Callie let her head drop, giving him another inch of surrender as the rope crisscrossed her skin, making her feel oddly secure even though she knew the bindings would be used to elevate her completely off the ground…and totally at his mercy. He gave her right leg the same treatment, double-checking all his knots as he went, dragging out the thick tension coiling in the air between them. “Breathe,” he prompted her several times during the process, “Breathe, Cal, and trust me.”

            “Easier asked than done,” she dared to retort once, adding pointedly, “Captain.”

            That got her a fast smack on her ass. “I don’t recall asking it.”

            Though she’d bitten back another riposte, she now found herself tempted to let it fly as he issued more zen-speak commands, in time to the loops he pulled into the lines around her legs...the lines that would pull her completely aloft.

“Focus on your center,” he ordered. “And let the breath come from that. I need your total trust for this. If you want this, you have to give all of yourself to me. No sass-backs. No rebellion. I want to make this fantasy happen for you, but I need your submission in return.”

“Why?”

            He expelled a breath. “I’m about to suspend you several feet over a hard wood deck. If you resist the bondage, you throw everything off balance, and—“

            “No,” she interrupted. “Why do you want to do this for me? And with me?”

            She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. But now she couldn’t take it back and worse, she couldn’t deny that his answer was important. More important than she’d ever imagined. Which made her position right now, so helpless and vulnerable, that much more of a fucking hell—

            Especially when Nick slowly paced around, and knelt in front of her again.

            Callie kept her head dropped, even averting the angle away from him, until Nick pressed a hand to her cheek, and forced her to look at him. Oh…God. What greeted her, in every dark, beautiful line of his face, caused her to directly disobey him, as she forgot how to breathe altogether. Reverance. Adoration. Passion. Desire. And complete focus…on her. All of his incredible sensuality, and power and lust, channeled totally on her. And then into her, as he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips again. He fused their mouths gently at first, but fast increased his assault, pushing his tongue deeper into her mouth, using his other hand to work her jaw wider for him, wider.

            “Fuck, Cal,” he finally growled as he pulled away, leaving them both gasping for air, “You haven’t been able to see why?”

            She blinked, confused. “See…what?”

“You’ve been driving me crazy for months, you gorgeous, amazing bitch. Do you think it’s been easy for me to hear about all your fantasies, and not do anything about them?”

She would’ve laughed if she wasn’t so close to losing it on the other end of the emotional spectrum. “Are you kidding?”

He growled again. “You really think I’m kidding?”

“No.” She got it out fast, because his voice had gone back to it’s I’m-not-fucking-around realm. The granite tone that told her she probably should amend her response. “I mean, no, Captain.”

Nick’s answer was wordless. He rose, panther-like, to his feet. Paced to the space behind her again, and now stood with his legs braced between hers. Callie felt the hard buckles of his boots, pressing against the insides of her ankles. Then pressing again.

“Spread wider for me, sweet captive. Before you go airborne, you have to learn who’s in charge.”

For the first time, Callie obeyed without hesitation. For a moment, she pondered the reason for that. She already, intrinsically, trusted Nick—but opening herself to him like this, baring her most intimate self to him, took something beyond trust. Had it come gradually, over the course of the last half hour, with his touch and his words? Or suddenly, in the wrenching brutality of his kiss?

She only knew she was joyful it had come. And now, she welcomed him further, widening her stance, trembling with anticipation to feel his body next to her, inside her…

Until she felt another hardness altogether.

The cold, flat plane of a spanking paddle.

Again, the evening took on a different direction than she’d anticipated. And crazily, Callie felt herself getting wetter because of it.

Callie: Pinned at the Wheel

            “So you like the pirate’s life, eh?”

            Nick taunted her with that as they stopped at the edge of the polished wood deck. A smile deliberately hung in his tone, but it made her fume. He was taking entirely too much glee in commanding her—forgetting she knew certain things about him, too. Regrettably, that included things like how he preferred his subs with a little spirit to them…probably explaining why he’d come out to her with his little confession in the hallway. For God’s sake, she was “spirit” with two feet.

            She just tried to ignore that she also knew the ways he liked taming such spirit. More specific, she tried to ignore how his explanations had always soaked her between the legs, and made sleep more elusive on certain nights…the nights she fantasized about him taming her in such ways.

            But that’s all they were meant to be. Fantasies. Sometimes, fantasies between two friends were best left alone…right?

            “Hey.”

            His gritted order snapped her head up.

            “Get out of your brain and back to me, damn it,” he snapped. “I asked you a question.” He gave a meaningful jerk on the rope still cinched around her waist. “Are you going to answer?”

            The last of that rolled down and around her with slow, sensuous intent, crooking a verbal finger at her. She read his purpose clearly. A dutiful “Yes, sir” wasn’t what he was after—which is why she gave him just that. With such a saccharine-sweet, breathy pitch, she was certain the air just got diabetes.

            To her slight shock, Nick chuckled at that. Just before digging a hand into her hair, jerking her head back, and slamming his lips down on hers with punishing punctuation.

            “You might as well have given me a nice ‘fuck you’, my wench,” he said. “’Cause that insubordination just earned you double punishment.”

            Callie flashed him a pert smile, then bit his lower lip. “Fuck you very much, sir.”

            He laughed again. “Triple punishment now. And more if you don’t start calling me by he right name from now on.”

            She frowned. “Excuse me?”

            He motioned around them with a graceful whirl of long fingers. “You’re on my ship now, babe. So what does that make me?”

            She followed the trajectory of his action, then glanced back to him with open incredulity. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me…what?” he prompted.

            “I am not going to call you ‘captain’.”

            She barely got the last of that out before he hauled her to her feet, whipped the ends of the rope over her shoulders and around her wrists. Securing her wrists together in a fast bow tie knot, he jerked her over to the captain’s wheel, and lashed her wrists to the top of it.

            “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” His tone returned to the realm of complete control as he began to lace the ropes around both forearms, then once again around her waist. Damn, he was fast. Her upper body wasn’t going anywhere. “But first,” he murmured then, “The start of your punishment.”

            Callie dipped her head and smiled. He’d called her "messy" just a few minutes ago, but who’d just gone and initiated punishment without securing the captive’s feet? Surreptitiously, she began to test the bonds he had her in. Depending on how far she could wriggle, she’d be able to land some good back kicks to his shins, maybe even more if he shifted to a better angle…

            All that scheming vanished as soon as he reappeared in front of her.

            Bearing a velvet-lined box with shiny treasures inside.

            Well…treasures for him.

            With one of his slow satyr’s grins, Nick scooped up the first of the gold clothespins, and directed its open mouth at her right breast.

            Callie didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes closed, tensing for the pain, crying out with harsh abandon when the clamp bit into her skin. Just as fast, she opened her eyes, and looked down at where her aureola now stretched hard into the clamp’s hold.

            She watched without blinking as Nick applied the next clamp. And hissed aloud with him.

            The sight aroused her in deep, incredible ways.

            She dared a look up at Nick, wondering if he felt the same thing. The transformation of his face gave her all the answer she needed. This surrender she gave him…it moved him, too; made his features come alive in a way she’d never seen in him before. The planes of his cheeks were tight; his jaw was rigid and set, his lips were slightly parted. But his eyes were most mesmerizing to her, taking in her nakedness with rapt, shimmering greed.

            That look got more hypnotizing with every new clip he gave her. Five went on her right breast, then five on her left. She almost looked like a kinkster’s Christmas ornament when he got done, bursting with golden spikes that invaded her skin with sharp pain, and sent waves of the serotonin reaction through her brain…resulting in a flood of hot pleasure through her body.

            “My little captive,” he finally said. “You please me.”

            She answered with a soft smile. Then slowly, deliberately whispered, “I’m still not calling you ‘captain’.”

            He smiled in return.

            Just before yanking all the clips off her. Brisk and fast. Hard and merciless.

            As she screamed and writhed from the pain, Nick countered with more chortles. He watched her in gloating silence, calmly putting all the clips back into the case as she breathed through the aftermath and got readjusted to the bondage.

            “Fucker!” she finally gasped.

            He gave a sharp tsk; shook his head. “That didn’t sound very much like ‘captain’.” Then started to pace next to her again, this time unfurling another length of rope. A very long, very black length of rope. “On the other hand, we’ve barely begun the punishment.”

            A second later, Callie watched him slide the rope between her legs. The rough caress of it caught her distended clit right away, and teased her with ruthless pressure. She bit her lip and struggled to steady her breath, suspecting this really was just the beginning. Suspecting exactly what came next.

            Nick wrapped the rope around her hips, and secured it into a grappling hook overhead. He was taking her into full suspension…one of her deepest, darkest fantasies.

           

Callie: Dragged to the Deck

            She was officially in uncharted waters now.

            She knew the Domme side of her job. Knew it very well—and carried it out very well. But whatever she knew, Nick knew better. And did better. And damn him, with a steel-grade self-control that made him not only one of the rare pro male doms in the city, but one of the most-requested in the region.

            Probably had a teensy bit to do with how good he looked doing it, too.

            She couldn’t help adding that last fact because she grew achingly aware of it once more, gazing at him from his heavy, buckle-laden dungeon master boots, up to the waves on his head that always looked as if he’d just stepped in from a Yorkshire moor. In between, she took in the hard lines and well-trained muscles he had from years of rigging rope bondage, pushing around torture devices and cracking whips…just like the one he held at his side now. 

            Callie gasped as she took in the wicked length of the thing—which he turned deftly in his grip, and used the handle at the top of her head. “Where the hell should your gaze be right now?” he ordered, forcing her to look at the floor. “You’re sloppy tonight, girl. I expected better behavior than this.”

            She shivered, schooling her body into the proper posture as he slid the hard, cold leather knob down the back of her neck, then her spine. Her reaction was real. She was terrified. Though she’d dropped into this submissive’s pose a thousand times before, her body had never felt so awakened in the doing. Her every nerve ending opened, alive and aware of Nick. This friend—this man—who’d listened to her deepest fantasies; who knew exactly what she wanted; all the limits she dreamed to have pushed.

            All that information…now resting in the proverbial palm of his hand.

            So hell yes, she was scared. And beyond aroused.

            “Give me a minute, OK?” she finally got out. “I—shit!“

            Her own outcry became her interruption, as Nick re-secured his grip on the whip, and circled the leather around, dragging it across her breasts. The action reinforced their roles now: leader and follower; master and slave.

            “Another outburst like that, and you’ll get a lot more than a caress on those beautiful tits,” he leveled. “The rules are simple, darling. If I ask a question, you speak. Otherwise, your mouth will be occupied with more…useful endeavors. Got it?”

            Cal bit back the retort she normally would have given him at that. This new dynamic between them was harder than she anticipated. But a thousand times more exhilarating. Every inch of her skin burned as she wondered where he’d take this.

            As she hoped she’d get to have him inside her.

            “That was a direct question,” he intoned. “So, are we clear?”

            She gave her answer from locked teeth. “Yes, damn it.”

            “Yes…what?”

            “Yes, damn it, Sir.”

            A harder flick from the whip came as response to that. Callie expected it, but the preparation didn’t ease the shocking sting across the flesh of her breasts…which fast turned into an expectant heat down her body.

            “The hard way or the easy way, Cal,” he told her. “You know I’m up for both.”

            She believed every word. And wisely swallowed her words as she watched the whip’s length swirl along the floor, then drag around behind her as Nick paced the same direction. Callie didn’t dare look back, too, though she heard him open the room’s massive ropes closet. Another shudder claimed her. Oh, God. Ropes. Her own favorite torment method…though she’d never been treated to the receiving end of a good tie-up, which required the patience, strength, mastery and knotting skills of—well, someone like Nick.

            “Perfect,” he finally murmured, and she literally felt his gaze burn again at her back. That preceded his touch on it, making a sinuous slide from her nape down to the cleft atop her ass. But he didn’t stop there. His hand dipped lower, all the way around to the grotto of her pussy, where he scraped her lightly with his fingertips before cupping her and lifting her backside up.

            “On your knees now, girl. You’re going to do a little traveling.” Callie’s breath clutched at that, though it got stopped short as he lassoed her waist with a length of hemp line dyed a deep Caribbean blue. He knotted the stuff at the small of her back, then tugged. “Let’s go. Follow on your knees. The Deck awaits.”

            Cal dared a tiny glimpse up at the area across the room to which he referred. The Deck was literally that: a gorgeous, polished wood reproduction of an 18^th century brigantine, minus the pirate flags and whistling first mate. But the essentials were there: the mast, crossbeams and captain’s wheel that made perfect rig points for suspending a hostage in an assortment of erotic captivity. And the hard wood flooring for ensuring they didn’t try to escape.

            She felt herself getting wet again, just looking at the set. And wondering what torture Nick had in store for her there.

            And thinking she might just be falling in love with him because of it.

Payback, the Stinging-Good Conclusion

Now where were we with Serena and Trey? Ahhh yes; it involved the stairway, a bit of blindfold, a lot of rope…and now, a dose of mind play…

I knew he wasn’t messing around with the words. I settled my knees against the stairs’ carpet, my whole body quaking with anticipation, knowing I’d be here for a while. Knowing this is what I’d been waiting for.

Sure enough, he measured out the midpoint of the rope against my inner thigh, tugging there to stretch out that side of my pussy as he made loops and secured the first cinch on the outside. He didn’t say a word; the only sounds filling the air were the rain on the windows, the sough of the rope in his hands, and my increasingly fast sighs of expectation.

Down my leg he went, looping the rope in an intricate web pattern until he ended at my ankle, and tied off so he could secure the anchoring to the stairwell. The binding encased my whole leg, the pressure a constant, rough caress, enforcing exactly who controlled me tonight...who owned my body. My breaths cascaded faster on one another. He confirmed my mindset by dipping a couple of fingers inside me as he crossed to begin tying up my other leg.

“Dripping wet already, darling?” A gruff tsk accented that. “Naughty girl; starting without me. You’ll have to render recompense for that.”

I shivered, having a pretty good idea of what “recompense” was going to mean.

When he tied off the other leg, he moved back behind me, then stilled. For a long moment, he didn’t make a sound. He just let me be, squirming against my bondage, spread and open and vulnerable for him. A little wave of panic hit me. I really couldn’t get loose if I tried. But then he let out a low rumble of approval, and the fear instantly pooled into my pussy, drenching me in desire.

“Now you’re exactly where I want you to be,” he murmured. “Every inch of your body, ready for me to…collect on.”

As he said that, he began to rub his hands up and down both my ass cheeks. I knew where this was going; arched my back a little in anticipation…waited for the first smack. Wanting it…

Instead, the bastard shifted his touch down into my pussy again. And dug in hard, jamming at least three fingers inside me at once. I cried out in shock and arousal, struggling to relax my walls to accommodate him.

“Even wetter than before,” he stated. “You are determined to make this a long punishment tonight, aren’t you?” He used his other hand to lightly swat my shaved mound. “Aren’t you?” he pressed.

“Yes,” I gasped.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He withdrew from me. Palmed my ass with both hands again. “And who’s your master tonight?”

“You are, Sir.”

“And who will you pay your price to?”

“You, Sir.”

“Good girl. Now, raise your ass to me for the delivery of your payment.”

OK, that was the joke of all time. Shifting my legs, much less my ass, wasn’t possible beyond a quarter inch either way. But I did the best I could, trembling with excitement and need, shoving my cheeks out toward him, knowing now that—

The first thwack came. He gave it with the hard wood paddle, going pretty hard, yet I loved it. I moaned and keened as the sharp hits came, alternating every five or six times with his palm instead of the flogger, but to be honest, I wasn’t keeping track. The tingling heat behind each blow now turned into an aching fire, and my brain dipped into a sweet, yielding place, wanting more, loving each new hit. Yearning to be on fire for him. And he loved it, too. He calculated each spank, raining them everywhere along my ass and thighs, grunting with happy approval if one elicited a louder cry from me than the others.

He paused for one moment to slick some lotion across my skin, and hummed in approval. “Just slicking you up, sub, for the compounded interest.”

I smiled behind the mask, but kept my tone proper. “Yes, my beautiful Sir.”

Then the spanking continued. As the storm pounded outside, he made me throb inside, accepting his sweet discipline with a body that now strained with wanting for him.

My generous Dom knew that. And now, growled with the powerful knowledge of it as he stopped the spanking and leaned over me.

“You need to pay me interest now, bratty bitch,” he finally said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes—“

It was all I got out before he jammed his cock against my pussy, and thrust his way in. It was brutal. It was wonderful.

It was home.

And as he indeed took his payment from me and then some, I hoped to God I’d never get done paying him back.