Everything around me faded. I could move my body suddenly, and I sat up, finding a light gray light pervading the room.
No one there.
My pussy still ached as though my dream had been real.
And the door was sliding open.
He was there—as big and muscular as I remembered, a scowl on his face. But man, what a face.
My heart pounded, and I clutched at the duvet as though I were naked, before realizing that my clothes were still on, and I was actually hot, sweating beneath my shirt.
And wet, embarrassingly enough, in other places as well.
The dream had seemed so real I could actually feel his lips on the back of my knee, which made me blush as he stepped into the room.
“You didn’t eat,” he growled.
Maybe I was a little out of sorts because I just woke up. Maybe the lingering dream messed with me, and maybe I was having an episode from low blood sugar. Maybe all those things combined together, because my resolve from the night before had gone straight out the window.
“No,” I said defiantly. “And I’m not going to, either, until you tell me just who you are and what the hell you are doing with me.”
It was a pretty stupid thing to say, and I regretted it instantly. I mean sure, I might be able to resist eating, but what was I going to do if he was like, ‘okay’ and walked off and let me starve?
He stepped into the room, and the door closed. He said nothing, simply put the lids on the plates of food with an unnerving—okay, terrifying—calm.
My stomach turned icy again, and my bottom felt hot as I remembered where this kind of sass had gotten me before.
“Do you imagine, Natalia, that you are in any position to give me an ultimatum?” he asked, looking at the polished plate cover for a second before shifting his gaze to me.
Of course not, of course I wasn’t.
But I’d already thrown down the gauntlet. What was I supposed to do? Say I was sorry? Cave in?
I reminded myself that my plan had in fact been to do just that.
But instead of saying something like that, I jutted my chin out, opened my mouth, and said:
“Maybe not. But you can’t make me eat.”
His jaw flexed, and a moment of frightening silence passed.
I was getting under this guy’s skin, and I knew I had better back off.
“I can make anyone I wish,” he growled, “do anything I want, Natalia.”
Something twisted inside my chest.
I stared at him.
“I’m not eating,” I said quietly.
He moved with such calm toward me that I didn’t have the sense to so much as flinch. Someone walking toward you like that seems more like a person about to tell you bad news, or take your drink order, or something like that.
So when he lunged like a panther, out of nowhere, and picked me up suddenly and with such ease that I went flying through the air and was over his shoulder in less than a second, it came as a total surprise. We were out the door and moving through a dimly lit hallway in no time at all, and a fair bit out of the room before I realized that he was carrying me somewhere.
I squirmed and tried to push myself up, pushing against his back with my fists balled up, but his thick arm just coiled around my legs tighter, and he drew his free hand up to my lower back, and I was as immobilized as in my dream. Sure, I could strain against him and toss my head around a little, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I might as well have been trapped from the waist down in a block of concrete.
I continued to flail for a few moments, screaming obscenities at him, each one stupider than the next, until I realized that I was wasting energy hysterically and I wouldn’t get anywhere. I was sweaty, my arms and back were growing tired, and I wasn’t getting anywhere.
The hallway went on and on, but I couldn’t see much. How big was this place?
He made a sharp turn, I heard another beep, a puff of air, and the sound of a door unlocking, and we entered a dark space, which was frightening enough to make my heart stop for a second.
A light turned on, dim at first, warming up as me moved into the space.
I was in motion again before I got a chance to see anything, turning, hitting something firm but soft and silky on all fours. His hand pushed on my lower back again, and pressed me flat to what seemed like a bed, and he pinned me on either side of my torso with his legs.
I was stunned into silence and started to fight back again, pulling my hands up to push my torso up, even though I could feel that I wasn’t going anywhere. He grabbed my wrists, one at a time, and pulled them firmly but with a bizarre kind of gentleness, up above my head, and I felt something clasp them.
Leather. A leather strap. I looked up at my hands through my loose, sweaty hair and caught a glimpse of the device he was securing around my wrist. A thick leather strap, with a soft velvety inside.
Up went my other hand. I was still pinned between his thighs, his body weight lightly on top of my ass, and my options, I could tell, were running out.
“What are you doing?” I screamed.
His fingers worked their way to the hips of my jeans, one hand finding the button at the front by slipping beneath me, and then the jeans were coming off, peeling away, down my legs.
I couldn’t kick until he pulled them free of my feet. I paused too long—not that I knew what to do anyway—and he was back on me, his weight hovering just above my knees.
His hand moved to the silk of the underwear—the only thing between him and my bare bottom. The imprints of his firm spanking were still sore to the touch. Heat rose to the surface of my skin and gave me a shivery reminder of what he had done to me at Kitty Bang Bang, and again here.
And my body betrayed me again—it already had, just from the dream, but it continued to do so, my pussy throbbing, my juices welling up and into the new panties.
I dropped my head to the silken bed and turned it to the right. Shadows moved through the partial view to my right, where I saw a sight that made me freeze, my heart cold as ice: straps, belts, whips, and paddles, hanging from the wall, their use very obvious.
And his hand, the veins over its wiry muscle, selecting a strap of thick black leather.
“Wait,” I panted.
The leather was out of sight now, and then, cool against my skin, sliding over my shoulder, then back down my back, snaking over my body from shoulder blades to knees. I couldn’t help a twitch as it passed gently over the silk underwear, and the raw skin beneath it. My pussy throbbed again.
He said nothing, but the leather continued to play over my skin. I closed my eyes. “Wait, please,” I said.
I knew what I was in for, and I sensed that I could perhaps avoid it—the stinging pain, the throbbing heat, the humiliation of his discipline—by just begging him not to, saying that I would be good, that I would eat whatever he wanted me to.
But something stopped me from saying any of that. I couldn’t tell if it was pride, or defiance, or—and I didn’t let this thought surface in my mind, not really—was it that I wanted him to discipline me, to spank me into submission, to make my bottom red and my face flare with humiliation, and then get me to get on my knees and beg him to let me eat from his hand?
I squinted my eyes closed, unable to believe my thoughts went there as the leather strap moved playfully, frighteningly, over my skin.
“I’m disappointed, Natalia, that you haven’t yet learned your lesson,” he said smoothly.
He swatted my ass lightly through the underwear. It was a mild sting, just enough to make me gasp, and for my bottom to warm in a streak—and enough to make my pussy drip into the soaked underwear and trickle onto my thighs.
He swatted me again, this time harder, and I gasped audibly. The sting was intense, and it burned on my bottom, but also like a shot of whiskey in my chest. My eyes grew involuntarily watery.
“Do you know what your lesson is, Natalia?” he said, his hand moving over the underwear, sliding along the hem, rough pads of strong fingers just barely skipping along the line of the underwear and into my wet thighs.
I cringed as my body involuntarily rose toward him, pushing against him but only to aid him, as his finger slipped under the hem of the panties and brushed along the soaked outer lip of my pussy. A feathery touch, suddenly withdrawn, almost as if he were angry as I was that he had found me gushing into the underwear.
I heard him suck in his breath, and his thighs tightened against my knees, forcing my right leg to cross over the top of my left calf, making my butt rise to avoid him squeezing too painfully.
He ripped the panties away, and I felt for a moment the coolness of the room against my exposed ass, felt humiliation wash over me as I pictured myself there, tied face-down at the wrists, my ass upturned to his gaze, my legs squeezed between his as he looked down at my wet pussy between the streaks of red from his last spanking.
The strap came down with a sharp, burning bite to emphasize the end of each declaration. “I am. The one. Who tells you. What you will do. Not. The other. Way. Around.”
The pain was so intense that my eyes were streaming tears, and I was stunned into silence until he stopped. I tried to find my voice to tell him to stop, that I would listen, but he laid another slap across my bottom, crisscrossing my bare skin with the emphasis of his words.
“Do you understand me, Natalia?” he growled.
“I do,” I managed to say. “Please. Stop. I do, I understand,” I squeaked.
The insides of my thighs were wet with my juices. My face burned.
His hand moved in a gentle caress over my bottom, and then he squeezed my sore flesh. Heat throbbed into the welts, almost as painful as being whipped again. “I have heard this before from you, Natalia,” he said, his voice quiet and stern.
There was a long pause. “And frankly you’re trying my patience,” he said at last.
My nose was running, my face wet with the inescapable tears of pain. “I’m sorry,” I croaked, because now I was just begging, though I knew there was not much point. “I am. This time I get it. I do,” I blubbered.
His fingers fanned out on the center of my ass, and his thumb slid over my asshole, down to my pussy, then back up, dragging my juices with it. My thighs trembled.
“How can I be sure of that, Natalia?” he asked me, his thumb making a circle on my eyelet, sending inexplicably delicious feelings through me, mingled with the humiliation of having a man fondling me so intimately. “How can I be sure you’ve really learned your lesson?”
He was musing, his voice distant, the questions no longer in search of an answer. I knew he was going to give me the answer. I knew that now the only thing to do was submit to him—whatever he was going to do—and I could feel my body almost giving over to that very idea.
Did I want him to? Did I want him to take me like this? I’d imagined anal sex before, bending over to be dominated like this, and I enjoyed the thought of it, but I had never done it before. He wouldn’t… actually…
“I want you to count off the strokes of your discipline for me, Natalia,” he said, and as the words sank in, he rubbed my ass, igniting the already burning skin. “I am going to give you ten firm strokes. And you are going to count them off, to show me that you understand who commands here.”
His thumb had traveled down to my pussy, sweeping with it a scandalous amount of slippery juice, and was poised at my eyelet by the time he finished speaking, wet, warm, massaging me gently.
“Do you understand?” he growled, and at the same time he thrust his finger inside of me. There was a sharp burst of pain, and I threw my head to one side and wailed, but the pain subsided almost instantly, and all I could feel was the delicious, dull, full ache of his finger, moving in a clockwise direction, pressing up and out against the inside of my ass.
He thrust in deeper and I pushed up against him, wanting him in further, craving the sensation as far as he could go. I whimpered, but it was more from pleasure than pain, and my face burned again with fresh humiliation.
I couldn’t be… enjoying this, could I?
I bit my lip as he fucked me with his thick thumb, my body howling with a new kind of pleasure I had never felt before, the submissive act of it intoxicating me, the physical feel of it almost too intense to withstand.
He squeezed my tailbone between his four fingers and his thumb, and I howled.
“Are you going to be a good girl?” he asked me.
All I managed to say was, “Oh!”
He squeezed more tightly, and so I burst out, “Yes. Yes! I’m going to be a good girl.”
“Yes, sir,” I purred. Then I exclaimed, “Oh!” again as his thumb roughly left my ass.
I felt empty.
“Count for me, like a good little girl, and think about what you are going to do to…”
There was an unusual pause, almost as if he had to take a sip of water in the middle of a speech. “To please me.”
I shuddered. My pussy throbbed.
But the moment was over, and my ass stung suddenly with the crack of his strap.
The thick leather landed somewhat lightly, the sting manageable.
“One,” I breathed.
But each successive whipping was sharper, and each number became more difficult to say, until in the end my face was wet and my whole bottom was on fire. “Ten,” I managed to choke out, after the last stroke sliced through my skin and melted away slowly into a tingling heat.
I had not, I realized, had time to think of what I would promise him to please him. Fear seized me, my ass was too sore for any more.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I gasped. “I’ll… I’ll eat now. I promise. And I won’t give you… any more… trouble…” I babbled.
He moved his hand over my bottom in slow circles.
“What else are you going to do?” he asked.
His voice was different now, almost tender.
“Wh-what…” I stammered. I was trying to say, “What do you want me to do?” but I couldn’t get it out.
“What else are you going to do to please me, Natashka?” His hand was moving over my ass, sending mixtures of pain and pleasure through my body that crowded my mind and blocked out that he was now calling me some other name.
My lips moved: I wanted desperately to tell him that I would do whatever he wanted. At that moment, I would have. I would have gotten on my knees, taken him into my mouth, and swallowed his seed—I wanted to. I would have bitten the sheets as he filled me from behind, swallowing the pain just to feel the fullness inside of me, and to please him with an act of submission. I would have loved to feel him between my legs; I would have ridden on him while he whipped me like a horse. “Anything,” I breathed.
It was true and it was a ploy, what could I say? Surely he would take me now, and ease the ache between my thighs. My back tingled, wanting to feel his hot skin against mine. So what if he was going to kill me? I wasn’t thinking straight any longer…
I expected to feel him in my ass, dominating me, pushing me to the mattress like a sexual slave. Instead, when the thickness of his cock filled me, it was inside my pussy. He was as thick as I had imagined, so hard he pressed out against the root of my clit and practically sent me over the edge with the single, slow thrust that he gave to fill me up.
I heard him gasp, and my own breath caught in my throat. Then he pulled me by the legs and sank over my body, until I was lying flat with him deep inside of me.
I had expected him to fuck me hard and dirty—and don’t get me wrong, the state I was in, I would have loved it—but instead, he moved slowly over me, his cock dragging in languid strokes within me, making my thighs shake almost immediately. I whimpered; the pleasure was as intense as a showerhead right on my clit, only better, because of the heat of his skin all over me, protecting me.
I felt my body seize up with the crest of an orgasm, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, or to stop myself from yelling as I came. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me, like nothing I had ever felt before.
“Don’t move…” I thought I heard him say, and then something in a strange tongue. He balled my hair in his hand and thrust deep inside of me, and I felt his hot seed explode deep in my body.
I was still quivering like a tray of Jell-O, unable to think about anything but coming down from the excruciating pleasure I was feeling. It was too wild, too uncontrolled. Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I thought of him coming inside of me, and how that should have been a very bad thing. But as I lay there trembling, his hot body over me, his cock still twitching inside of me, I was—stupidly, recklessly—unconcerned about it.
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