All I was learning was how terrifying he could be and how stupid I was to repeatedly place myself at his mercy.
It’s okay, it’s okay.
I tried to think of Andrew, tried to think about submission as a high. I usually felt pretty high by the time Price was done with me, but tonight...with the mask and gag, and the scary black rope…
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
I kicked off my shoes, then scrabbled for my skirt’s zipper by feel. I took off my blouse and panties next, and then my adulterated bra, fumbling with the clasp. I couldn’t see where to put them, so I just dropped everything on the floor. I hated being blindfolded. I hated that I couldn’t see, but I didn’t dare reach up and take the mask off. During our first date, yes, I would have done it if my hands weren’t zip-tied behind me. But now, I knew better.
He put me on the bed, face down, and pulled my arms over my head. I felt the scratch of rope around each wrist, and pictured the jet black color against my skin. He worked in silence to secure me hand and foot, and then shoved pillows under my hips to raise my ass. He drew the ropes tight so I was spread eagle with hardly any slack.
I wish I could say I endured all this in stoic submission to his will. I didn’t. I whined behind the ball gag each time he encircled one of my limbs with the rope, and full-on panicked when he tried to secure my left ankle. I kicked him hard enough—once—to hear a grunt. A moment later I felt a searing explosion of pain across my ass. It had to have been the clear Lucite paddle with the holes. To get whacked full blast, without a warm up, almost made me piss myself.
“Surrender,” he reminded me sternly. “You’d better start trying to figure it out.”
After that, I cried softly into the gag, but refrained from any more kicking. Jesus, he hadn’t even started on me yet and I was terrified to endure any more of that paddle.
You allowed him to bring you here, Chere. You knew it would be bad.
I squirmed my pelvis against the pillows as he moved around the room doing God knew what. I heard only rustles and his faint breath. I pulled at the rope but he was a Boy Scout with the knots. I turned my head with a jerky movement when he finally spoke.
“Relax,” he said in an even, soothing voice. “You can’t get away. You can only surrender to me. You
want
to surrender to me, and we both know it. It’s time to stop fucking around.”
I heard a whoosh, a whisper through the air, and then the slicing heat of a cane stroke before I had time to brace. I meant to say
no
, to say
stop
, but all that came out was a long, ragged shriek.
“Yes, I know it hurts like hell,” he said as I stiffened in agony, “but I think that’s for the best.”
The cane fell again, and I screamed again as I fought to escape. We were half a minute into this punishment and I was dying.
Oh my God, oh my God.
I would never, ever survive this. It killed so bad.
“You’re getting ten of these”
Whack.
“and then I’ll work you over”
Whack.
“with the paddle”
Whack.
“and we’ll see where we are.”
Each time he hit me, the pain felt hotter and more impossible. The mask forced me into darkness, into my own agonized mind.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” I babbled, although the ball gag just turned my words into muffled nonsense. “Please, please, no, stop, please.”
Whack.
I tried to turn away from each successive stroke, pressing down into the pillows, but I couldn’t do anything to get away.
Whack.
Oh God, I’m dying!
I cried louder through the gag, harder, as if that might move him. He only whacked me again. “Hush. I have neighbors.”
I needed his neighbors to bust through the wall and rescue me. He landed the last two strokes on the backs of my thighs. I squealed at the fresh slices of pain and wished I could go back in time and categorically refuse this lesson in surrender, our dynamic, everything. No more canes. Never. I tried to sob quietly but it was hard with the burning heat radiating from each throbbing stripe.
“Had enough of the cane?” he asked.
I nodded in the direction of his voice, trying to look apologetic.
I’ve learned my lesson. Surrender only from now on. No more rebellion. No.
I felt the bed dip. He traced each of the ten cane tracks while I tried to collect myself. “Are you ready for the paddle now?” he asked when he finished. “It’s going to feel pretty torturous on top of those welts you already have.”
No. I didn’t want torturous. I wanted more stroking, and his reassuring weight beside me. He rose from the bed and I braced, squirming, whining, tensing my ass cheeks like that might protect me.
It didn’t.
I screamed through the gag as he gave me five hard paddle cracks in a row. The sting erupted in the shape of a big painful rectangle, rather than the razor fine line of the cane. Either way, it was unbearable. I needed to be untied. I wanted to be left alone to nurse my aching ass and my aching psyche.
“Are you letting go?” he asked. “From here on out, are you going to accept the fact that you like to surrender? That you live to surrender?”
It wasn’t surrender I lived for. It was his voice and his force and his capability. Even now, the more he hurt me, the more I wanted him. I was tired of trying to understand. I supposed that was surrender enough. I moaned behind the gag and nodded.
“Are you going to show me your fucking tits when I want to see your tits?” he asked. “No more sulking and whining and behaving like a brat?”
I nodded as hard as I could, making urgent sounds behind the gag.
Another spank, another shriek. “I’m happy to hear that.”
He might have been happy to hear it, but he paddled me some more anyway, at least a dozen hard, steady strokes on my one-thousand-degree butt cheeks. They felt like they were on fire, like flames must be licking up into the air and setting off his building’s fire alarm. I pictured the sprinklers dousing us, although I doubted even a deluge of sprinkler water could put out this fire.
Ow, ow, ow...
I understood now why he’d shoved so many pillows under me. I probably would have injured myself otherwise.
I’ll do better. I’ll try harder to surrender. Please...
My muscles strained within the bondage. I couldn’t turn my body, but I bounced up and down with every stinging blow. My face was damp, my eyes streaming with tears behind the mask. When he stopped, I kept crying, because I was afraid he’d start up again.
“I’ll take the gag off if you promise to be quiet,” he said.
I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know if I could be quiet if he paddled me some more, or God, started in with the cane again. I felt his hands in my hair, pulling it tight between his fingers. “Are you listening? Will you be quiet?”
I just moaned, a plaintive, animal sound begging him to stop.
He left, walked across the room. I heard water running, probably in an adjoining bathroom. I wondered if I was bleeding, if he would have to patch me up. My ass felt swollen and numb and throbby, like he’d opened some spurting artery. He came back and unbuckled the gag, and wiped the drool from my mouth and chin with a damp cloth.
“Am I bleeding?” I asked in a broken voice.
He chuckled next to my ear. “You’re not bleeding, my little drama queen. You’re just a hot, deep shade of red.” He rubbed my ass. The abrasive contact made me cringe.
“Ow,” I whined. He rubbed harder. “Ow.
Owww.
”
“Hush, or we’ll start all over.”
I pressed as close to him as I could, still blind and caught in my bonds.
Surrender, Chere. Surrender.
A shivering sob shook me every few seconds. He’d gotten me so worked up, I couldn’t calm down.
“Pain and sex,” he murmured, stroking a finger up my spine. “Such a potent combination. Do you like when I hurt you, baby?”
My shiver turned to a shudder. I answered truthfully, trying not to feel ashamed. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir, I like when you hurt me.”
He stroked my shoulder blades, my hair, my nape, his firm, possessive touch making me fall deeper in love or lust or whatever the hell it was I felt for him.
“It’s okay to like it,” he said. “Say it:
It’s okay to like it.
”
“It’s o-okay to like it,” I stammered.
“You’re going to get fucked now. You’re going to take it in your sore, red-hot ass to learn a little more about surrender, and I’m not going to use very much lube. I think it should hurt you a little. Don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whimpered, even though I wasn’t sure how much more hurting I could take.
He parted my cheeks, depositing a scant amount of lubricant around my clenching hole. His body covered mine, a warm, masculine weight that would be pleasant if he wasn’t positioning himself to drive into my ass. I wanted to beg him to be gentle, to be careful and go slow, but I was afraid he’d be rougher on purpose, so I kept my mouth shut. Soft, strained panic noises escaped my throat.
One of the hardest parts of being the submissive member of our twisted relationship was that he kept me so helpless. I wanted to be fucked, yes, my pussy was dying, aching with lust, but it was so hard to be trapped at someone’s mercy. I had no recourse, no choice. I was tied hand and foot, with my ass propped in the air by a pile of pillows. He was going to fuck me and I was going to deal with it. I loved being overpowered by him, and
it was okay to like it
, but oh my God...fuck...
The head of his cock slipped against the lube at my entrance, pushing, poking, not quite making it in. He pushed harder, stretching me open by pure physics. Hard cock, steady pressure.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I chanted as the pain intensified. “Ow, ow,
ow, ow, please...
”
“Let me in.” He sounded so much calmer than I did. “I’m getting in either way.”
I panted as he stopped just inside me. I felt so full, just from the tip. My “ows” had become low, pleading groans.
“Does it hurt that much?” he asked.
“Yes!”
His thighs were warm against the insides of my tied-open legs. He grabbed a handful of my hair along with the mask’s strap, and yanked my head back.
“Ask for the rest of me.”
Holy shit.
The harder he pulled, the louder I whined. My ass clenched around him, trying to push him back out.
“You’re hurting me,” I cried.
“Ask for the rest of me.”
“Please...”
“Please what?”
Surrender, Chere.
“Please give me the rest of your c-cock,” I said, my voice faltering over the words. “Please push it deep inside me. I want it. I
like it
.”
He made a satisfied noise and proceeded to jam his length into me, inch by excruciating inch, until I felt his nut sack brush against my sodden slit. By then, the acute pain of entry had passed. Now there was only the feeling of being split in two, of being filled with something way too large in a space that was way too small. I pursed my lips and lay absolutely still.
“Is that better?” he asked. “Is it deep enough inside you to hurt?”
I whimpered. “No, Sir.”
He let go of my hair and parted my ass cheeks, holding each in a firm, painful grip. He thrust the last inch or two into me, hard enough to push me down against the bed. My clit slid across the pillows as I clenched around him. My dark, surrendered world was filled with his dominance, and a fine edge of pain.
“Are you rubbing your pussy on my pillows?” he asked.
“Yes. I can’t help it.”
“You filthy fucking whore.”
He may have called me a filthy fucking whore in that growly voice of his, but the only thing that registered was that he hadn’t told me to stop. I gasped in time to his thrusts, like he was fucking the life out of me, and rubbed my clit against his soft designer pillows for all I was worth. The pleasure was so hot, so exquisite, because Price was being so mean to me and
it was okay to like it
. Sometimes I thought I was a shitty submissive compared to Andrew, that my heart wasn’t really in it.
But now, tied down with Price’s cock plowing my paddled ass, my heart was in it. I was surrendered, one hundred percent. The more I ground against the pillows, the harder he fucked me. Each time he pressed deep, I felt so, so close to coming. He let go of my ass cheeks and held my hips, drilling me. I lost myself in the steady fuck, and the feel of his hands grasping my skin, forcing me to take him, and my God, the pounding felt so...good...on...my...clit.
“Please, please, please,” I murmured over and over. I meant
Please don’t stop
, and
Please keep hurting me
, and
Please let me survive this. Please never untie me. Please fuck me like this every hour of every day.
When I could hardly bear it anymore, my orgasm exploded, unraveling in an agonizing series of pulses, hot pleasure constricting my pussy and ass. I wished he had been embracing me. I needed someone to cling to, someone to shudder against. His cock felt wonderful deep inside me, but he wasn’t holding me, and it didn’t feel like enough.
I guess that was the punishment part of it.
Good girl. Bad girl. Play these games with me and I’ll make you orgasm, but only on my terms.
Now he was coming too, nice and deep and firm. Since I’d already come, I let myself lie there and experience his power and his own harsh gasps.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he said. “Holy fuck.”
He collapsed on top of me, twitching through a few last shallow thrusts. My body still clenched around him in intermittent pulses, unwilling to let the last throes of ecstasy fade.
“Are you alive?” he asked, when I didn’t move for long moments.
I pressed my face against the bed. “My ass hurts.”
“An occasional side effect of surrender. You did great though. You were very…determined,” he said, borrowing a word from my evaluation.
I could hear true pleasure in his voice, and it gave me a warm, trembly feeling. He kissed my shoulder as I blinked behind the mask.
“
Star-shadows shine
,” he said beside my ear. “
How many stars in your bowl? How many shadows in your soul?
”