Delicious Pain - a BDSM Collection by Portia Da Costa Page A

tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. They really hurt, and what's more, they're weighted, so they pull on breasts as they dangle. Worse, or perhaps better in a dark twisted way, that pulling sensation seems to drag my clit too.
    What a state he's got me in. Here I am, presented, subjugated for his pleasure with a bare, vulnerable bottom and remorseless nipple clamps plaguing my breasts. I love it, being his "object", his plaything. My pussy drips. I'm almost ready to come, just from being here.
    "Now stay where you are. Don't move a muscle. And most especially, don't touch yourself or climax."
    Where's he going? Where the hell is he going? With a swish of his long dark greatcoat he strides out of the shelter and right out of view.
    For a few minutes I'm completely alone. I'm fearful, yet absurdly, even more excited than ever. I imagine people, mainly men, coming along the path, and stopping to stare at my bum, and my breasts, perhaps fondling me. But I can't do a thing because Sebastian's told me not to move.
    My heart nearly stops when I hear footsteps approaching, but then it speeds up even more when I recognize the tread. He swirls back into the shelter, a couple of freshly pulled and trimmed switches, mini branchlets, in his hands.
    "These should do nicely," he says, sounding pleased with himself as he hefts the instruments of my forthcoming punishment, assessing their weight and flight like the expert he is.
    Oh, those are going to smart! He's a master with any implement, and with his hand, but he'll really make those beauties fly.
    "Have you moved while I was away?" He lays one of the switches across my bottom, just letting it rest there. "Have you fiddled with yourself, you naughty girl?"
    I haven't, but part of me wants to say that I have. I love playing the wicked, helpless, hopeless little strumpet to his stern disciplinarian.
    "No matter..." He preempts my answer. "Even if you haven't done it, you've thought about it, and that's enough. The thought is misbehavior too." He reaches beneath me, tugging a nipple clip, and making me moan and jiggle my hips; which, of course, makes everything worse than ever, because of what's inside me. I really am in a terrible, yet wonderful state.
    I'm dying to come again.
    "Right, that's it... It's time to beat the wickedness out of you, you mucky little trollop." He taps my bottom ever so lightly, as if sighting for the real blows. "Assume a better position. You're not really trying here. Dish your back and stick your bottom out. Present yourself, woman."
    I do the best I can, but it's difficult with my panties and jeans around my ankles, and it's cold too, even though I am burning up with desire.
    Ow! Ow! Ow!
    While I'm still trying to flex myself into a better shape for him, he lands three hard slashes, right across the crown of both buttocks at once, all parallel. After a split second of shock, they explode in white fire, and I keen out, "Nooo!"
    "Yes!" he corrects, swishing again, another three.
    Already sobbing, I rock my hips and that makes everything worse. The pain is fierce, but the love balls and the swing of the weighted nipple clips are demonic. I simply don't know if I'm coming... or going mad from the raging hurt in my bottom, and the torment of my breasts.
    "Keep still, Megan. Be good. For me..." His voice is quiet, almost tender, sweetly beguiling.
    I strain to obey him, and to please him. It's all I want to do right now. I have a real life, a normal life where I'm in control of my own destiny and I do what I want as a Twenty First Century woman, but in this precious magic world of ours, all I want to do, all I live for, is to be what he wants me to be.
    His. His plaything. His object. His perfect submissive.
    "There, that's better," he almost croons, punctuating it with another hard cut, right across the under-hang of my bottom, close to my sex. He would never hit me there, but getting within millimeters of it is a skill he's polished; that and striking me