Mercy by Annabel Joseph Page B

to speak again, better, more politely, more deferentially, just as he liked. And although we practiced BDSM together, I was cautioned to never call him master or daddy , nor, for that matter, any vanilla endearments like honey or dear . I was only permitted to call him sir or Matthew . Mr. Norris was strictly off limits. He said it made him feel old, although he was only ten or so years older than me.
    As for me, he usually called me Lucy, but he had his own favorite terms for me which he used whenever it pleased him. Slut , whore , and tramp were the favored ones. Dirty little whore , slutty dirty tramp , there were endless permutations. Occasionally he’d call me my favorite pet name, little fuck . As in, you little fuck, that’s not nearly good enough. Kneel up straighter and try it again. Perhaps you don’t see these as endearments, but I did, because when he said these words to me, his voice resonated with lust.
    I became less skittish with each subsequent session, and more open to the pain which I actually came to enjoy. I guess once I realized he wasn’t going to hurt me, really hurt me, it made it easier to bear. With Matthew, the pain was always equally tempered with pleasure, so the two things for me began to seem one and the same, two facets of one thrilling experience, two sides of the same coin.
    For his part, he moved me very carefully along a continuum. As demanding as he was, I could see a painstaking and wonderfully protective method to everything he did. That made me adore him more than anything, the mindful way he trained me to do the things he asked.
    And he asked for things I never would have considered doing before I met him. Usually, I ended up liking them very much. My favorite activity with Matthew, despite my inexperience with it, was getting fucked in the ass. I took to it like a fish takes to water, which was a good thing because he used me there a lot. He trained me to it slowly, teased me for three whole weeks with ever-widening dildos and butt plugs. By the third week, he’d progressed to making me sleep with one all night. I would writhe and fidget beside him, burning with lust, desperate for him to take out the plug and just fuck me there already. He would feign impatience. Go to sleep, Lucy . But I know he loved how horny he made me feel, loved the fact that I was, surprisingly, quite the anal-craving slut.
    It was on one of those torturous nights I lay fidgeting, that he turned me to face him and looked at me hard.
    “Lucy, please. Is it that uncomfortable?”
    “It’s just...invasive.”
    “Yes, it’s meant to be. In the morning, I’m fucking your ass and I don’t want to have to fight my way in.” Then he’d turned his back on me with a great sigh. Tomorrow, tomorrow... tomorrow !
    I squeezed my legs together. I was so horny for his cock and morning was still hours away. Soon, I heard his breathing get slow and regular, and I shifted ever so slightly and put my hand between my legs.
    My clit was wet and swollen. My fingers caressed it furtively, sliding over the slickness. I barely moved, tensing my body. I only tapped at it lightly, but I knew I would come. I almost did, I was so close, when I heard Matthew shift and felt his big hand close hard over mine.
    “ So against the rules. Did I tell you to touch yourself?”
    “No, sir.” Shit.
    “Did I say you could come?”
    “No, sir,” I almost sobbed, my near orgasm of relief ebbing away. He pulled me close against the front of him and whispered against my ear.
    “I put that little toy in your bottom to remind you all night that you belong to me. To remind you that you’re going to take my cock in your ass soon—and often, little one. If you have an orgasm, it’s because I gave it to you and I want to enjoy watching it. I’m sorry you’re a little anal-erotic slut, but you’ve been naughty. What happens to naughty girls?”
    “Punishment,” I whispered.
    “Tomorrow you’ll take twenty before I fuck your ass.