he fastened tightly around my neck, tugging on it and making my juices dribble down my thighs. But then he fastened cuffs to my arms, and must have climbed onto the chair to fasten them to the ceiling. I hadn‟t noticed a hook, but, then again, I hadn‟t been looking. The heels were the only thing saving this position from being truly uncomfortable, giving me just the needed height. „Now you‟re ready,‟ he said, slipping his hand between my legs. I thought maybe he was going to offer me some relief: ram them deep into my core, let me clench around him rather than clench uselessly. But no. All I got was a light stroke, barely a tickle, against my wet sex. „Spread your legs.‟
I did, enough to feel the air greet my cunt lips. „I take it you‟ve been spanked before, Serena,‟ he said, pausing while I nodded and murmured something I hoped sounded 5
like yes. „Good, because I don‟t believe in going easy on bratty girls like you. Not only don‟t you deserve it easy, you won‟t like it. I know you. I know that you will rise to the occasion. Say „orange‟ if you need me to slow down,
„red‟ if you want me to stop.‟ I nodded again. „But, Serena? I‟ll be very disappointed if you have to safeword.‟ I swallowed, wondering just what he was planning to do to me. I didn‟t want to disappoint him, already, that early, didn‟t want to jinx what could be a very pleasant future. He leaned down and kissed me, then bit my lower lip, enough to make it sting. I tried to kiss him back, but he spat in my mouth, making me rush to swallow. „Oh, and how could I forget?‟ he asked the air, before sliding clamps around my nipples and fastening them tight.
„Do you need to be gagged?‟ he asked me. It felt like a trick question. I‟m a screamer, a loud one. Did he want to hear me scream? Did I? Or did he want me quiet and compliant?
„I don‟t think so,‟ I said, playing it safe, figuring he could always gag me later.
„Good. Now you‟re ready.‟ His voice was at once a bit scary and soothing, letting me know he did, indeed, plan to hurt me, but that he‟d be there to take care of me afterward. I heard all that in his voice, and had trusted him from the moment we‟d met, not because of Christine, but because of him. I‟m good with people, can almost always tell at the start if they‟re trustworthy. I can‟t predict the future or if a relationship will last, but I can tell if someone is worthy of giving over my body, my mind, my soul, as I was about to do. I‟d never been wrong.
He started hitting me with a paddle, not too hard, but enough to make me shake in my bonds. My toes curled 6
downward in a desperate attempt to keep me in place as the smacks got harder. I wasn‟t sure which part of my perversion process I should be focusing on, since all the torments were working together: the bonds around my wrists, the blindfold keeping me from seeing, the collar tight on my throat, the metal pinching my nipples, the feet secured in place or the blows against my ass. He struck me harder, as if to let me know: my focus should be on my bottom. This was about getting spanked; the rest was just extra.
My instinct was to thrust my ass back at him, make it a better target, but I couldn‟t, not like this. He managed just fine, though, whacking me in the sweet spot where my cheeks met, then compounding the effect by raking his short nails along my tender, sore skin. Then his smacks increased in intensity as he brought volley after volley down against one cheek, followed by a barrage against the other. I‟d been quiet up until then, absorbing the sweet pain into my body, focusing on the heat over the pain, focusing on how it made my pussy even wetter, so much so I was probably dripping onto the floor.
Then he started in with a flogger. Oliver didn‟t talk much while he did it, his heavy breathing speaking for him. This was work, of a sort, almost a sport; instead of table tennis, it was living room
I did, enough to feel the air greet my cunt lips. „I take it you‟ve been spanked before, Serena,‟ he said, pausing while I nodded and murmured something I hoped sounded 5
like yes. „Good, because I don‟t believe in going easy on bratty girls like you. Not only don‟t you deserve it easy, you won‟t like it. I know you. I know that you will rise to the occasion. Say „orange‟ if you need me to slow down,
„red‟ if you want me to stop.‟ I nodded again. „But, Serena? I‟ll be very disappointed if you have to safeword.‟ I swallowed, wondering just what he was planning to do to me. I didn‟t want to disappoint him, already, that early, didn‟t want to jinx what could be a very pleasant future. He leaned down and kissed me, then bit my lower lip, enough to make it sting. I tried to kiss him back, but he spat in my mouth, making me rush to swallow. „Oh, and how could I forget?‟ he asked the air, before sliding clamps around my nipples and fastening them tight.
„Do you need to be gagged?‟ he asked me. It felt like a trick question. I‟m a screamer, a loud one. Did he want to hear me scream? Did I? Or did he want me quiet and compliant?
„I don‟t think so,‟ I said, playing it safe, figuring he could always gag me later.
„Good. Now you‟re ready.‟ His voice was at once a bit scary and soothing, letting me know he did, indeed, plan to hurt me, but that he‟d be there to take care of me afterward. I heard all that in his voice, and had trusted him from the moment we‟d met, not because of Christine, but because of him. I‟m good with people, can almost always tell at the start if they‟re trustworthy. I can‟t predict the future or if a relationship will last, but I can tell if someone is worthy of giving over my body, my mind, my soul, as I was about to do. I‟d never been wrong.
He started hitting me with a paddle, not too hard, but enough to make me shake in my bonds. My toes curled 6
downward in a desperate attempt to keep me in place as the smacks got harder. I wasn‟t sure which part of my perversion process I should be focusing on, since all the torments were working together: the bonds around my wrists, the blindfold keeping me from seeing, the collar tight on my throat, the metal pinching my nipples, the feet secured in place or the blows against my ass. He struck me harder, as if to let me know: my focus should be on my bottom. This was about getting spanked; the rest was just extra.
My instinct was to thrust my ass back at him, make it a better target, but I couldn‟t, not like this. He managed just fine, though, whacking me in the sweet spot where my cheeks met, then compounding the effect by raking his short nails along my tender, sore skin. Then his smacks increased in intensity as he brought volley after volley down against one cheek, followed by a barrage against the other. I‟d been quiet up until then, absorbing the sweet pain into my body, focusing on the heat over the pain, focusing on how it made my pussy even wetter, so much so I was probably dripping onto the floor.
Then he started in with a flogger. Oliver didn‟t talk much while he did it, his heavy breathing speaking for him. This was work, of a sort, almost a sport; instead of table tennis, it was living room
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