Chapter 11
Kenny hadn’t looked forward to coming home from work this much since… ever.
But he knew something was wrong when he opened the door to find Willow on her knees, true regret and fear in her scent.
She was wearing her dress, but was in a spread-kneel, head bowed, hands palms-up on her thighs.
“I disobeyed today, Sir,” she said without looking up.
“Already?” His tone was flat, but a frisson of excitement went through his system. He’d expected it to happen the following day, but depending on what she’d done, today was probably fine.
He stood six feet in front of her and crossed his arms. Looked down with a face he’d been told made people want to piss their pants.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I touched myself without permission.”
“Just touched yourself?”
She shook her head and looked at his feet. “I had an orgasm, Sir.”
He studied her for a moment, then motioned her toward the kitchen. When she went to stand, he shook his head. “Crawl.”
The scent of the casserole hit him before he reached the doorway, rich and savory. He glanced at the oven display — twenty-three minutes left, then it would drop into warming mode.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of heavy-duty clamps, the industrial kind with rubber-tipped jaws. “Stand.”
She rose, and he leaned in to fasten one clamp, watching her face when the pain hit and she hissed then yelped.
He put the other on and flicked them both.
“Consider these specific clamps a hall pass. They let you enter the playroom without someone present to give permission.”
Her lips parted on a quick breath, and she nodded.
“Go upstairs. Gather the TENS unit, the nipple leads that go with it, arrange everything on one end of the bondage table. Then stand in the corner until someone comes for you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He waited until she was gone before pulling out his phone and opening the group chat. She gave herself an orgasm today. TENS to the clit seems appropriate. I’ll handle it.
Boone responded with a thumbs-up emoji. Silas: 20 minutes out.
I’ll wait to get started. Some corner time to think about what’s coming will do her good.
If she was human, he’d have to go up and take the clamps off, but a shifter would be fine for twenty to thirty minutes.
Not that she would think she was fine.
He double-checked the casserole and then walked out onto the porch to breathe in the energy of pack a few minutes while he waited for Silas.
When the two men entered the playroom around twenty-five minutes later, Willow stood in the corner, feet together, forehead against the wall, the room filled with a combination of mostly regret, with arousal and fear battling it out for second place.
Kenny had her on the bondage table in less than two minutes — ankles situated beside her ass and out a little, and bound to connectors at the edge of the table. A strap ran from those same connectors, up and around each bent knee, pulling them out so there’d be no way to close her legs.
Wrists were secured high and wide above her head. The wiffle ball gag went in next, stretching her jaw wide enough to bring instant ache.
The clamps came off her nipples and the egg out of her pussy. He ignored her screams of pain when the clamps came off, and debated about the plug before he pulled it, too. He didn’t want either coming on while he punished her clit.
This punishment was about programming and calibration, not about breaking her. She needed to associate defiance with consequence. Every time she thought about slipping again, her clit would remember this moment.
He considered lecturing her, but decided words weren’t necessary. She’d come clean about disobeying, now she was to be punished. Lectures were for when she didn’t understand the problem, didn’t fully grasp what she’d done.
Though he was kind of surprised Silas wasn’t taunting her.
Kenny held one of the TENS nipple clamps in his right hand, lifted her clit hood up and away with his left, and clamped it directly onto her bare clit.
Her entire body jerked against the restraints. She yelped and squealed, but the true pain hadn’t started yet.
A few seconds to get the TENS set so it would feel like electricity rather than a relaxing wave, the intensity about half the maximum, and then he watched her face when he pressed the button for her first jolt because he wanted to see the shift from dread to realization.
The first wave was always the worst, and her entire body arched hard against the cuffs, a guttural sound vibrating through the gag. He dialed the setting higher, watching the muscles in her thighs twitch with each pulse.
She thrashed, tried to pull away from the current, but the cuffs kept her in place. Her eyes watered, the strain in her arms and jaw tight, and still he worked the dial up one click at a time.
Silas sat in the armchair at the side of the room, pants open, stroking himself slowly, his gaze fixed on her face.
Kenny focused back on her, adjusting the pulse width and rate frequencies so it would feel more like a lightning strike than biting ants.
Electrical pain works differently than physical impact, and he wanted her to internalize the lesson that she isn’t tough enough to outlast electricity.
True punishment is supposed to hurt beyond what the penitent thinks is bearable.
This time, the jolt brought out a blood-curdling primal scream. Fire surged through his veins and blood engorged his cock like it’d been directed there by the sound.
Silas’s grip tightened, in the chair off to the side. His cock twitched in his hand, pre-cum glinting in the low light.
Willow had known that walking through the front door meant she was handing her body and psyche over to three sadists.
Also, she hadn’t hesitated when agreeing that if she safeworded during punishment, it would mean the foursome would need to have a group meeting about whether this situation was working.
A submissive who safewords during punishment isn’t ready for ownership.
Deliberately disobeying orders means actual pain that can’t be eroticized. That’s the point.
Kenny worked her over for twelve minutes, and the last three minutes he only stopped the jolt long enough for her to catch a breath between screams.
He leaned down to take the clamp off her clit and told her, “Twelve minutes of the TENS for the orgasm, and twelve of Silas’s best with the strap for touching yourself in the first place.
Both given to your clit. If you hadn’t told me the instant I came home, there would be further punishments for hiding your defiance of our rules. ”
* * * *
The clamp came free, and Willow barely drew a breath before Silas stepped in front of her.
Her pulse slammed into overdrive. The strap in his hand was well-worn. It would hurt on an ass. It would be beyond bearable on her clit.
He moved between her bound knees and slammed the first strike down square across her clit.
A brutal snap of leather, and pain detonated behind her eyes, white-hot and blinding. She screamed into the gag and her entire body jerked against the restraints, every instinct trying to curl her into a ball. But the cuffs and thigh straps held her wide, exposed, and helpless.
Held her open for more.
The second blow landed before she could catch her breath, sharper than the first. Her hands twisted uselessly in the cuffs above her head. Her vision blurred.
By the fifth strike, the ache had gone deep, radiating out through her pelvis until she could feel it in her lower back. She lost count somewhere after that, each crack of leather striking flesh stole her breath, stripped her focus, left her clit raw and her throat hoarse from screaming.
When he finally stopped, she thought it was over. She sagged in the restraints, every muscle trembling.
“Two more,” Silas said. “Look at me, naughty little cumslut.”
She met his gaze, terror rocketing through her nerves all over again.
“Full strength, and this is behind us, which means if I have something to say, I have to do it now. I’m disappointed in you for breaking the rules, but I respect that you came clean right away. This is about wiping the slate clean. Two more, and it’s gone.”
The strap came down with a vicious crack that tore a scream straight from her core.
Agony rocketed through her, her breath exploding into a sob as her thighs jolted against the restraints.
Every nerve between her legs screamed, the pain radiating up into her belly until she thought she might throw up.
The last one landed harder. Deeper into the tender, raw, brutalized flesh. A strangled scream tore from her throat, the sound eventually breaking into a sob. Her vision spotted, her body shuddering with the effort to curl in on itself, but the bondage held.
And then it was done — the throbbing, searing ache all that remained, hot and pulsing in time with her heartbeat. She sagged again, gulping air, her mind clinging to the one thing that made it bearable: it was over.
Her wrists were freed first, then her ankles. The gag came out last, leaving her jaw throbbing. She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth, managing a whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”
And she meant it. If broken rules didn’t bring serious and inescapable consequences, then they didn’t matter. She’d hated every minute of it, but she’d forced their hand, and they hadn’t disappointed.
Kenny didn’t smile, but there was a small shift in his eyes. Satisfaction. Approval.
He motioned toward the bathroom. “Wash your face, straighten yourself up. Dinner in ten.”
She walked carefully to her bathroom. The skin between her legs felt swollen and angry, every step a reminder. She splashed cool water on her face, brushed her hair back into place, and took one more deep breath before donning her dress in the hallway and heading downstairs.
The scent of the casserole met her halfway down. Kenny and Silas were already at the table. Boone joined them a moment later, his shirt sleeves pushed up, forearms corded from work.