Chapter 4 #2
“Good girl. Here’s one of the few choices I’ll give you. Do you want me to blindfold you before I restrain you?”
I’d prefer eye contact during this first real scene, but a repeated theme in Brenna’s favorite scenes and fantasies is loss of sight.
That suggests sensory deprivation is something she needs, and I want to start fulfilling her needs.
There’s also a strong appeal in taking away her sight and forcing her to focus on what I’m making her feel.
I’m only giving her a choice because she’s so bold that she may be masking the fear it would be absolutely normal for her to feel submitting to an unknown sadist. Eye contact might help allay that fear, and, once she’s up on the web, she’ll also be able to see Logan monitoring the scene, which could give her comfort as well.
I’ll make whatever she chooses work.
She takes several breaths before speaking, which tells me she’s going through some of the same mental processes I did.
I stroke her while she thinks, learning the textures of her body.
Her belly and inner thighs are so silky, softer than baby skin.
Her mons has that slight unevenness that tells me she shaves or waxes.
I like hair to play with there but asking her to let it grow out is a way off. Something to look forward to.
“Sir, I feel stupid,” she whispers. “I want both. I know that’s not the choice you gave me—”
“Dungeon rule, girl, nothing you say to me in here is stupid. I can give you both. Have you done honor bondage?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
I glance at Logan because I’d expect a well-trained submissive to at least be trained in honor bondage, even if it’s not something she’s done in scenes. He shrugs his free shoulder, which reminds me that Logan didn’t train Brenna.
“We’ll talk about honor bondage another time. For this scene, when I tell you to close your eyes, you will do so and keep them closed until I give you permission to open them again. Breaking the honor blindfold carries the same consequence as the plug. Do you remember what that consequence was?”
She nods.
I give her a moment to answer aloud, then prompt with a corrective slap on her mons, “In scene, answer me verbally, please.”
“Sorry, sir. Yes, I remember the consequence. A strike of the Delrin on my ass for each infraction.”
“That’s right. Because this is new to you, you have one pass. Using it to test me would be . . . unwise.”
She shivers and I stroke her labia to double-check that all of this is turning her on. She seems to be deep in the scene, sinking into the perfect headspace, but it never hurts to check.
My fingertips slide across her slick, secret skin. Perfect.
I lift my gleaming fingers to her mouth. “Lick it off, slut.”
A stronger shiver runs through her and she squeezes her eyes closed but flicks out her tongue and licks each finger clean.
“Perfect girl,” I rumble in her ear and reward her by kissing her neck.
She tips her head to the side to give me better access.
I nip and suck, enjoying the soft resilience of her skin and the warm, buttery scent of her hair, leaving a livid trail of suck and bite marks that have her vibrating in my arms. She agreed to marks during our lunch, which is one of the many reasons I wanted to talk with her outside the heady excitement of a scene, when she might agree to things she regrets later. “Down on all fours now.”
She sags in the harness of my arms and I hold her steady until she folds down to her knees.
Once she’s on all fours, I take the crop off my belt and tap her inner thighs until she spreads her knees a little wider, then tap the small of her back until she tips her hips up.
When her pussy and plugged ass are perfectly displayed for me, I run the tongue of the crop up and down her spine as a reward.
“This is the position I want when you’re on hands and knees, girl. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stretch out your left leg and hold your foot as high in the air as you can.” I’m testing her balance and flexibility with the position, but also making it easier on my almost fifty-year-old-back to put the ankle cuff on her.
She shifts her weight onto her bad hip a little gingerly but gets her foot as high as I could hope for.
She might be flexible enough to touch her toes to the back of her head, which has my cock twitching with possibilities.
For now, I pick up one of the padded cuffs and buckle it around her ankle, admiring the intricate tattoo of gray roses and tiny, colorful birds that covers her leg from mid-shin to toes.
I tap her instep with the crop to let her know to lower her leg.
“Other leg. I understand you may not be able to get it as high.”
She can’t. There’s probably six inches difference. I’ll have to keep that in mind when I restrain her and ask her to hold positions. Once I’ve got the cuff buckled on, I stroke her calf, enjoying the silk of her skin. Tiny goosebumps rise under my fingertips. I love how responsive she is.
“Left arm now, good girl.”
She shifts her weight and raises her arm, high and straight, extending her shoulder as though she’s saluting. Even with her sweet compliance, there’s always that touch of sass that makes me smile.
I buckle on her wrist cuffs, then instruct her to crawl over to the web while I move to where I’ve piled several hanks of rope on a rolling cart.
Logan’s color selection is limited: black, red, and, of course, pink.
I’ve ordered some blue cotton rope for Brenna, but it won’t be here until next week.
When I was planning the scene, I liked the mental image of the black rope against Brenna’s skin, so that’s what I’ll bind her with, but Logan’s toy box yielded a surprise treasure: coconut fiber rope. That’s the first hank I pick up.
Returning to stand behind Brenna where she’s still on all fours at the base of the web, I take a moment to inspect her and push the plug more firmly into her ass, which gets me a pleasing whimper. “Stand,” I order. “Inspection position.”
She climbs to her feet shakily but lifts her arms, laces her fingers behind her head, and settles into the position, her shoulders relaxing.
I reward her by pinching her nipples until they’re ruby-red again, before I begin winding the coconut rope around her ribs to make a chest harness.
She twitches when she feels the first bite of the rough rope, but says nothing and holds position, her head high and her cocky grin firmly in place.
I create a simple harness, then wrap the base of each breast to create compression.
Her nipples are as stiff as pegs by the time I’m finished.
Oh, this girl does like the bite. I debate clamps, but decide I’d rather suck her nipples during the scene when she does particularly well with the flogger and leave them unadorned.
Once the harness is done, I pull over a rubber-bottomed step from the chain station in the dry play area.
I’m guessing Logan has Emily stand on it, since there’s a big difference in their heights.
Brenna’s taller than Emily, but I still want to elevate her for the flogging, as well as give her the pleasure of suspension.
“Brenna, honor blindfold. Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”
Her eyes dart to me and I see the faint quirk of nervousness, but she wiggles her shoulders to reassure herself before closing her eyes.
“Good girl. Hands down at your sides.”
She obeys and I take her left hand in mine. Her palm is sweetly damp and I rub my thumb over her knuckles to reassure her.
“Step up. I’ll guide you around, so you’re facing Logan with your back to the web. Then find your balance. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
She lifts her left foot to find the low platform with her toes; once she does, she steps up confidently.
The play of the low light over her colorful skin, the bunch and release of her long thigh muscles as she moves, the proud jut of her breasts in the harness, each image settles deep into my mind, filling some of the fractures uncollaring Amy left behind.
When Brenna’s steady on the step, I walk her around until she’s facing the door.
I lean in and kiss her, nipping her lower lip, before taking both of her hands and lifting them high overhead.
I pull her arms to full extension and attach her cuffs to the web with a heavy duty, double-ended, snap connector.
Once she’s up on the web, her arms won’t be so stretched, but for now, I enjoy the natural bow of her body, running my hands down her arms and sides to cup her hips and press my erection against her belly.
That sassy grin appears. I lean in and nip her lower lip before I whisper, “Tell me that thought.”
“I’m glad this is turning you on, sir.”
“Everything about this is a turn on, bold girl,” I tell her between nips. “Everything about you is a turn on.”
Her lips stretch into a full smile against mine. “Thank you, sir.”
“Ready to fly, pain slut?”
“Yes, sir.”
If her eyes were open, they’d be full of light, all those smudgy shadows gone. I want to see that, even if just for a moment.
“Brenna, open your eyes and look at me.”
She does, her eyes immediately lifting to mine. The light in them fills me, explodes inside my chest. My vision narrows. There’s nothing in the world beyond this. Just her. Just this cool, dim room, where I’m her god, where she’s my goddess, to worship, to hurt, to elevate and let fly.
“Beautiful,” I whisper against her lips. “Thank you, little goddess. Close your eyes and keep them closed for me.”
Those luminous brown eyes close, slowly, dreamily, and she tips her head up just slightly, wanting a kiss, which I give her until the ache in my cock and balls is so fierce that it shoots daggers into my gut. I nip her lips before I let her go and step back to rig her chest harness to the web.