Chapter 8 #4
“Own it, Ray,” she said under her breath, the words not for him. A deep inhalation lifted her chest as she turned to him. “I—I’d like the erotic version.”
Self-awareness and honesty in a partner were traits he’d learned to cherish. And were some of the reasons he was so drawn to Ray.
“Very good.” He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “I’ll try to keep the pain around a five—and we’ll test where that is for you.” Now for the more difficult decision for her.
“I’d prefer to restrain your arms. If it hurts, you’d most likely use your hands to cover your ass, and a wooden paddle can break fingers.”
She took a step away from him, her color fading.
“Ray.” He made his tone stern, and her gaze shot to his face. He spoke slowly enough the words would get through her fears. “The dungeon monitors will intervene if you use the club safeword, which is red. And you will be able to easily escape any binding I use. Oui?”
“Oh.” Her hands unclenched. “Yes. Right. Okay.”
More forward progress. Excellent. “Then, we begin. Disrobe, please.”
Her appalled expression almost…almost made him laugh. He took a step back, crossed his arms over his chest. And waited.
Simon, the Master who’d started him off on the road to being a Dom, said silence and patience were excellent tools. His words had proven to be right.
Ray looked at him. Looked down. She wanted to obey; he could see it. And more. It took a significant amount of trust for her to bare her body and hand over control to him.
Earning such trust was a precious gift.
She chewed on her lip, looked at him, and dropped her gaze again. Her muscles relaxed.
There we go.
Slowly, she bent to remove her red shoes, which gave him a sweet glimpse of her round ass. The man’s white shirt really was an inspired clothing choice.
She rolled down the fishnet stockings. Wiggled off the thong. And finally shrugged out of the shirt and red bra.
He’d have enjoyed stripping her himself even more, but acquiescing to his order, removing her clothing, baring her body, would shift her into the proper headspace—the one where she acknowledged that for the next span of time, her body was under his command.
Ray felt his gaze on her body as she dropped her bra to the floor, and she was oh-so-naked. Why was it so difficult to keep from covering her breasts and pussy?
It wasn’t body shame—not entirely. She had an okay body. Some cellulite on her thighs, sure. A roundness to her tummy. All in all, it was a pretty good body.
It just wasn’t supposed to be naked. Not out where anyone near the thankfully-almost-secluded corner area could see her.
So could Drake.
Firming her jaw, she straightened, lowered her arms, and stared across the room. Waiting. There was a flutter in her chest. If he said something insulting, it would really hurt.
Silence.
Unable to bear it, she looked at him.
He had a faint smile as he met her eyes. “Tu es si belle.”
Belle. Even she knew that belle meant pretty or beautiful or something good. A smile pulled at her lips.
“And you have given me permission to touch.”
Her whole lower half clenched. Whyever had she said she wanted an erotic scene?
But how could she not? She’d dreamed of how he’d touched her previously. Dreamed of him taking it further. Dreamed of his voice. This was what she wanted. Own it, Ray.
He curled his fingers around her nape and kissed her. His lips were firm, coaxing her to respond. When she did, he nibbled on her jaw, then ran both hands down her arms. He cupped her breasts, weighing them, his thumbs stroking lightly. “I do love your breasts.”
The feeling of his callused palms on her bare skin gave her goosebumps.
He turned her to face the spanking stand and with his shoe, separated the heavy wooden blocks, pushing them a couple of feet apart. “Kneel, please.”
Carefully, she set a knee on each tall padded block—and felt air touching her widely spread private parts. Instinctively, she tried to pull her legs together…and the blocks wobbled under her weight.
And Drake chuckled. “If you don’t want to fall, chérie, you must stay still.”
The blocks would tip over if she wasn’t careful. Was that the point? Another kind of torture. “This is plain mean.”
“This spanking barrel with the knee blocks was designed with discipline in mind. It’s one of my favorites.”
Wait, what? “D-discipline?”
“It is what happens to submissives when they’ve been bad. Or teaching control. I enjoy teaching…and even disciplining if needed.”
When a shiver of anticipation and longing ran through her, he made a satisfied sound low in his throat.
“For now, you will be a good girl.” With a firm hand in the middle of her back, he bent her forward over the curved bench. The padding was cold against her skin as her upper torso tipped downward leaving her ass high in the air.
Only, unlike Casper’s position, her legs were spread wide apart. Unfair—why had she gotten stuck with a man-spread?
“Easy now.” Drake ran his hand over her butt, massaging her cheeks, teasing the crack. When he began lightly slapping each inch of her buttocks, she jumped.
Right, right, Jasira said to warm up the skin. That was what he was doing.
Only each flurry of swats was followed by his hand stroking downward, over the backs of her thighs. And inward. When his knuckles brushed her clean-shaven pussy lips, she squeaked, jerked, and the knee blocks rocked precariously.
His next swat held a slight sting. His voice was softer, deeper. “Stay still, Aralia.”
Don’t move, don’t move.
He repeated the same actions, touching her pussy, stroking over her, so, so intimately. And she could tell from increasingly slick slide of his fingers she was growing wet.
“Very nice. We’ll have some fun, won’t we?” The French-accented voice held such warm approval, her embarrassment melted away.
After stroking her back, he put Velcro cuffs on her wrists and clipped the right one to an anchor near the floor. She could feel all the muscles in her body tense.
He added a chain between the left cuff and the anchor. “There now. If you need to, you can use your teeth to undo this cuff.”
She pulled her hand up toward her mouth. Yes, he’d left enough chain. Once she ripped the Velcro open with her teeth, she could unfasten her right cuff. Her breathing slowed. Okay. Okay then.
“Panicking and trying to get free will be forgiven…for now.” His jaw was stern…his eyes laughing. “Trying to escape for fun, such behavior will earn extra swats.”
It sounded too much like a dare. Unable to resist, she pulled on the restraints. Tugged harder.
“Yes, ma douce, you are bound and quite nicely open for my attentions.” He touched her again, grazing over her clit, and the shocking pleasure made her gasp. “We will start with paddle number one.”
He withdrew to get a paddle, and her mind grew frantic. The sounds of the dungeon somehow grew louder…as did her thoughts. Would she be able to sit down for crafting tomorrow?
What is Master Drake thinking about me?
Is my butt as far up in the air as I think it is?
She glared at the floor. Someone must spend a lot of time cleaning it. Why is Master Drake taking so long? Does he have—
“And this adorable ass is right where I want it.” A second later, there was the sound: Slap. The impact and right afterward, the sting.
She was speechless. He’d…he’d spanked her. No one had ever mentioned the rush of humiliation.
“Ray, give me a pain number. One is almost nothing, ten is unbearable.”
It felt as if her whole body was flushed red—but the pain hadn’t been bad. “Um, a three, maybe?”
“What else? Stinging, burning, thudding. Pleasurable. Irritating?” Even as he spoke, he was touching her, rubbing the sting away. His fingers slid between her legs but didn’t touch where she wanted to be touched.
Dammit.
Her clit felt swollen. Demanding to be rubbed.
He cleared his throat.
Oh, yes, she was supposed to be evaluating the paddle. “It stings a bit. I’m…not sure.”
“All right. We’ll keep going, and if you can’t decide which ones you like, we’ll repeat the cycle as many times as we need to.”
Her eyes went wide. Oh, no. No, no, no.
But the sting wasn’t bad, and somehow her whole body was just waiting for him to touch her. Her skin felt as sensitive as if it’d been sanded down, ready for the primer.
He hit her with paddle two, hard enough there was a decided sting followed by a low ache.
I like this. No, no, I don’t.
As she gave her evaluation, he played with her. He even lifted her torso off the barrel so he could tease her breasts. Now they throbbed too.
Paddle three was skinny and heavy, and her eyes filled with tears after two swats.
“Talk to me, chérie. Do you need to stop?” His hand stroked down her back and over her stinging bottom. Comforting and yet…arousing.
I can’t stop yet; I want to see what this is about. Like…there’s something I’m not quite reaching. “No, I…I’m good.”
“Then breathe through it. Take deep slow breaths through your nose, exhale through your mouth.”
As she did, the pain…changed, and somehow sent all the blood to her groin. To where Drake was sliding a light finger over her clit, circling the sides until she wiggled to get him to touch the very top. Only she’d moved enough to make the blocks under her knees tip.
“Eeks!” She froze.
The bastard laughed—and slid a finger up inside her.
The rush of pleasure swamped her. “Ooooh!”
Paddle number four was wide and round. One cheek and then the other. The stinging turned to a sweet burn.
Gods, she was being tenderized like a hammered steak heading for the grill. Do steaks get all excited about the hammer?
Or maybe the one beating on them?
“Now number five.” This paddle was small, like an artistic version of a wooden spoon. The curved portion made a bulls-eye circle of burn. And the sadist swatted her again and again. Her whole backside felt seared.
She pulled on the restraints, needing to cover her butt from the abuse.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as he massaged the pain in, and then destroyed her by playing with her clit.