He'd come into the bathroom, flipped the water off, and pulled me from the shower before I'd even had a chance to realize he was there. He dragged me into the room by my hair, ignoring how water trailed behind us. He took me from that tiled room back to the bedroom no matter how I sputtered and squeaked about the cold, using a swat to keep me moving when I fought.
He used his leverage to push my face into the bed as his hand rained the heavy slaps down on my naked ass.
I struggled and squealed with each blow. Trying to overcome the pain enough to fight the grip that held me exactly where he wanted was pointless. His fingers sat tangled deep in my thick strands. No matter how my torso twisted, that grip wouldn't yield.
The pace of the spanking ensured that I had no time to put together thoughts; their shambled pieces shattered with each burning swat that he rained down on me.
He knew it.
He didn't want me thinking. He wanted me to obey.
As my chest heaved with each breath, he gave me a moment. One only to sit in that burning misery before his voice gave a singular command. "Hands."
There was less than a second to decide. Was I going to play his game? Or did I want to go back to my shower? If I said no, he'd let me up and I could continue my soapy dreams. But then I wouldn't experience whatever it was he had planned.
I shivered; my hands crossed against my lower back, palms up.
My heart thundered in my ears when I felt the first loops tighten around one, then the other around my wrists and forearms. The ropes locked them in place, braced up the forearm and around the wrist. I thought he'd stop there.
Instead, he pressed them higher against my back until my elbows were out like featherless wings. The rope he tied them to pulled up my spine; he looped it around my neck and set the knot so that I could feel the barest pressure from my arms. The message was clear. They stayed or I suffered.
"Kneel, kitten."
The command whispered against my ear made me flinch. He'd hardly touched me, but the darkness to his tone set my heart beating faster as I registered the pet name he'd crowned me with. There wasn't going to be mercy tonight. This was not Anthony. This was Zeke.
Anthony loved me. Zeke consumed me.
That deeper tone always tightened my chest, set my heart thundering like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. The law sat heavy as the hands bound at my back. Obey or suffer. The more I fought, the deeper he'd force me to sink.
Whatever happened would happen; whether I fought him or not he'd have his satisfaction.
I sank from the bed to my knees, staring at the tiling as I felt the lump in my throat grow. He didn't leave me waiting, pulling out the thick leather collar that I feared and loved in one. But he didn't put it on my neck.
"Open."
When my lips parted, he set it between them. I closed, using my lips to avoid any teeth marks in that band.
His foot nudged my knees, pushing them wider until I spread as far as I could manage. He leaned down, lifting my chin so that I stared into his eyes. They were smoldering with lust at my helplessness, but far from kind.
He smirked at whatever he saw in mine as he ordered, "Stay."
And then he stepped around me, leaving me there, facing the bed with my collar in my mouth with my knees spread wide, just dripping the lingering water from my shower. The fan spun, brushing me with its cool air and making my skin raise goose flesh. Untouched, I felt all the more sensitive to the world around me as my body anticipated what would come next.
I could hear him open the dresser drawer, and then the closet.
What will he choose this time? The clamps? The cane? Or will it be the crop or leash? Pain or humiliation... what's he planning? My mind wandered to our last session; he'd used the binder clips to decorate the outline of my breasts and then whipped me until they'd been pulled off by the twisting dance of my body.
The session before that, he'd tied in the ring gag and used me as nothing but a hole for his pleasure. I gagged on his cock each thrust until he finally held me deep with no way to back off. Even as tears leaked from my eyes, he held down on him, and then he'd used the wand on my pussy until I passed out from my orgasms, in a mess of fluids on the bed.
I could feel the trails of water down my skin cooling, fading away as I waited there on my knees.
It was a love-hate relationship with the things he tore out from me. I hated the pain, the humiliation he worked me through. How they tore at my carefully concocted shell of safety. It was like being stripped to my soul and forced to wear it in all its depravity before him.
But that place of quiet inside my own head, the focus, and the small pleasure derived from his smile were candles in the darkness. His words of praise and the care he took to rebuild me each time soothed the pain away. I was addicted to how, in my hollowed-out state, I could feel that warmth in his smile and the two simple words he made me crave with intensity.
The drop of the black gym bag beside my legs made me jump.
Realizing my knees had crept slightly inward, I pushed them back out as my eyes flicked up to his frown. What felt like a leather tongue skimmed over the curve of my ass, down the length of my thigh, then slapped twice against my inner thighs. I winced and forced them wider still under his gaze.
Fuck. The look in his eyes told me I'd earned a punishment for my lack of attention. But the worst part was I knew he wouldn't let me take it right away. No, he'd work me over first and then use the punishment to drive home his point.
Tapping along that delicate flesh, he flicked it as he pleased to create red marks. If I moved, the next came harder. Quickly I learned to subsist with only soft whimpers and sharp intakes of air.
From my knees to an inch below my sex, that crop turned my thighs a dusted pink. My flesh jumped under each impact; those breaths came in raw sucked breaths. Not once, though, did my thighs dare move from their place even when he tormented places that were already raw.
When my thighs had been painted, he tapped it up over my torso to my breasts. There he tormented not only the pale globes but the peaked nipples with licks.
The drool leaked from the corner of my mouth; I didn't have words to beg with that collar in my mouth nor did I dare let it fall. So my deep breaths, my whines of discomfort, and the twitch of my body reacting to those stinging slaps begged for me. But on my chest I felt it with such intensity; my hands tugged on my bonds even as I tried to be still.
