Paying the Price

Paying the price

(c) 2023, 2024, by P.D. Vile

Story tags: Mf, bdsm, cons

NOTE: This story is

very

different from my usual stories. Many of my regular readers might not like it at all, because of the extreme content.

Yes, there is (sweet, consensual, and very loving) sex between a young woman and a much older man. Two, even. But not much. Instead, there is bdsm. Extreme bdsm, even, in my eyes -- although hardcore bdsm fanatics might disagree on that.

NOTE: Before starting the story, I really must express my gratitude to "e". Dear "e", without you, this story would never have been born. Without your extensive and patient explanations, it would not have been credible. And without your proofreading, it would have been only half as good.

Rest in peace, "e" -- this world never deserved you. I hope you found your peace now.

Present: Cuffed

Everything in me trembles as I do my best to lay still. You stand in the corner, looking at me, as I lay sprawled out on the bed, my arms and legs a cynical imitation of the holy cross, yet about to experience a very unholy act. You stand in the corner, still naked. I try to focus on your beauty, hoping it will take my thoughts away from... from what is about to happen.

You are so gorgeous. So wonderfully beautiful. Your long hair, dyed back with a purple glow at the end, falling naturally around your face, and flowing to your back. Your gorgeous brown eyes, your perky little nose. And your lips, that can form such a wonderful smile that I melted for the first time I saw it, but that are now contorted in a look of concern and pity.

But also your slender body, your creamy white skin, so delicate, so smooth, so flawless -- well, except for your upper legs, where I see the markings of your last punishment, faded, almost but not completely gone. Your breasts, wonderful globes, so firm, so young, slightly bouncing when you move, as if gravity does not have its full effect on them. And between your legs, your smooth shaven mons, and your delicate outer lips, now closed, hiding your wonderful forbidden treasures.

You see me look and try to flash me a reassuring smile. But I can see that you are faking it. Not that you don't mean it. I

know

you mean it. But you can't. You know, know all too well, what I am about to go through. You hate the thought of what will happen to me. But you cannot stop it. So you try to smile at me, try to tell me it will all be all right.

It won't be all right. I know it won't. But I will endure. I have to, for you. You can do it, surely I can do it too.

And once it's done, I know you will be there for me, comfort me, make me feel better.

Click!

Jim closes the fourth cuff, the one that attaches my right wrist to the top right bed post. He checks the rope, to make sure there is no space to move at all. I could have told him. My arms and legs are fully stretched out, I cannot move even an inch.

"Good," he says, and I once more notice how friendly and warm he sounds, that utter contrast to what he intends to do, "that should keep you in place. I know that being stretched out like that feels awkward, but are you okay otherwise? The cuffs don't hurt your wrists and ankles?"

I shake my head, no. And realize, just as I had before, when he had shown me the stuffed handcuffs, how weird this is. The protective layer of cloth on the inside, designed to ensure that they would not hurt, not even when I pulled hard -- why go to such lengths to keep me safe from pain there?

And now the concern for my well-being. The genuine regret that my awkward stretched position cannot be avoided. This is so... so totally different from what I had expected!

I look at him, as he casually walks to the wall-mounted rack, carefully inspecting all his various tools, a finger gliding slowly past each of them. Each one looks more menacing than the other, but none of them seems to be what he wants. His finger slides from left to right, then back.

I look up as I hear you whimper. I see in your face that you were about to say something, but swallow it down just in time. Jim looks up at you as well.

"Good, Christine. I see you understand now. Mister Vile can be grateful."

He turns back to his collection of pain inflicting instruments, but now it seems he has made his choice. Without hesitation, he picks a rope, less than a meter long, looking leathery, and with a nice colored pattern.

"We call this a single tail whip, Mister Vile. Prepare to get to know it very closely for... how many was it, Christine?"

You swallow, and I hear the lump in your throat.

"Twelve, Master Jim."

"Thanks. Good girl. So, Mister Vile, prepare to get to know this whip very closely, twelve times."

Ten weeks before: Meet

April 6, 10:33:32. Chat log started. Private chat between The Vile One and Chris Cross

[The Vile One]

Hey sweetheart!

[Chris Cross]

Oh, hey! You're online early today!

[The Vile One]

Yeah, nothing else to do so I figured, why not give myself some extra me time.

Ha! I bet your "me time" is mainly surfing to your favorite picture sharing sites and browsing them with one hand only?

[The Vile One]

Hey, no fair! I have our private chat app open as well, so that's not all I'm doing.

[Chris Cross]

No reason to feel attacked. What do you think I am doing right now.

[The Vile One]

My guess would be that one of your hands gently massages your sore ass, while the other plays with your juicy clit. Not sure how you are typing tho. Nose? LOL

[Chris Cross]

My ass is not that sore anymore. It wasn't the worst spanking, not even close. And Master only used the paddle this time.

[The Vile One]

I know that Jim is so much better for you than your parents ever were and ever will be, and I also know that you are not yet ready to live on your own.

[The Vile One]

But yet, I have trouble with those punishments. I admire him for taking you in and giving you safety and protection, but I wish you would have found someone safe who doesn't hurt you.

[Chris Cross]

Damnit P.D., we've been over this before. I *want* this. It hurts, but I need that pain, it gets me off.

[The Vile One]

Yes, I know. You told me. But you know that's not normal, right? You have been made that way because of how your parents hurt you. That makes your brain confuse hurting with love. Perhaps you can "unlearn" that?

[Chris Cross]

What if I don't want to change?

[Chris Cross]

Can you drop this please? I don't want to argue with you. <3

[The Vile One]

Yes, sorry. ~hugs Chrissy

So, change of subject. Remember that thing we have so often talked about?

[Chris Cross]

Which one? We have chatted about so many things. Do you mean the roleplay that starts with me sitting in your lap and you reading some of your stories to me?

[The Vile One]

No, not that. I mean the idea... or perhaps fantasy?... of me coming to visit you in Louisiana, so we can actually meet face to face.

[Chris Cross]

~smiles

[The Vile One]

Well, I just heard that I need to be in the Alabama office for two weeks in June. I cannot fly back to Europe for the weekend. But I could fly to Louisiana.

[Chris Cross]

You want to actually meet face to face? You trust me that much?

[Chris Cross]

~giggles. Or perhaps you want me that much? ~blushes

[The Vile One]

Listen, you don't have to. I totally understand if it never was more than just a nice fantasy for you. And I know it's dangerous. So please don't feel bad if your answer is no. I still love you, no matter what.

[Chris Cross]

Oh, no. No, it was real for me too. Is real. I mean, it was of course a fantasy because I didn't think it would ever actually be possible. But if it is, then

[Chris Cross]

Oops I wanted to delete that but hit enter by accident.

[Chris Cross]

I do want it but I have to ask Master first.

[The Vile One]

If Jim says you can't have sex with me, that's okay. That's not why I want to visit you. Of course, I do want it. If you want it. But I would rather just meet you without sex than not meet you at all. If you know what I mean.

[The Vile One]

Heck, I would even rather meet you and not have sex than fuck you and not talk.

[Chris Cross]

I know. <3

[Chris Cross]

You are a very special man, and I really love you. And this is one of the reasons why. Most men are only interested in me because they know I'm easy.

[The Vile One]

Don't say that of yourself, sweetheart. I don't think it is true. You may appear easy to some because you enjoy sex, but you would never fuck an asshole. You still make your own choices.

[Chris Cross]

And I would definitely pick you!

[Chris Cross]

And Master can tell me not to, but he never would, I told him about you and he understands why I like you.

[Chris Cross]

But I cannot invite anyone into our home without his permission. And I also cannot just go off and go to a hotel.

[The Vile One]

~nods. I understand. For your safety.

[Chris Cross]

And his. Society frowns upon what we are doing. People will not believe that I willingly chose him as my owner, because of the age difference. If people find out that he is my dom, that we fuck, that he allows me to have sex with his friends, he will be viewed as a monster.

[The Vile One]

And he'd lose his job and family, and you might not be able to stay with him. Yes, I understand.

[The Vile One]

And that would be terrible for both of you. Most of all for you.

[Chris Cross]

I will ask him when he's back home.

[Chris Cross]

~snuggles into your lap

[Chris Cross]

Will you now read me a story? Do you have a new one?

[The Vile One]

~rearranges something in his pants

[Chris Cross]

Oooh, do you want me to take care of that? I can play with it while you are reading!

[The Vile One]

~unzips

[The Vile One]

Let me find the story that I am currently working on.

April 6, 10:48:02. Switched to voice chat. Chat log ended

Present: Hard

I shudder as Jim lovingly strokes the whip in his hands, that innocent looking leather strip. The instrument that is about to inflict intense pain upon me. He caresses the leather, turns it a few times, adoring the bright colors of the abstract patterns imprinted on it, as if he sees it for the first time.

I hear a wet noise coming from the corner where you are. I see that, despite how bad you feel for me, you cannot help getting aroused by it. Your hand is between your legs, rubbing your young pussy.

Jim hears it too. He turns his head towards you. I see his face changes to a disapproving frown.

You see it, startle, and instantly withdraw your hand.

Jim's voice suddenly sounds cold again, cold as ice.

"That will be thirteen then. You are not making this any easier for your friend, my lovely little pain slut."

"I am sorry, Master," you say meekly.

I hate hearing your voice go weak like that. I am so much more in love with the very brave and strong young woman inside. The girl that knows what she wants and is not afraid to make herself heard -- but that can quickly disappear, morph into a scared little rabbit, when Jim shows his stern side. But I know you need his strict hand, at least now, perhaps forever.

Jim returns his attention to me. His voice instantly regains the warmth and friendliness it had before.

"P.D., I know that this is all new to you. Most subs grow into it and have seen whips before. You haven't. So my first stroke will not be on you. That, of course, means it doesn't count."

He chuckles, and his face shows a hint of the coldness that Jim has so far only used towards Christine. But it instantly disappears again, to make place for his usual warm smile.

"This is so you can get used to the sound. Watch that light switch over there."

Despite, or perhaps because of, my ever increasing fear, I try to make a joke.

"Why punish that poor light switch, it did noth..."

CRACK!!!!!!!

The sound is incredibly loud and totally unexpected. It is as if I hear it even before I see the little flick of Jim's wrist that put the whip in motion. But that is of course impossible.

"You flinched. Your whole body shook."

He states it fully matter-of-factly. I have no idea if it is a reprimand or a compliment, so I don't know how to respond.

"Christine, dear, would you please fetch the restraints?"

Restraints? Are those cuffs not enough yet?

"You see, P.D.," Jim resumes, as Christine walks out the basement door, "there is a reason I often practice with the whip."

He points at a wall-mounted lamp. It is on. I was sure it was off before.

CRACK!!!

And it is off again. His whip apparently touched the light switch just enough to flick it, without damaging it.

"Countless hours of practice, to control exactly where the tail goes. But all that goes to waste when you make unexpected movements. Christine knows to lay still, at least until after the impact. With you, I must make sure."

You return, holding two wide textile bands, and hand them to Jim.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Oh, while I tie him up, can you do something about that limp dick?"

My dick? Limp? I have not even thought about my dick in the last minutes, I am way too distracted by everything going on. Even with your gorgeous naked body in front of me, there is nothing sexual in this situation.

Jim pulls one band over my knees, pulls it down hard, then attaches it somewhere below the bed.

"A master inflicts pain on his sub for their sexual enjoyment," he meanwhile explains, in a tone of voice that sounds as if he is reading a Wikipedia page out loud, "and I am used to my subs getting excited even before the punishment starts. I don't blame you, in this rather unique situation. But I do hope that my adoptee can fix that."

You certainly do what you can. You make sure to stand where I can see all of you. This is the closest you have been since I undressed you. Your beautiful body, that I thus far only knew from pictures and clips you shared. You are much younger than me. But that doesn't matter, because you are so very special to me. That makes you more gorgeous than anyone else can ever be.

And then your hand touches my dick. I have so long dreamed to be touched there, and now it comes true. With you, a young woman that I am totally in love with. Were it not for Jim pulling the band even tighter on my knees, my arms and legs splayed out and fixed in place by handcuffs, and all the menacing instruments of torture in my field of vision, I probably would start to cum at your first touch already. Now, my dick barely responds.

But you don't seem to mind. You don't give up. You hold it firmly, pull back my foreskin, then lower your head, open your mouth, and just take me in.

Electric shocks jolt through my body, as my dick is enclosed in your warmth, your cozy, wet, and soft mouth. I feel your tongue playing with my pisshole, feel your lips rubbing my now hardening shaft as you bob your head up and down, get a sense of incredible tightness as you suck your mouth vacuum.

I open my eyes as I feel the second textile band being wrapped over my abdomen. I see Jim look down at where my inflating dick disappears in your mouth, then look up at me and smile.

"She gives good head, right?"

I can only nod, as a groan escapes my mouth. For one brief second, I forget why I am here, on this bed. Then Jim pulls the band tighter, and I remember. Part of my mind shivers in fear of what is about to come. The other part is in pure bliss of the feelings you give me. My brain is almost melting. How can I feel so much pleasure when I'm about to go through a hell of pain? How can I be anxious and afraid when experiencing this wonderful feeling?

It feels like my brain is about to explode. But then you lift your head off of my now throbbing hard dick. Only a string of saliva now connects your mouth to my purple dickhead. You smile at me, then open up again, lower your face, until the tip of my now fully extended rod touches the back of your throat. But you don't stop. You push with more force, and I feel how your esophagus hugs the tip of my dick, like a hand squeezed into a too small glove. You take it all the way, and even manage to briefly lick my balls, then come back up and inhale deeply.

"That will be quite enough. I want him hard, not spent."

Jim nods in the direction of the corner where you were before, and you meekly step back and lean against the wall. Reading in your eyes, I can see that you want to continue as much as I want you to.

Eight weeks ago: Price

Zoom... ding-dong... bzzzt

Zoom... ding-dong... bzzzt

Zoom... ding-

"Hello, P.D. Vile here. Who's this?"

"Good afternoon, Mister Vile. That was very brave of you, to share your phone number."

"Brave? Share? Oh, shit! You must be Jim, Christine's master."

"Brave. Or perhaps stupid?"

"I don't know. I trust Christine. Yes, I trust her so much that I gave her my number, when she told me you want to speak to me. Was that a mistake? Was it stupid, and not just brave?"

"Mistake? Perhaps, I don't know yet. But no, not stupid. She can indeed be trusted. I am indeed Jim, or, as she calls me: Master. But you already know that. She must really like you. This is the first time ever she wants to meet a chat contact."

"... Really? Wow, I am honored. But I don't think you call me to tell me this."

"No. She asked my permission to meet you. Either at our home, or in a hotel. I need to ask you a question first."

"Okay?"

"Mister Vile, what price are you willing to pay to fuck Christine?"

(A long silence)

"I am very sorry Jim. There clearly is a misunderstanding. After all that Christine has told me about you, I had not taken you for one to whore her out for a quick cash grab! You disappoint me!"

(A chuckle)

"I did not say anything about money, Mister Vile."

"And I also thought she knew that I don't want to meet because I want to fuck her.... Wait, what? Not money? But you said..."

"But you do, right? You do want to fuck her."

"Well..."

"Be honest, P.D. No answer can upset me. But a lie will certainly tell me that I cannot trust you with Christine."

"I will be honest. I was searching for the right words. Yes, I do want that. I do want to have sex with her. But only when she wants it. Not because I ask her. Not because you tell her to. She must want it."

"Hmmm. That was what I expected to hear, based on what she told me about you. But you also know, as well as I do, that she does want to have sex with you. And that's why you want to come."

"No. It is not."

"I am listening."

"I will not deny it is on my mind. It... makes the deal even sweeter, so to say. But it is not why I asked if I could meet her. It is... She and I chat a lot. About a lot. Sometimes very personal. I know all about her youth, her abusive parents, and about how you risked everything to save her and take her in. And I told her all about my life. I like her more with every chat, grew more and more fond of her, and one day discovered I am simply in love. An impossible love, but it still grew the more we chatted. She is such a remarkable girl, such inner strength, such resilience after..."

(A sob)

(Silence)

"Sorry. But that is my reason. I love her. I want to meet her, face to face, get to know her. And I would still want that if she said no sex."