The Test Run Ch 02

The room is quiet as I kneel in the corner by the door, waiting for Sir to come in. My breath, heartbeat, and the soft hum of the air conditioner are the only sounds I can hear. I'm facing the room from my corner, but I keep my eyes trained on the floor beneath me.

I'm calmer than the first time I was here, but as time drags on and my knees start to hurt, I begin to get nervous and worry. How long will Sir leave me kneeling here? Did he forget he told me to be in here by 4? That's unlikely, considering I stayed with him last night just so I would be sure to be here on time... Unease clenches in my stomach, but after a few minutes, I hear footsteps coming. The uneasiness vanishes, leaving nervousness in its place.

"Up," Sir commands briskly as he breezes into the room, not even glancing at me. The door closes behind him and I scramble to my feet, cringing as I force my legs to straighten.

"Knees hurt?" Sir asks, and I murmur an affirmative answer, struggling to keep my eyes on the floor. I see him nod curtly in my peripheral vision. "That's what I thought. I may require you to do things that making kneeling for a long period of time essential. You're to spend fifteen minutes every morning and every night kneeling from now on. When you're comfortable with that, we'll bump it up to 30. Understood, slut?"

"Yes, Sir," I say, and I watch him surreptitiously from under my lashes as he checks the leather restraints on a St. Andrew's cross. I quickly lower my eyes as he turns to go to the metal cabinet, retrieving the keys from his pocket. I stand quietly as he opens the door and starts taking things out, but curiosity gets the best of me and I peek up again. As my eyes meet his, I feel my stomach drop and the blush of shame creeping into my cheeks as I flick my gaze back down.

"Oh, there's no use for that now," he says, his tone deceptively soft and seething with irritation. After a moment, I hear him walk over to me and my lip starts to tremble as my muscles tense, waiting for some kind of punishment. His hand flashes out and gently turns my face up to look at him, and he strokes my cheek roughly where my blood has pooled. "I was just going to strap you to that cross over there to get you used to being so restrained, but you've given me a wonderful idea." His hand leaves my face and he walks around me, smacking my ass hard with his bare hand, causing me to yelp in surprise.

As he circles back in front of me, he holds up two objects for me to view.

"Ball gag," he explains, lifting what appears to be a strip of leather with a sizable red ball in the middle and buckles at the ends. "And a blindfold." He grins deviously at the look on my face as he holds up a thick band of leather that tapers to strings at the ends. I swallow, my throat constricting painfully.

"You won't be able to move, speak, or see," he continues, watching my face as he talks, "which means you won't be able to say a safe word. Instead, you're going to hold this in your hand." He holds up a little blue bouncy ball that I hadn't noticed. "If you want me to stop, you drop this, understand?"

Not trusting my voice, I just nod, my eyes wide with anxiety. A slow, malicious grin spreads across his face as he steps closer to me and fists his hand into my hair at the base of my skull. He uses his grip to lead me over to the cross against the back wall.

Setting the objects in his hands down on the floor, he looks at me, his arms crossed and a thoughtful look on his face. His torso and feet are bare, his strong shoulders appetizingly taut. My eyes travel back up to his face to find him watching me, his expression hard but with a slightly smug undertone.

"If you're done fucking me with your eyes, slut, look back down at the damn floor," he growls. I do so instantly, blushing furiously as my hair falls in my face. "But before we get to the fun stuff..."

He takes a deliberate step toward me, his figure imposing and threatening. The muscles between my thighs clench with desire, and I resist the urge to bite my lip.

Using a finger to tilt my head up, his cold gaze meets my excited and timid one. A slight scowl mars his face, not far from mine. "You broke a rule. You lifted your eyes from the floor—without permission. As a result, you made direct eye contact—without permission. As punishment..." he trails off and moves closer to me so our chests are barely brushing against each other. He runs a hand down my chest, lifting my left breast and kneading it slowly. My pulse quickens and my veins heat, but his cold eyes are still fixed to mine and the look in them is daring me to moan or squirm without permission. I struggle to contain myself, even as I feel my arousal pooling between my thighs.

"As punishment," he continues after a moment, relentlessly teasing my nipple with his fingers, "you are not allowed to cum."

I stare at him, feeling my jaw go slack and my eyes round out with horror.

"I'm glad you appreciate the severity of the punishment, slut," he says. His hand glides down my side, thankfully leaving my breast alone, but then, without warning, he reaches between my thighs and pets my sex. My inhale is a sharp gasp, and in response, he starts rubbing his thumb slowly around my clit.

I struggle not to pull away, not to grind against his thumb, not to make a noise, and not to come apart. I feel the orgasm building, creeping up my thighs, and then Sir pulls his hand away.

I moan, a wordless plea, my clit throbbing and pulsing hungrily. My hips desperately want to move, to try and find friction, but Sir has me by the hips.

"No, slut," he growls emphatically, pressing me back against the leather of the cross and holding me there at arm's length. "Why am I doing this?" he demands.

"Because I broke the rules," I respond, my voice high-pitched.

"Good girl. Do you think you deserve this?" he asks, and he sounds genuinely interested in the answer, not in hearing what he wants to hear.

I think about it for a moment as best as I can while the tension between my legs slowly dulls. "Yes, Sir," I say finally, opening my eyes. I hadn't realized I had closed them.

He seems satisfied and releases me, bending to retrieve the blindfold and a hair clip. "Step forward," he commands, and on shaky legs, I obediently step closer to him, drinking him in hungrily with my eyes. He instructs me to lift my hair and he takes it in his hands, twisting it quickly and efficiently before clipping it on top of my head. He places the blindfold over my eyes and ties it snugly. The world goes dark, but my other senses light up.

I hear him take a step back from me, presumably to observe his work thus far. There's the sound of more shuffling, and then he says, "Open your mouth."

His voice reaches me like a light in the darkness, and I quickly obey. I feel him place what I deduce is the ball part of the ball gag in my mouth, and it pushes my jaw open as wide as it will go. The ball is clamped between my teeth, and I hear Sir's footsteps as he walks behind me to do the buckles. It's tight enough to not budge.

There's gentle pressure on my shoulders, guiding me back until I feel the leather of the cross behind me.

"Arms up," Sir instructs, and I obey. He grabs my right arm first and pushes it against the leather, straightening my arm. He holds it there as he fastens my wrist to it, then does the same with my other arm. I allow my fingers to curl in towards my palms, and relax in my bondage, pulling slightly and savoring the feeling.

My legs are next, and I feel him tap the inside of my ankles, indicating that I should spread my legs. I do, and as he fastens one of my ankles, pushing my heel against the cross, I feel excitement as well as a brief spike of fear shoot through me. He finishes his work quickly and silently until I'm bound to the cross, immobile, blind, and voiceless.

I'm extremely aware of my body splayed out before him, and the desire to close my legs hits me. I pull on my bindings, but I'm securely tied, and a thrill spikes through my abdomen as the throbbing between my thighs starts up again. I groan softly, wishing I could see and move.

Sir's voice brings me out of my head. "Good girl. You look delicious tied up like that."

I moan in response, but I feel him pressing the little bouncy ball into my left hand. "Remember to let go of that if you need to."

I try to answer him, but it comes out muffled and unintelligible, and my tongue presses against the ball in my mouth. It tastes weird, and it's cool and hard against my tongue's probing.

When Sir chuckles softly at me, I'm surprised by how close he sounds. I strain to listen for a sign of what he's doing, of what's going to happen, but I hear nothing. I realize suddenly how tight my restraints are, how there's no way in hell I'd be able to get out of these without Sir's help. My breathing hitches and my heart speeds up as fear creeps through my veins. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and I'm powerless to stop him.

I squeeze the ball in my palm as though my life depended on it, allowing it to provide some comfort as I wait for the play to start.

It comes in the form of his hands. I jump slightly when he places them on my wrists and runs them slowly and lightly down my arms. His touch feels good and relaxes me, and I calm down as he trails them along my shoulders, traces my collar bone with his fingertips, and then down to my breasts, squeezing them softly. I moan quietly, bending my back as much as I can, pushing them into his palms. He growls softly in his throat, and my muscles clench between my hips as my sex gives a particularly noticeable throb. I feel his lips on my throat, feel them being parted by his tongue as he runs it across my flesh before biting me roughly, sucking lightly on the skin clamped between his teeth. I groan and push my body out, wanting more, and getting it. He trails bites down to my collarbone and then to one of my nipples, pulling at it with his teeth and teasing it with his tongue as his hand does the same to the other.

His touch leaves me briefly and I feel something cold and small being trailed between my breasts. Then I feel the bite of the clamp on my nipple, and I'm faced with a creeping ache that's at once intense and vaguely dull. I whimper as Sir attaches one to my other nipple.

"Shh," he soothes in a rough voice. "I want you hurting."

I groan in response, longing to press my thighs together against my aching clit. Sir runs his hands down my belly, over my hips, and to the insides of my thighs. I moan, squirming, and he runs his palms firmly down the insides of my thighs and back up, hitting nerves that made me wetter and more desperate for him to touch me.

As if he could read my mind, Sir runs a finger over my clit and I push my hips toward him gratefully. He moves his thumb slowly over me, rhythmically building up my pleasure. I can feel the orgasm coming on me, so close, and I'm moaning the word 'Sir,' hoping he's forgotten his promise to not let me cum, thinking—as my thigh muscles tighten and I'm straining against the bondage—that there's no way he would bring me so close...

My hopes are shattered painfully as Sir abruptly pulls his hand away, leaving me completely devoid of his touch, writhing in agony as my sex and nipples throb painfully as the orgasm fades away from my reach. I cry out in frustration, feeling Sir's eyes on me as I twist.

But I don't let go of the ball in my hand. I don't want this to end.

I give up, panting and laying limp and whimpering on the cross, and I hear Sir's soft footsteps moving away from me. I quiet my breathing, straining to listen, curious when I hear him come back.

And then I feel the crack of the cane against my belly. I yelp, caught off guard, and Sir strikes me again as the sting begins. I moan, and Sir delivers three more strokes before teasing my clit with his thumb again.

I moan and struggle, and Sir takes me even closer to the brink before he stops, pulling away to watch me writhe before picking up the cane and starting the cycle again. I revel in it, drown in it, and even when tears start pricking my eyes and get caught in the blindfold as Sir caresses my clit with his thumb, I hold tight to the little bouncy ball in my hand.

After Sir pulls away this time, leaving me begging and crying and impossibly turned on, I feel him start undoing the restraints on my ankles. Then, with no preamble, he unclips my nipples at the same time. Pain floods through me and I suck in a sharp breath, moaning.

I hear the sound of Sir's jeans unzipping and then the tearing of a foil packet.

"I'm going to fuck you," he growls, and I feel his hands on my hips. "You are not allowed to cum. This is for me, and it will be quick and hard."

And before I can register his words, he's holding me up, his fingers digging into the underside of my thighs. "Wrap your legs around me," he orders, and I do, pulling him close. He adjusts his grip, moving his hands to my ass, and then he plunges himself into me.

I moan loudly as he buries himself in me completely, loving the fullness of him, the feeling of him pulling out and slamming roughly into me again, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass as he forces himself inside me again and again. In spite of his orders, I feel an orgasm building in me, and I moan loudly, arching my back and pressing against him. Just as I feel like there's no stopping my orgasm, Sir growls low in his chest and thrusts into me one last time, getting his release.

I whimper as he pulls out of me, but he doesn't say anything. I hear him moving around, putting things away after zipping his jeans back up. Five minutes go by before he comes over to me and reaches behind my head, undoing the blindfold and tucking it in his pocket. I blink, grateful that Sir dimmed the lights before taking it off. He holds my gaze as he undoes the gag, and I wince a bit as I flex my jaw. Sir quickly kisses my nose and then moves to free my arms, and I reluctantly let him take my bouncy ball away from me.

I try to take a step forward but stumble, Sir catching me before I hit the floor. My body is trembling and weak, and he picks me up and sits us down on the couch, holding me snugly in his lap.

"Here," he murmurs, reaching beside him and passing me a bottle of water and a small bag of trail mix. He must have set this out while I was still blindfolded.

"Thank you, Sir," I say, smiling at him, and he looks down at me in amusement.

"You did well, again," he tells me after a moment. I nod gratefully, stifling a yawn before taking a few sips of water.

As I open the trail mix, a thought comes to me, and I look at him anxiously. "When will you let me cum, Sir?"

His eyes darken. "You broke the rules. I'll let you cum when I see fit. Tomorrow, perhaps."

Shocked, I stare at him and a thousand choice words run through my head, but I hold my tongue. He's right; I deserve this. "Yes, Sir," I say after a moment, then offer a tentative smile.

He unclips my hair and combs through it gently with his fingers. "Good girl."