Bound to Submit

Kenna’s tears came harder, but she didn’t plead with him. She deserved this punishment. She wanted it. She needed it.

He moved behind her and said, “Count.”

She did. Through all ten falls of the leather against her ass. Until her skin stung and her pussy throbbed and her face was a wet, puffy-feeling mess.

The paddle dropped to the floor, and then Master Griffin was in front of her again. “Tell me how you are?” he asked, his expression almost as upset as she felt.

“Green, Master. I’m Green.” Because she didn’t want this to stop. Not when there might be more he wanted to do, more he needed her to practice. Even though her failure was eating at her like acid that not even his punishment had neutralized.

All my fault all my fault all my fault.

“Are you sure, Kenna?”

“Green, Sir. I’m sure.”

He dried her face with his hands. “Good girl.”

She smiled at his praise, and she needed it. Because just then, she wasn’t feeling good.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Kenna. And you are free to come as much as you like. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, mentally grasping for the solace that his punishment should’ve given her. That it almost gave her. Why couldn’t she reach it?

He spun her around, and then his cock sank deep into her pussy. He used the ropes as leverage, as if she were on a swing, giving her no choice but to impale herself on his cock again and again and again as he hammered hard and deep. It was incredible and overwhelming and confusing, because her problem was usually coming too easily or too fast or too frequently, but now, suddenly, she hung there on the edge, unable to fall.

He groaned and got thicker inside her, letting her know that he was close. “Come, Kenna. Come on my cock. Show me you feel good. She me I make you feel good.”

It was the words that finally gave her the shove. She came. She came so hard that her vision went fuzzy and her muscles went limp.

She didn’t know what happened next, only that she was on the floor and in Master Griffin’s tight embrace.

And she was absolutely, inconsolably, uncontrollably sobbing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Fuck, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Griffin said over and over, his face against her hair, his hands and arms trying to hold her together.

Because he’d never once—in all the years he’d known her—seen her shatter like this. And he suspected that it was a lot more than some intense form of subspace, though it might be that, too.

“Fuck,” he bit out, the fact that he’d punished her eating at him. The leather paddle wasn’t the worst of the implements he could’ve used, for sure, and he’d given Kenna more strenuous punishments in the past. But his gut told him he’d played this scene all wrong, and that was eating him alive. “I’m sorry, Kenna. I’m so damn sorry.”

She couldn’t answer, because she just cried and cried until she could barely breathe. He couldn’t even get her fully out of the ropes because he didn’t want to let her go to do it.

His phone.

Thank God she’d asked him to take a picture. His phone was still in his back pocket. He fished it out and pecked out a text to Quinton with his thumb: 911 my playroom only you

Coming, shot back a moment later.

Keys worked in the doorknob, and then it opened, and Quinton’s concerned expression dropped further as he shut them in again.

Griffin pointed at the counter. “Scissors and blanket. Now.”

Quinton bolted, grabbing the items and bringing them right to him.

“Cut her out, Quinton. Please. Get her out.” His throat was so thick that his voice sounded like he’d swallowed sandpaper.

Starting on the parts that were away from her skin, Quinton used the powerful industrial scissors to hack apart Griffin’s creation. He didn’t talk. He didn’t ask any questions. He just got her free, and then helped Griffin surround her in the blanket.

“Let me help you move her to the lounge,” he said.

Griffin nodded. Wanting her off this floor and out of this room. Wanting her comfortable and safe.

Master Quinton slid his arms beneath her knees and around her back. “I’ll lift her and then give her back when you’re ready,” he said, probably guessing at how hard it was for Griffin to let another man help console her in this moment.