Dark Control (Dark Dominance 1)

I shook my head.

“Answer me properly. I know he’s taught you that.”

“No, Sir,” I said, trying to hold my voice steady even as I waited for the next stroke to fall. “I don’t want him to stop.”

Devin rose to his feet, pumping his now-massive cock. “Have at her, man. She doesn’t want you to stop.”

The next stroke brought a scream from my throat. Pain. Evil. Fire. Devin had left, gone to stick that cock somewhere, but I still felt the squirming, uneasy threat of his exposed erection on top of the blistering pain on my ass. Fort gave me two final strokes, spacing them out so I had time to beg and whimper in between.

“Rest a moment,” he said when that was finished.

I went limp, letting my body align to the curved bench, letting it hold me now that my muscles had turned to a quivering mess of overstimulation. My ass smarted, red hot with pain, and the butt plug reminded me there was more to come. When he unbound me and helped me stand, I reached to soothe my ass, but he wouldn’t let me. When he offered his arms, I fell into them, burying my face against his chest. His hands roved over me, tracing my uniform’s stark lines, pinching my nipples.

“I’d ask if you’re having fun, but…” His voice trailed off, replaced with a low hum of satisfaction. “Look at me.”

I raised my eyes. His carnal regard made all the pain fade away, or at least relax into something more bearable. I stared, trying to imprint those deep hazel recesses on my soul. As suddenly as he asked for me to look at him, he turned away, leading me toward the opposite side of The Gallery. He relieved me of the thick plug in my ass, then led me toward a high, wide, iron bondage arch cemented into the floor.

There were a variety of other racks and bondage points in this section of The Gallery. Ten or so feet away, a woman writhed on a web-like chain structure as her Dominant tortured her with a crop. Just across from us, in my direct line of sight, another submissive was cuffed on her hands and knees on an adjustable platform, being fucked with rough authority by a tall, brown-haired man. His bangs fell over intensely dark eyes as he gripped his sub’s hips, driving into her. From the noises she made, it wasn’t as painful as it looked.

“Raise your arms.” From the sharp tone in Fort’s voice, I wondered if it was the second time he’d asked me. Maybe he just wanted me to pay attention rather than looking around the room. Even so, I couldn’t help glancing back at the fucking couple. The Dom yanked her head back, his fists wrapped in her hair, ropy muscles working below his rolled-up sleeves as her ragged screams carried to the somber walls.

“Does that look fun?” Fort cuffed my hands above my head, to either side of the iron arch, giving me precious little room to move. “A nice, rough fucking? You’ll get yours soon enough.” He cuffed my ankles next, forcing my legs wide with a spreader bar. Once I was secure, he released me and drove a couple fingers through my pussy lips, then up inside me until I had to rise up on my toes.

“Please, Sir,” I said. I wanted to ask for an orgasm, but I knew I wouldn’t get it, not yet.

“Please what? Please hurt me some more?”

I flushed hot as he pumped his fingers in and out. I was so wet, you could hear it.

“You want some cock?” he said in a gravelly, somber voice. “You’re so fucking wet.” He removed his fingers and spread my juices across one cheek. “Too bad you’re not getting any cock in your hot, juicy cunt, Sparkles. I hope you can come from having your asshole fucked. Otherwise, you won’t find much release tonight.”

Each nasty, profane word from his mouth made me hotter. He tilted up my chin when I avoided his gaze for shame at my own perversity.

“Tell me what you want, girl.”

“For you to fuck me, Sir,” I said. “For you to h-hurt me.” He paused, and I added the rest of it. “To hurt me however you want.”

“That’s a good girl.”

He crossed to his personal cabinet of torture devices and returned with a three-point set of solid metal clamps. After applying a severe clamp to each of my exposed nipples, he parted my soaked labia and knelt to apply the third to my throbbing clit. I never got used to the pain of being clamped, the way the sudden application took my breath away. And my poor clit… That clamp hurt worse than the ones on my nipples. I kicked my legs as if that might alleviate the pain, but it only made it worse as the heavy connecting chain swung from the motion.

He stood back to watch me struggle, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. I was sure my makeup was already smeared from my sobbing fit over the bench. The single tear that escaped and rolled down my cheek probably didn’t worsen things much.

“I love the way you cry,” he said. “I love the way you take this pain for me. Let’s try something new.”

He went to a rack of implements on the wall, a far more extensive and terrifying collection than he kept at home. After a moment, he selected a thick, leather, strappy thing with a split down the middle. “This is called a tawse,” he said, returning to me. “It hurts as much as a cane if applied correctly, although the pain is different. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. My voice shook as much as my arms and legs. I could take a step backward or forward in my spread-eagled position, but that was all. He started out in front of me, flicking the front of one thigh, then the other. He barely tapped me, but the sting was full-bodied, making me jump. My nipples screamed as the clamps swung, and my clit… My clit was beyond help.

“I’m scared,” I said. “Please, Sir…”

“Hush.”

“What if it’s too much?”

He took my chin in his hands, kissed my forehead, then held my gaze. “I keep telling you. Try to understand, Sparkles. I’ll never give you too much.”

“I…I trust you, Sir, but…” I cast a look around the busy dungeon, but the only sound I heard now was my frantic breath and his low voice.

“No buts.” He tugged the clamps’ chains where they intersected, causing a burst of pain. “Who’s the submissive here, girl?”

“I am.”

“And I’m your Dominant, right?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, cowed by the censure in his voice. “I trust you.”

“I’m not going to damage you. I won’t leave any marks that will be seen. I’m saving the real fun for your ass just before I fuck it. Understand?”

I swallowed hard. ?

??Yes, Sir.”

The next two blows came to my outer thighs. The tawse might look like a strap or belt, but its punishment felt worse than either of those things. After that, he landed a strike to my already sore ass cheeks, and I squealed in terror. That one would leave a mark.

“Ow. No. Please!” I squirmed, dancing on my toes, trying to keep my balance in the stilettos. I think I only gave him a more inviting target. He made a noise of approval and took up a stance behind me, just at the edge of my peripheral vision. My tawsing began in earnest, hard, excruciating spanks as I wailed and flailed, doing a convulsive dance in time to the blows. Ow. Ah. Ahhhh. It hurt so badly. I turned my head, trying to catch his gaze, trying to express that this was too much for me on top of the caning I’d endured earlier.

He stopped to give me a break, although it wasn’t really a break, since he traced the outside of my nipples and made them throb worse.

“Breathe,” he said. “You can do this. A few more.”

“No, Sir, please!”

“Time to take the clamps off, Sparkles. How brave you’re being.” He kissed me, thrusting his tongue deep in my mouth as I whined against his lips. I wanted him to take them off, but I dreaded the returning sensation. My clit felt ready to explode as I pressed against the front of him, feeling the outline of his solid erection. He let go of me and removed each clamp, watching my face to enjoy every flinch, every tremble of my lips. When he unclamped my clit, he shoved his fingers back in my pussy.

“You’re going to be bruised on your gorgeous ass, on your round, firm cheeks where no one can see. The cane and then the tawse, pretty girl. I’m almost done leaving my marks.”

He slapped the evil tawse against my mons, a sharp crack that made me burst into fresh tears. He held one of my hips and moved around me to deliver more blows to my ass. By now the sensation had bypassed stinging and moved on to hot, awful agony. I couldn’t get away from his punishment, but I couldn’t take much more either. I jumped and shifted, throwing pleading looks over my shoulder, but he was focused on his task. One of my stockings came loose, sagging against my upper thigh. He stopped to reconnect it with deft fingers, then grasped my chin.