His House of Submission (House of Submission 1)

‘I think I’m going to have to, aren’t I? Or how are you ever going to learn your lesson?’

‘Oh.’

I think he must have picked up the fear in my voice, because he brushed the switch over my bottom, quite gently.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘I’m an expert. I won’t go too far.’

How far was too far?

He performed the merest flick of the wrist and the end of the wand snapped sweetly on to my rear. It was a sizzling caress, nothing more, and it made me sigh.

‘More of that, eh?’ he said.

‘Mmm.’

But more of that wasn’t on the agenda. Instead he drew his arm much further back and whipped me properly, drawing a glowing line on my bum.

I jolted forward and screeched. It really, really hurt.

‘Not what you expected?’ he asked smoothly.

‘It burns.’

‘A nice, lasting burn. How many do you think you can take?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Now the immediate shock was past, I found myself enjoying the residual throb. ‘Maybe you could try another.’

He snorted. ‘Maybe I could.’

He did. It sliced across the top of the previous stripe, convincing me that I had made the wrong decision.

And yet, I kept on making that wrong decision. I kept bringing the safeword to the tip of my tongue, then swallowing it.

No matter how many times I sucked in my breath and gripped at the rug and wobbled on my knees, I went back for more, pushing my bum back out, doing what he wanted me to do.

Somehow I suffered through ten strokes of fiendish, furious pain before begging for mercy.

He threw the switch aside, pulled me up to a kneeling position and kissed me so fervently that I forgot all about the pulsing and the heat behind. Or at least, I did until its effects bled into my clit and my pussy, combining with the kiss to set me aflame. He cupped my arse cheeks, squeezing and running his thumbs over the welts, while his tongue plunged further.

‘Want you,’ he gasped, breaking free. ‘Here.’

He lay back, dealt with the rubber and moved me over his upright cock, lowering me down with teasing slowness until I had him exactly where I wanted him, right up inside me. I began to grind slowly, bending low to brush my nipples against his wet shirt, and he let me for a little while before pinching my hips to make me stop.

‘Turn around,’ he whispered. ‘I want to see your marks while I’m fucking you.’

Oh God. I was so stuffed full of delirious, submissive lust that I would have done anything he asked, but this was a gymnastic move beyond my capability. Or so I thought.

I worked, slowly and carefully, at rotating myself one hundred and eighty degrees, his cock the screw, my cunt the nut. Never was a tool more delicately secured.

Finally, after much balancing of limbs, I found myself facing his feet. His cock felt strange at this angle – upside-down. I felt I ought to lean back or I might warp it out of shape.

But he seemed happy enough. Instead, at his behest, I bent forward and he kept his hold of my hips.

‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘I can see them all now. Ten red stripes. That must hurt.’

He pressed his finger into one and I winced.

‘It’s … really … sore,’ I gasped, feeling his cock, thick and fat, stretching my boundaries.