“Please punish me!” He was naked, his arms folded over his chest with the elbows drawn in, and his mouth beseeching, hoping. Vulnerable.
When they’d had the actual argument, voices hadn’t been raised. She’d touched him, and wept. She wasn’t a person to whom loud rage came easy, just emotions compressed inside herself until her core became clogged with unsaid, over self analyzed complaints and only raw honesty could dig her out. She’d said all she needed to say, and he’d listened, now he was left with the guilt she hated to place on him.
“I’m not… I’m still angry.” She had her fists half balled, her shoulders squared but her face half turned away, her mouth holding the signature of the pain she was feeling in the way she curled her lips. “I don’t want some sort of big display to show you’re sorry. I want you to give me what I need, not just today, but every day, when I actually need it. And I don’t want you to do this because you want to prove something and then get distracted tomorrow.”
“Please. Please Jane. I fucked up. I love you.”
“I know you do, baby. But wanting me isn’t the same as being good for me.” He body ached to take him, to put him under her hands and back in his place. “You fucked up, but you’re still mine.”
“Please…”
She took a deep breath. “You’re not going to feel better until I punish you, aren’t you?”
His expression told her the answer was yes.
She touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth, behind her teeth and reached, hands pulling his arms from where they were covering his body, exposing him. “Very well. Go take a shower and then come back to the bedroom. Dry yourself off properly and do not dawdle under the hot water. Bring a towel with you.”
His lanky body stretched as he got out of the bed, limbs leading, eyes still stickily focused on her until he left the room and she heard the bathroom door swing shut.
She got up, took the elastic from her wrist and pulled her loose hair into a tail next to her ear, keeping it out of her face. She wore the garb of early fall, high socks reaching to white thighs, ass hugging shorts, a sweater that was half way into dress length and made up for a modest body by tumbling off one shoulder. She drank a glass of water and the mirror told her that the tear stained redness had started to fade from her complexion.
She heard the water of his shower as she gathered her dominance from it’s dissembled places, putting willpower with love, and letting herself trust again enough to loose her sadism. The light in the bedroom was already off, but she rose to extinguish the one in the hall and set candles on the dresser, calming and giving everything a softness. On the bed, patting the duvet into flatness, she laid out the studded leather strip of his collar, the many stranded flogger of stretchy rubber, the slim, sharp crop in its nylon sheath, gloves and lube.
The shower noises stopped, and she waited the next few moments until he emerged, wavy hair tossled all over the place and dark with residual moisture, towel held to half curtain his nudity. She took it from his hand and raised her brows, letting a hint of the command enter her voice, “I hope you did a good job getting dry. Otherwise this is going to really hurt.”
He had an aura of nervous anticipation. She knew that the shower had both let him center himself and unsettled him, never completely sure how far she’d go. He’d seen her fully released, letting loose on a borrowed masochist and the joy in her face as she made the man scream. It turned her on that she intimidated him, liked that letting him watch gave her another lever of control.
She smirked put her hands on him as if she owned him, first his arm and then cradling his testicles, liking their weight in her hand and the sense that his body was entirely in her control. “Kneel.”
Abruptly, he went from almost a head taller than her to having his face level with her belly. She made him hold his head just so, in submissive supplication and slid his collar about his throat, pulling the tabbed end through the buckle so it say below his adam’s apple. her fingers ran through his hair and then grabbed a handful at the back, pulling up.
Without much choice, he followed her command and ended up belly down on the bed. She’d left his towel crumpled on the floor while her palm cupped his bare ass and began to spank.
She built up the sensations while teasing him that she hardly thought he deserved a warm up. His guilt broke the path easily, letting his submissiveness burst out, horny, hungry, unable to do anything other than take what she wanted and be grateful,
With a warm glow in the cheeks of his buttocks, she struck until her own palm stung, reminding him he was being punished. “Inattentive. Lazy. Flirt.’
When she saw he needed more she brought the flogger from the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes!”
She swung the tool in flicking strikes, landing the rubber ends with soft splats, noting each gasp as she intensified her strikes. The red grew and blossomed, and she let the whip fall over his back, remembering her lessons- let it fall like she was painting wings, always in control, always letting weight and momentum fall where she could force him to endure. his skin darkened, flushed and his head moved. “Slut!”
She let another slash land across his raised buttocks, noting his cock had climbed to rock hard. “Does thinking about what a bad boy you are turn you on?”
He whimpered, past further comment and she responded with the crop, sharp pain, her choice of head-strikes or white welts from the shaft. She knew he would bruise up purple after this, looked forward to the days of marking and redoubled her efforts until she’s scouraged away the guilt and brought him to an abject, animal place.
Admiring the fresh marks, she caressed and scooped the towel, tapping his hip by way of indicating he should lie belly down with the fabric under his legs and hips. He knew what was coming, even as she drew on the black rubber glovers and made her fingers shiny with lube.
She made him accomadate her, inside and out, probing fingers stretching and making him completely exposed. She watched as she found secret spots inside, pressing until he ground himself into the rough nap of the terry cloth under him. She saw as his hips shifted, that his erection was standing rampant. Nothing got him harder than being completely used and teased. He began to beg.
Her cunt was wet, soaking through her panties. Clumsily, she shed her gloves, told him that he was going to be her toy and fuck her. The button and zipper fly on her pants came apart with quick yank, shedding her tight shorts down her legs in one smooth motion with her dripping panties. She let her bare fingers wiggle over the split lips and drenched dark curls. “You are going to fuck me. As hard as I want, and you won’t come.”
He nodded, making a little mewl of acquiescence, face tense with supressed desire, until she made him mount her, positioned in front of him so he saw the unblemished swell of her pale, round ass and the vivid, enflamed warmth of her cunt, making him work his cock into her.
She gave a little gasp, accommodating its size and then engulfing completely, inner muscles gripping, showing him that all his size was nothing she could not control and use. he began to thrust and the noises she made came from deep in her chest, raw lust, loving the power that made him do this. Her fingers slipped between her legs, once, twice, almost too slicked up to find purchase and tease her clit.
He made little noise, all his concentration going to hold back and resist the barrage of stimulus as she insisted, “Don’t come. If you do I’ll flog you raw.”
Her threat became a gasp as she came, almost squeezing him completely out with the violence of her contractions, and he gripped at her hips, sheathing the way she liked to give her something to use. When she could draw steady breath, she heard him beg again and said, softly, “Yes. Yes you may.”
His orgasm came with a scream, louder than her, as the intensity of everything finally was loosed, throwing him into a final spasm that sent a pulse of hot semen deep into her. He collapsed, first over her back and then sprawling, onto his back, too drained and lost to give more than little body jerks as she curled up beside him, stroking and smiling until he could reach for her again, seeking a different kind of release in the comfort of her arms. Knowing he was forgiven.
~
This week’s Friday Femdom Fiction is brought to you by XXX Sex Guides – a dating site for kinksters, who kindly offered to have their story enjoyed by everyone- and then left what I wrote up to me- which meant something real, raw and very much taken from life.
