tagBDSMAs Good As Guitars Ch. 10

As Good As Guitars Ch. 10

byVCHeysham©

June 2011

"Olivia? It's Mark. Can I see you? Today? I'm in London."

The familiar voice corrects me. "May you."

"Sorry. May I see you? It's just that work's crap at the moment and Leigh's being a bitch and I'm all antsy... Seeing you would help." There's a pause while she considers my request. I tell myself it won't matter if she says no.

"Why not? Sasha will be with you in an hour."

I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Thank you, I need it. I'll see you later." I hang up and head for the shower.

Two hours later Sasha delivers me to Olivia's front door. As usual she's waiting for me, today dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her dark hair in a long plait and her feet bare. She kisses me on the cheek in welcome.

"Mark. It's always a pleasure. Come in."

I follow her into the hallway and on into the living room, where an unusual device sits in the middle of the floor. I don't recognise it, but if she's showing it to me I'm sure I'll soon have personal experience of what it's for. I can see a wooden base covered by a padded cushion, about two feet wide by three feet long, with a waist-height rail at one end. At the other end a wooden arm, with two cut-out semi-circles, sticks out to the side.

We never normally play downstairs, and I wonder why today is different.

Olivia's voice breaks into my thoughts. "I wasn't expecting your call today. I didn't think I'd be seeing you again for another three weeks."

"I'm sorry." I'm not sure what else to say.

She smiles kindly. "You never have to be sorry, Mark. I always like to see you."

My relief fades slightly when I look at her more closely. If I didn't know her better, I'd think she looked... apprehensive. The impression intensifies when she hesitates for a second. "I should tell you - what I'm intending for you today will hurt. More than you're used to. Can you agree?"

I've known Olivia for a long while now and I trust her absolutely. All the same, a kick of adrenaline fires through me as I wonder what's she planning. I take my time before I answer. "Yes, okay."

She takes a small breath, returning to her normal self-assured demeanour. "Thank you. Then, if you're ready, strip off please and kneel upright on the pad there." Olivia indicates two indentations below the rail. I undress quickly and kneel where I'm told. She moves behind me and I hear a click. Twisting around, I see that she's locked the wooden bar in place across my ankles, as if I'm in stocks. I can move my feet a little, but not pull them free.

"Now put your hands on those grips."

I place my hands carefully and she slips two fabric loops around my wrists, cinching them tight and tying me to the rail. I must look like a member of the congregation about to receive a blessing. I think about the implications of the position she's put me in, and my stomach knots as I begin to get a hazy idea of her plans.

Apparently satisfied with my bindings, Olivia sits on the sofa in front of me. I look up at her when she speaks. "Remind me what you said on the phone."

I'm momentarily confused. "I, um, I said work was crap at the moment. That's why I wanted to see you."

"And what else?"

"I said that Leigh was being..." Understanding creeps closer, and I don't want to finish the sentence. "Being a pain."

Olivia raises an eyebrow. "No, I don't think you used that word, did you? I think what you actually said was that she was being a bitch. Didn't you?"

I close my eyes. "Yes."

She stands up and walks around behind me and I hear her pick something up. Another shot of adrenaline floods me with fear - and anticipation.

Her voice is calm. "Then by my calculation, that makes you, as her boyfriend, a dog."

There's a quick movement and the sharp crack of a cane, and then there's a searing pain across the upturned soles of my feet. It's as if she's laid a red-hot poker across them. I can't stop myself from crying out.

She sounds unmoved. "And the first thing we know about dogs is that they don't walk upright." Without warning she canes me again.

"Please no, Olivia, no more, it's too much, please don't, I ca-" I cut myself off with another yell as she hits me again. The pain is excruciating, much worse than she has ever inflicted on me before. I want to throw up. I can't get enough breath. My feet are on fire. "Oh god... amber." I can hear myself babbling, but I can't stop. "Amber amber amberamberamberam..."

My voice fades as I run out of breath. My thoughts are racing. I contemplate safewording, but a part of me wants to know if I can cope with what she's dishing out and I frantically bargain with myself.

Olivia leans down to me, her mouth close to my ear, her voice quiet. "Only two more, Mark. Can you do it?" Knowing what's coming makes it easier to bear. I nod, hoping I'm right. As if there hasn't been a pause, she stands up. "The second thing we know is that they don't speak. And dogs that howl get beaten again."

I understand her threat and make myself calm down, willing myself not to make another sound. When I see her move I brace myself, and this time when the cane lands I bite my lips together hard enough to draw blood. I don't cry out, but I can't stop the tears.

"Last one." Her voice is gentle, but the fifth blow is the worst yet. I sink onto the rail, unable to be completely quiet as I sob. The pain radiating from my feet is all-consuming and I writhe futilely as my body tries to make it go away. Not for the first time, I wonder what it is that drives me to seek this out.

Olivia drops the cane and strokes my back, shushing and soothing me as if I were a frightened pet. Slowly the tears stop, my breathing returns to normal, and I can feel my body relaxing slightly. When she sees it happen, she sits down in front of me again and unties my wrists. I don't move until she forces my fingers to release their grip on the rail.

"The final thing we know is that dogs don't have opposable thumbs." She buckles a leather mitten on to each hand, then strokes my head. "There's a good dog. Are you going to carry on being a good dog for me?"

I nod, my mouth still clamped shut for fear of making too much noise and incurring another stroke.

"Then you shall have a nice drink." She gets up and unlocks my ankles. "Come on."

I drop onto all fours - my feet are in such pain that I'm actually thankful that she expects me to crawl. Suddenly understanding why we're not upstairs, I follow her into the kitchen. On the floor is a large dog bowl labelled FIDO.

"Fido, meaning faithful. It suits you, don't you think? Drink up."

I look up at Olivia. Her expression's deadly serious. Simultaneously aghast yet turned on by the humiliation, I lower my face. The bowl is half-full of water and I lap at it tentatively.

"Oh Fido, you can do better than that." Gently she pushes my head down until the tip of my nose is wet, and holds me there while I clumsily suck up the liquid. I'm thirsty, but I've not drunk a lot before she pulls me up by my hair.

"That's enough - you can have some more later." She looks at me appraisingly. "Hmm. Now I think of it, a tail would suit you. Stand still." I can guess what she's intending and sure enough a moment later she's pushing a plug into me. I can feel the tail brushing gently against my inner thighs. She pets me briefly. "I've got a shopping list to write. A good dog would curl up quietly in his basket, don't you think?"

She indicates with her head and I see a wicker basket in the corner, lined with a blanket. It looks no bigger than a real dog-basket, but I don't demur. I do my best to fit into it, lying on my side and hugging my knees to my chest. Olivia sits down at the table, facing me so that she can see me clearly, and then picks up a pen and begins to write.

At first all I can think about is the white-hot pain radiating from the soles of my feet. I've read about bastinado but never fully appreciated how much it actually hurts. I burned my feet on hot sand once as a child and this feels something like that, but much, much worse. I'd give anything to be able to soothe them in cold water. Instead, every time I inadvertently touch the wicker basket I wince and whimper.

After a while, as it always does, the raw edge of the pain abates, and I begin to wonder how long she intends to make me lie here. Although I've been on a leash or in a cage a few times, we've never played any games quite like this before. I've imagined it, and wondered how it would feel to be treated like a pet, but never felt any particular urge to find out. To my surprise, I feel my cock start to twitch and swell. I wonder if it's in response to the situation, or whether I'd be turned on by anything if it were Olivia doing it to me.

I'm sure that she's been watching closely, but she makes me wait a few moments longer before putting her pen down. "What a well-behaved, quiet little dog you are, Fido. Would you like to play outside now?" She expects me to agree, and I have no intention of disobeying. When I nod she crosses to the outside door, holding it open while I uncurl myself and crawl to her.

As I reach her she stops me and holds up something that looks like a plastic claw attached to a large baby's dummy. "You can pick up your ball with this - don't be a naughty dog and drop it." She puts the dummy into my mouth and I bite down carefully on the rubber mouthpiece. We walk out into the back garden and onto the grass, where she throws a tennis ball. "Fetch, Fido! Good dog."

I set off across the grass to the ball, trying hard not to think about how ridiculous I must look. When I reach the ball I manage to snag it with the claw, and I'm absurdly pleased with myself as I return to Olivia's feet.

She pats my head. "Well done! Now faster." She throws it again and I chase after it. Moving on all fours is strange, and it also makes me very aware of the plug. My second attempt's no quicker, and when I return to her she sounds disappointed.

"Oh dear, I didn't think you'd be a lazy dog. Last try." She throws a third time. I do my best, but suspect she's just looking for an excuse to be cross with me. When I offer her the ball, she takes the claw out of my mouth. "It looks as though you need some obedience training. Stay here."

I barely have time to wonder where she's going before she's back, kneeling down next to me and fastening a collar around my neck. I hear the snap of a leash and she stands up, pulling at me to move. "Let's start at the beginning. Heel, Fido."

Olivia leads me up and down the garden for several minutes, smacking me intermittently when she says I'm not being attentive or fast enough. The plug moves inside me and the tail brushes against my legs, and each time she smacks me it turns me on even more. My cock's rigid, making me clumsy, and it's not just the exercise that's making me pant.

Finally she stops and lets me catch my breath. "You look tired, Fido, maybe you need to rest. Come on."

She leads me around the corner of the house and onto a patio, close to a metal ring set into the concrete. A short chain, only a few links long, is attached to it. "I won't be gone long, but I need to be sure you won't run away." She pushes my head down, swapping the leash for the chain. "There you go. Enjoy your nap." She briefly ruffles my hair and then she's gone.

I can barely lift my head off the ground. The only way to relieve the strain on my neck is to bend my knees and elbows and drop to the floor. But the ground's cold and uncomfortable, and I can't bear to even think about touching my buttocks to the upturned soles of my feet. I move from one uncomfortable position to another, only able to stand each one for a short while before trying something else.

At the point that Olivia returns I'm resting my head on my hands, my arms beneath me and my arse in the air.

"That's an unusual pose for a nap." Her voice makes me jump. She slaps a buttock when I start to move. "No, stay there. I may as well check you over while you're like that." I don't know what she means and I can't see her, but I soon feel her hands on my skin. She runs them over me carefully, smoothing over every square inch of my back, then reaches round underneath to my stomach and rib cage.

My body's reaction to her touch is immediate, but she ignores my cock. Instead, she checks my arms and legs, like a groom inspecting a horse. Her hands linger on my inner thighs, teasing me until I give in and move towards her. She lifts her hands and I can't help groaning in frustration.

"Poor Fido, are you not feeling well? You seem healthy enough." I hear her pick something up. "Let me check your temperature."

She pulls the plug unceremoniously out of me, replacing it with something else slender and smooth that I'm sure isn't a thermometer. It's cold and unlubed and I can't help squirming, even though being helpless like this is turning me on.

Olivia slaps me again. "Hold still." There's a click and the vibrations start, and I nearly bite my tongue in surprise. She doesn't move, holding the wand in place as it hums relentlessly inside me. My cock twitches madly, desperate for her touch, and I can't be still.

At first I'm sure that she's just teasing me some more, but she doesn't switch it off. It goes on long enough that I start to think that she might let me come, at the same time sure that she won't. The uncertainty is a turn-on in itself, and it's not long before I'm writhing in torment and close to the point of no return. As if she can read my mind, Olivia chooses that moment to switch off the wand and remove it.

I can't hold back a wail of dismay, biting it off abruptly when I feel her stroking my back gently. It's almost too much - I'm trembling with unreleased tension. My hands are free and I'm so desperate that for a moment I consider getting myself off without permission. It would take seconds, and I'm not sure she'd be able to stop me in time. Only the realisation of how angry she would be prevents me from moving. After the inevitable punishment I'd be lucky to be allowed to come again before Christmas - assuming that she'd even agree to see me again in the first place. Praying for control, I take several deep breaths and think about cold showers.

When I can finally stop twitching, Olivia unclips the chain from my collar and I raise my head with relief. She puts the water bowl down in front of me. "Are you thirsty?" I am, and I drink gratefully. She waits patiently until I lift my head. "You enjoyed playing with the ball earlier, didn't you?" I nod, and she puts the dummy back in my mouth. "Fetch then." She throws the ball.

This time it lands in a patch of nettles in the border. I look up at her, hoping that she doesn't mean it, but her voice is hard. "Fetch, Fido, or I'll beat you again."

I make my knees move. Remembering the folk wisdom that it's better to grasp a nettle than be timid, I decide to grab the ball as quickly as possible. To my relief I snag it with the claw on the first attempt, but then I stumble over my feet as I back out of the patch. The plants brush softly against me the whole time, and I can feel stings starting up all over my body.

By the time I get back to Olivia's feet with the ball I'm defeated. My neck and shoulders ache, my knees are sore, and my feet are still a low smoulder. The fresh nettle stings on top are almost too much. I hang my head, bracing myself for the next challenge.

To my surprise she kneels down next to me and strokes my head. "You're a good dog, Fido. You always try to please me, even if you are naughty sometimes." She gently takes the claw out of my mouth and removes the collar. "Let's get you back indoors and you can have a nice bath."

We return to the house and she takes me through to a downstairs wet room, directing me to the far corner. Lifting each of my hands in turn she takes off the mittens, then uses the detachable showerhead to rinse me off. The warm water soothes the stings and the aches, as do her hands when she soaps me up. I'm hard again, but she soaps my cock only briefly, almost absentmindedly. I push against her, receiving a slap in response that only excites me even more. When she washes my hair, her fingers on my scalp send tingles down my spine, and then all too soon she's rinsing me off.

"There we go Fido, all nice and clean. Come and stand on this towel." I open my eyes and do as I'm told, dripping steadily while she fetches a second towel to dry me. When she lifts my foot I can't stop a hiss of warning, but she's as gentle with me as I've ever known her. It's hard to believe she inflicted such pain in the first place.

Finally she runs her hands over my skin, checking her work. My head hangs and my breathing's shallow as she touches me, but after the wand I don't dare hope that she'll take pity on me.

"All dry. Does that feel better? Shall we go back to the living room?" Before I can respond she leads the way and I follow obediently, still on all fours. The wooden frame is gone, replaced by the usual thick sheepskin rug.

"I think you've learned your lesson, haven't you? That men don't call women bitches?"

I nod, downcast.

"Well then, I think I can start calling you Mark again. And would you like me to do something about this?" Her fingers brush against my cock, making me tremble.

I swallow, my throat dry from having been silent for so long. "Please..."

"Go and wait for me on the rug. I need to strip these wet clothes off."

I watch as she peels off the t-shirt and jeans, revealing bikini briefs with side ties and a matching halter-top. I don't get to see Olivia naked nearly often enough. Her body's lean and toned with a faint tan, and I want to touch it and feel it touch me.

"On your back." When I lie down she unrolls a condom onto me and then straddles me, rubbing herself suggestively against the underside of my cock. I'm so hard that I ache. "Does this feel good?"

"What you do to me always feels good. Even the bad bits."

She smiles, reaching up to stretch her arms above her head, watching me watch her. Lowering her arms, she unties the halter and tosses the bikini top aside. Her nipples stiffen and she starts rubbing herself against me with more force.

I lift my hands. "May I touch you?" There's no guarantee that she will agree, but she nods. I loosen the side ties of her bikini briefs, seeing that she's damp. I trace my fingers along her crease, trying to remember everything she's taught me about her body. Gently I slide a finger into her, then two, feeling just how wet she is. I know I'm pleasing her when she catches her breath, and when I brush a thumb across her clit she can't stop herself from letting out a tiny moan. I want to tease her the way she teases me, but she's never going to allow that.

When she's ready, she lifts herself a few inches. "I want you inside me when I come." I move my hands to her hips and lower her onto my cock. I can feel her muscles gripping me, the sensations threatening to tip me over the edge. When the haze clears I open my eyes to see her looking down at me, and return my thumb to her clit as she starts to move. "Yes, like that... such a good boy..." Her voice trails off and she closes her eyes.

It takes all my self-control not to come. A flush spreads across her chest and neck as she gets closer to orgasm, her head thrown back and her mouth open as she gasps for breath. My thumb moves faster and faster until suddenly she lets out a long cry, clutching at me frantically as she rides me until she's spent.

When she finally opens her eyes they're glazed, and a vicious stab of pleasure darts through me at having been able to satisfy her. She looks at me, no doubt seeing how close I am to the edge, but making me wait anyway. After all the earlier torments, I can't bear it. "Olivia... please..."

She considers me silently for a long moment. My stomach knots in fear that I've somehow overstepped today's boundary, that she will say no. To my relief she smiles. "I think you've earned it."

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