Claiming Kenna Ch. 03

"We'll start slow. Kenna, do you like to touch yourself?"

What kind of a damn question was that? None of his business. He waited, almost patiently, but Kenna was preoccupied with thoughts of what she could get away with, and she didn't formulate an answer quickly enough.

He tisked, shaking his head. It seemed every time he moved, Kenna got a jolting reminder of her own fragility. He was searching for something.

"I--"she began without really knowing where she was going, landing lamely on the truth. "don't, really. I--" she was embarrassed to say that maybe she just wasn't very good at it. With her fingers in the dark, fawning over her own clit, it felt good. But nothing like...she felt her face flush hot remembering how he had touched her in the glass display case. She was suddenly grateful for the dim light.

"You'll learn not to keep me waiting."

Kenna tried to veer her neck around to get a look at what he was doing up behind her head now. She felt his fingers in her hair, and a primal part of her wanted to scream. It reminded her of a spider trapping prey. But as she waited, there was no pain--only discomfort, as he pulled her hair back. Then, she felt her eyebrow quirk as she heard the twang of a hair tie looping around the new ponytail.

With another few steps, he was back at her feet. Seemingly enjoying her baffled expression.

"Continue," he invited. But as soon as she opened her mouth, he leaned into the contraption, placing earnest pressure at the entrance of her cunt. The head of the buzzing beast was very nearly penetrating her and Kenna gasped, fearful and unsure if it was possible to put that thing inside her. She didn't want to find out. And so she let the words she was too embarrassed to say a few moments ago tumble out. "I don't think I'm very good at it."

"Hmm," he considered, priming a second question. "Or maybe you prefer a partner." His fingers trailed from the top of her mound to trace lightly over her pussy lips. She jumped.

"Nope! No partners!"

He chuckled, only stroking her again. "Oh? I must be special then."

In the next instant, he had done something with his fingers and Kenna felt her spine bow despite the restraints. A gasp breached her lips and she had to lift her head again to try and see what he had done. Another slight motion, and the situation was clarified.

He had placed a knuckle on either side of her clit, such that only a little squeeze sent every nerve crashing into each other. It was instant ecstacy, and with only a little humiliation, she found she was already wet enough to slick his fingers.

"Mmm," he teased. "Poor Kenna...never had a good lover. Don't worry." With his free hand, he dug into her thigh, squeezing appreciatively. "I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Her body responded to whatever kind of a threat that was eagerly. She watched as her naked nipples stood up, casting tiny shadows over her breasts. Her entire torso was gooseflesh and Kenna struggled with her next breath.

Above her, he continued to stroke her clit, accompanied only by the gentle vibrations below. Fuck. Each motion sent a ping of pleasure straight to the dopamine center of her brain. It was like she was starved--chasing it.

"Do you like that, Kenna?"

Her eyes met his, and she realized he was giving her a chance. To say yes for him. An easy answer. She better well fucking take it. Still, the word stalled on her lips until she looked down at her own feet. "Yes, Sir." She swallowed. Small and quiet, but to confirm his approval, he spoke.

"Mm. We'll count that as one. The rest won't be so easy."

Kenna laid her head back on the table. She could do this. This wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. There was pleasure building, even if she didn't want to admit it. She wanted fucking out. Out of these restraints. Off this table. Out of this fucking room. Anything to make this go faster.

In a false bit of performance, Kenna shifted her hips just a bit.Sensually, she thought to herself. Soon, she'd lay it on with the gasping and moaning and have this thing done inside of 10 minutes. Let the guy think he was some kind of sex god, she didn't care. She let out a fake little moan. But with the second grind of her hips, he removed his fingers, making her job faking it considerably harder.

"How do you like to service your partner? Make them feel good?"

Kenna wasn't super experienced with any of that stuff, or at least she couldn't know for sure. She had thought she did a pretty good job on Tommy Markons when she pressed her tongue against his shaft, sliding all the way down. He wasn't small--maybe not huge either, but she had gotten the whole thing in her mouth, and she thought that counted for something. She liked the way she had made his hips jerk with only the flick on her tongue--the way his head knocked back when she followed his cock down.

Kenna saw already that answering his questions was as much about satisfying his curiosity as it was getting her to think about pleasant things--her own pleasure. But if she just took the pleasure out of it..."I like blowjobs. Sir." Her voice was monotone, and he cocked his head.

With a small adjustment, the vibrator sat atop her clit, and he leaned over her now, pestering her with his attention. "You like a cock in your mouth, hmm, slut?"

"Y-yes, Sir." It was considerably harder to remain neutral with that thing buzzing pleasantly into her clit. Now her voice sounded like she was driving over a bumpy road. Kenna felt her hips twitching without her control.

He stepped up to her face, pulling a chair from the darkness behind him to sit beside her. "Mmm, now that's whatreal pleasure looks like."

Kenna squeaked.

With one hand he reached forward to massage a breast. His firm grasp sent pins and needles across her body and she half-yelped, unsure whether it was pleasure or pain. He pinched her nipple between two fingers, accenting the attended peak.

This time a real moan came out--aghast and enraptured--followed by another.What was happening to her? Fuck. She looked to him as if he had the answers, and as he locked eyes with her, she realized that he did. He was getting exactly what he wanted, building her up. At that moment, he reached with his right hand, trapping her clit again between two fingers. With the vibrator back at her entrance, she was right at the fucking edge--between sanity and shattering. Sliding his fingers over her clit, he trapped that little bud of nerves between them, and Kenna made a sound she had never made before.A scream, a moan? He did it again, mercilessly releasing a string of the sounds. Again, and she couldn't stop.Fuck. She was moaning in time with his ministrations, feeling the vibrations now deep in her core. She knew what was coming. Knew what she was supposed to say. As she reached the peak of her pleasure, the words came rushing out. She didn't have to force them."Ah!Yes! Sir!"

She felt her hips tilting, chasing after that intoxicating buzz, and he angled the point of contact to keep her primed. His fingers, though, were the real catalyst, working her expertly at her most sensitive point. As her moans toned down, he was already adjusting for her, and with the sink of two slick fingers into her cunt, Kenna felt herself arching again. "Ah! Oh, no!" Then again, the pleasure crashed, sparking from that central point of contact. Her whole body tightened. He was hitting something deep inside her, screaming for more, more, more. She could feel her toes pointing, and she remembered his words from earlier"You ever scream at the fucking ceiling?"

"Oh God, yes!" Somewhere in her still-conscious brain, it felt unnatural to speak--to scream out her pleasure instead of quietly letting it pass like when she walked her fingers out from under her bedsheets. But this was so much...more. His hands were taking her bare skin--exposed for the open air for him to see--to touch. Her legs spread lewdly open, forced apart by an unyeilding bar. He was forcing her pleasure on her, it was true. But fuck her if he didn't reach down a bit further, adjusting the speed on that pleasure-torture device.

"Sir, or Master." He corrected. "Two and three. Next time, get my title right."

The thought of it kind of disgusted her, and it momentarily took the edge off her building pleasure. This wasn't going according to plan. She was supposed to find out he was all talk and no game. Supposed to be able to controlhim with a well-timed jerk of the hips. It wasn't supposed to be...

"You ever been hit before, Kenna?"

The change in tome caught her off guard, and she realized she was disoriented. We're there still drugs in her system? Is that why this was so easy for him?

She closed her eyes, fighting back rage. "Only by you...Sir."

A little frown appeared on his face, and Kenna saw red.Fuck this guy. She wasn't really enjoying herself? With this sick bastard?No. Fuck that. Kenna yanked til the pull of the chains clacked.

Without standing, he merely swatted her wrist. "No." He voiced sternly. It was like he was scolding a dog. The order only made her fight harder, until all four limbs took turns pulling their chains to their limits.

"Let me out!"Kenna grunted with the effort of her struggle, losing none of her fury, even as it gained her nothing. He wanted her to be a fucking battered woman? What a sick fuck! She watched as he sighed, standing from his chair.

Much to her relief, he switched off the buzzing between her legs, adjusting it back under the table. "Fine," he drawled. And for a moment, Kenna thought it was over. Until...

In one long motion he was beside her, growling in her ear. "You've already given me what I want, you stupid bitch. You won't say 'thank you' to your Master when I give you fucking pleasure, you will beg me to fucking please stop the pain."

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. She'd gone too far. She was dealing with a goddamn psychopath and she pushed him. She goddamn pushed him. Her eyes couldn't follow as he stepped around the table, bending down and opening drawers built under there. She listened as the wood drawers slammed. He was angry. Not irritated. Not annoyed.Angry.

Kenna cursed herself for the tears running down her face.He hasn't even done anything yet. "Okay, okay." She tried to reason. "I'm sorry. I went too far. I--"

The wind was knocked out of her as he slammed a fist into her abdomen. She heaved, feeling her diaphragm spasm painfully as her body curled towards her knees. She couldn't fully protect herself though as the chains pulled tight.

Mimicking the first time he spoke to her in the cave, his hand was in her hair pulling back on her ponytail painfully. "Shut. Up." He stared her directly in the eyes until he was certain she was finished, then turned to his task. She held back whimpers in her throat as he rummaged underneath her, and for the first time, Kenna was awkwardly aware of her nakedness. The wet slick between her legs was growing cold. Her skin still alight from pleasure. Her body didn't yet know what was coming. But Kenna's mind reeled, imagining a thousand distinct horrors.

"Fighting your restraints... disrespectful thoughts..." he emanated ice. "How to punish you?" Setting several instruments on the table beside her, Kenna was forced to take stock.

Rope brushed across her thigh, as he set a bundle against her--like she was nothing more than a shop table. Then a mishmash of leather straps, among which she recognised a gag. Finally, he had something else in his hands, and as he moved towards her face, Kenna squealed.

"Stay still." Black cloth was over her eyes. It was only a mask...only a mask, and she willed herself to go stark still, hoping obedience would lessen the rest of her punishment.

When she was blinded, he yanked her head onto the table by means of her ponytail, and she wondered if he had known at the beginning how all this would pan out.

"For fighting your restraints..." She felt the coarseness of rope slip over her hand, and knot uncomfortably around her wrist. Then again on the other side. Her brow furrowed in confusion when she felt the metal cuffs spring from her limbs--the bar between her thighs removed. He was letting her up? Letting her out?

"What are you doing?"

"You should only ask questions to become a better slave, and never during a punishment." Another one of his rules.

He pulled her forward unceremoniously off the table, and she struggled to find her footing. He led her by the wrists to the back of the room--her little stone box. She couldn't remember seeing anything sinister-looking back there. But then what was he going to do?

"Step." Without much warning, she nearly tripped over the single stair, and he caught her by the elbow. She thought she heard him growl in his throat. Even the little misstep was enough to annoy him.

Then with his hand over hers, he slammed her forearm up against a wall.No, a column. It became clear as her other arm came up parallel. "Don't move." He maneuvered so quickly, she couldn't have retreated if she wanted to. At once he was wrapping the rope around her arms, crisscrossing and pulling tight. Standing like this, she resembled a sort of praying angel, and sure enough, when he'd finished tying her up, he flattened her hands against the wood.

"Another game." His breath against her skin startled her, and she jumped. She heard him inhale, pressing his lips against the back of her neck. "Scared?"

She tried to wrench her arms free, to elbow him in the stomach, but he'd looped the rope under her elbows in such a way that she couldn't drop her weight to get out. "I don't want to play."

"Mm, what you want..." he laced one hand around her neck, stepping into her. His hips pressed into hers, and she understood the point of the stair. Like this, she was at his height, and as he ground his hips into her ass, she felt his dick getting hard against the fabric of his pants. "I think we both know what that is."

His hands roamed, squeezing appreciatively--her breasts, her hips, her ass. She hadn't known this kind of...intimacy...could be threatening. She shook her head in tiny, sharp motions. She felt her breath catch. "Please. Don't."

He moaned against her neck, planting kisses which made her squirm. "Ican't wait to bury my cock in that sweet little pussy." His fingers played just on top of her mound, and she tried to swivel her hips away, until he slammed her into the column with his own. "Can't wait to feel you slick on my shaft. Hear those high, fast little moans as you get closer and closer to climax..." She shifted her legs, trying to lessen the effect of his words--the images burning in her imagination. "But..." He pulled away, and his touch was replaced by another sensation. Artificial, hard. He ran whatever it was down her spine. "You had your chance with pleasure. Now, you'll have to learn by the other side of the coin."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She felt him step further away, finding the detachment disturbing.

The next second was divided into instants. She opened her mouth to protest--to make him see reason, something. Then, the sound: the splitting of air. She heard herself inhale before the impact. The stinging stripe from shoulder to her hip on the other side. The initial impact made her yelp, but the way the pain blossomed--radiating and sharp--it made her knees buckle.

"It's a little game I like to call 'Stand the Fuck up'." It took her a moment to process, but when she did, Kenna straightened her knees as if by instinct.

Stand up. Stand up. Don't scream. She coached herself.

"Remember that number, Kenna? How many times were you supposed to cum for me?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"How many?"

Guessing at his meaning, she heard her voice tremble. "You-you counted three already..."

The next three strikes were blinding. He inflicted them with a practiced speed. Kenna's scream bubbled into a sob, and the ropes around her arms held her up.

"Stand. Up." Jarrod half smacked her, maybe with the whippy stick? On the back of each thigh. She followed his order, straightening out her trembling legs. "Do you remember, Kenna, what happens when you try to skirt your rightful punishment?"

She did. 3 became 5. He wanted to hurt her again.Five times. And she'd already made it worse. Her head reeled with the fear of it. She felt like she was going to throw up. It was a goddamn question, and she was supposed to answer, but, she couldn't make more than a squeak. She nodded her head furiously, feeling her shoulders shake.

When his hands touched her arms, she jumped. He was close behind her again, running his hands over the ropes on her arms--down her sides. "You look positively exquisite. Painted with my whip..." He touched one of the marks, and Kenna gasped. "5 more. Keep those legs straight. If I have to stop to correct your form, you'll earn another lash. Am I clear?"

Kenna nodded once more, but this time it wasn't good enough.

He growled. "Speak."

She could only whisper. "Yes, Sir. Clear, Sir."

With one parting squeeze of her ass, he was gone, stepping back, she knew to inflict another of those horrible lashes.

Kenna locked her knees, like you weren't supposed to do at choir concerts cause you might pass out. It would be a mercy. She couldn't afford to let her knees give.

"Count." He demanded, and another stripe painted her back.

"One." She cried.

"Sir."

"One, Sir."

*Snap* "Two, Sir." Her voice was high and she wanted to shake out her limbs the way she shook her hand when she burned her finger on a frying pan. She moaned as the old marks throbbed, adjusting her hands to grab hold of the column.

*Snap* "Three--Sir--" She forced each word through gritted teeth, and the whimpering came after.

She hadn't caught her breath before the next blow came, and her ears rang as she screamed. This one was different...worse. She couldn't be sure if he'd marked the same stripe again, or if he'd hit her harder, but this time, he broke skin. She could feel beads of blood trailing down the small of her back. When she realized she had lost her feet, Kenna sobbed. "Please! Please! I can't do this! I'm sorry!"

"You've earned one already. Get back on your fucking feet, slave, or you'll earn another."

God he was cold. So fucking merciless.

Fear propelled her into locking her knees again, and for a moment, Kenna panicked because another was coming, and she'd lost count.She lost fucking count.

" 1,2," She started sorting through each memory, over to have them overshadowed by another strike.It fucking burned.

He was waiting for the fucking number. She could only guess. "F-five. Five, Sir." He didn't correct her, or add to her punishment, so she must've been right. Only one more.Last one. Last one.

Stay on your feet, stay on your feet. She edged her toes outward, hoping for a wider stance, but standing up on that narrow stair, there wasn't much leeway. Kenna exhaled, expecting the last to be the worst. The blow landed parallel to the first, She screamed, but her feet were in place.

"Six..." She whispered, grateful and in disbelief. "Six m-mm..." Kenna realized what she'd been about to say and amended it. "Sir. Six."

He stepped into her again, and this time, she had to whine. The course fabric of his clothes against her skin made her revile.

"Please, it hurts Sir." She cowered into the column as much as she was able.

He gave her maybe half an inch of mercy, and she had probably never been so grateful in her life. She pulled in small, shuddering breaths, trying not to aggravate the marks.

"Do you remember what you were being punished for?"

For a scream-worthy second, her mind was blank. Then his words came flooding back."You had your chance with pleasure. Now you'll have to learn by the other side of the coin."