Pet Ch. 05

Elizabeth was gently stirred awake by a rhythmic rocking that she barely perceived. She tried to move, to stretch the stiffness of her muscles from the awkward tangle in which she'd slept, but quickly realized that she couldn't. Her eyes shot open and, lifting them upwards, she saw her wrists neatly secured, wrapped several times with medium cord, and locked by an encircling knot around the middle. The knot between her wrists was in turn fastened by a short length of cord to his headboard. The bindings were snug, but not overly tight, and she could tell there was no easy way to bring her arms more than an inch or two down from fully extended.

"Good morning, my pet..." he purred in her ear, his voice sending a warm tingle through her core. "We have plans before breakfast, as you can see."

Lifting her head to look over her situation, the tingle roared to life in full blown arousal as she took in the source of the gentle rhythmic motion that had awoken her. He was just finishing the knots to secure her lower body, his plans becoming more than obvious. It was precisely why she had come all this way. He had certainly improved his skill since their last encounter. A psuedo-harness of cord encircled her waist and angled down around her upper thighs, tightly secured under her buttocks and connected outside her hips. Her legs were each drawn up, heels tight to her ass, knees nearly to her chest. Each leg was locked into position with a half dozen horizontal wraps of rope around the thigh and shins. The same locking knot as the one binding her wrists secured the bonds between her calves and the back of her thighs, then attached to the harness, fairly immobilizing her in a deliciously vulnerable spread.

When he had completed the final knots, he smirked down at her, then unceremoniously grabbed the rope at her hips and flipped her into her knees. Gently sliding his hand across the flesh of her backside, she shuddered with anticipation, or nerves, or desire, she wasn't sure which. As the first slap rained down, she stopped caring. Stroke after stroke brought fire to her skin and nearly a tear to her eye. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "We've a bit to finish from last night, I think, my pet. You aren't thinking of crying out already, are you? We're just warming up, after all."

Through clenched teeth she whimpered, "No, sir... thank you."

"Thank you, indeed, pet," he spat at her, the harshness in his tone striking a chord deep within, both startling and stirring her.

He stopped spanking then and caressed her, a soft touch that did nothing to soothe the burn she felt, but instead drew her attention in full to the sensations raging in her lower body. Deftly, his hands slid rope to rope, shifting her position and restraints to bring her up onto her knees themselves, back arched and ass higher, leaving her face buried partially in the bedding. She felt him move away from her and she heard him fetching something from a drawer, then crossing back to where she lay, stretched and waiting. Her eyes widened as she saw what he was dangling before them: a tiny set of clamps with little round weights dangling from them. She hadn't time to wonder about their purpose for long, as no sooner had he presented them to her then he affixed them, one to each nipple. The intensity of the sensation sent shockwaves through her entire being.

"I've learned something, pet. Something I think you're quite going to enjoy. Today I'm going to teach you about endorphins," he said, suddenly tugging at her clamped nipples, stretching them excruciatingly downward. "Funny thing, those endorphins. Pain and pleasure bring them on," he continued in a detached, professorial tone. "The body doesn't discriminate, and the brain doesn't care what causes them. All it knows is that it likes them. Powerful, powerful drug." He lectured on, occasionally lashing her across her ass and thighs, causing her to jump and sending her clamps swaying torturously with each stroke. " Today's plan is to give you a nice, healthy dose, and let you...chase the Dragon." He punctuated each word with a vicious downstroke on her shining, cherry red ass and thighs, finally eliciting a cry from her lips. "And what have we here?" she heard him ask, as she felt two fingers penetrate her surprisingly wet depths. "You're dripping right down your thighs for me, aren't you?"

"Y-yes s-sir," she stammered, feeling herself become lost to the sensation of the pain radiating from her backside and the intensifying pleasure beginning to pulse in waves from her g-spot, which he was aggressively massaging.

"Now, the rules are no different," he reminded her authoritatively, "You will not cum without my permission." He punctuated each word with a long, milking stroke of his fingers.

She groaned at the pressure, already struggling to comply. "Yes, sir," She gasped, wondering how he managed to push her to this point again so quickly. Suddenly, she felt his fingers withdraw and his weight shift off of the bed. He moved across the room toward the closet. A knot of fear began to tighten in her gut when he turned back toward her and displayed what he had retrieved: a 12' black leather flogger, studded across the back, with the word "Slut" spelled out in reverse letters cut deeply into its thick length.

Elizabeth jumped as he brushed her backside with the studded side, first one cheek then the other. The metal was cool to the touch. As he drew back suddenly, she tensed and a faint squeak escaped her. Through squinted eyes she saw him smirking, then stars exploded behind her eyelids as the sharp crack of leather against flesh reached her ears. He paused, waiting for the sensation to register, before bringing down another blow - this one to the opposite cheek.

"Count," He growled, before bringing down the flogger again.

"One!" She cried.

He hit her again.

"Two!"

On it went, past ten, past fifteen... slow, methodical, rhythmic, and beyond her control. By twenty the numbers came out in choked sobs. By twenty-five she couldn't tell if what she felt more was the burning or the numbness, or even if she could think clearly enough to keep track. At thirty she simply yelped loudly in place of any coherent number. He finally gave pause, leaning down to her sweat and tear streaked face, and pressed the edge of the flogger into her mouth. She bit down and tried to regain control of herself.

"I've something to show you, Pet," He whispered, holding a mirror before her face. "Look past yourself, there to the wall. Do you see the mirror? I hope you like what you see, because I most certainly do."

Her view came into focus and in the limited field of the handheld mirror she could see herself from both angles, reflected in the larger mirror. Her eyes were wide as she took herself in: spread and bound, angry red and purple welts already forming on her delicate, skim milk flesh. She could even make out the word SLUT, now emblazoned in overlapping strips across her butt and thighs. What shocked her most, however, was how her arousal had bloomed in the midst of it all; her lips swollen and wide apart, her moisture glistening and now clearly forming rivulets down her quivering thighs. The view disappeared as he pulled the mirror away, setting it atop an end table and opening a drawer.

"This I know you'll like, my pet, but you'll regret it if you like it too much... that I can promise. Can you keep control?"

"I think so, Sir..." Elizabeth panted, although uncertainty tinged her voice. She had managed to control herself fairly well so far, but this was different. An inferno was raging in her, radiating from her glowing ass and soaked loins, and she felt as though it might consume her despite her best efforts.

"Do you think so?" Well, we'll find out soon enough." He smiled, a playful light tainted with sadistic joy flicked across his eyes, and he held up what he had been digging through the drawer for.