The Bookstore Ch. 04byzenmackie©
He made her put the collar on herself. He showed her how to open the clasp with the Allen key and watched her fix the steel band around her neck. It fit perfectly—snug against her skin but not tight enough to constrict her breathing in any way. He pocketed the key and just watched her as she knelt at his feet, feeling the collar with her hands and getting used to its weight. After a quiet, tense minute, during which he was sure she was contemplating the seriousness of the decision she'd just made—and, he had no doubt, getting hornier by the second—he reached down and clipped the chain leash to her collar.
He took a step back and gave the leash a vicious yank, pitching Marie forward onto her hands and knees. She gasped and her hand went involuntarily to her neck. She looked up at him and her face, small and pale above the shiny uncompromising steel, revealed her hurt feelings. "Just making sure it works, princess," he said in reply, smiling cruelly. He pulled steadily on the leash and she followed him, crawling, over to a padded spanking bench assembled in the middle of the store. He sat down and she settled at his feet.
Marie was exhausted. Her thoughts and feelings had been rioting since that morning, and it was taking its toll on her. She knew she'd made the right decision when she agreed to wear his collar, but her life had changed so irrevocably and so fast—she couldn't assimilate the joy and confusion that flooded her. Her pussy and asshole burned where he'd so roughly fingered them. The slight pain only made her hornier.
For she was horny again, almost unbearably so. The way he'd manhandled her, the feel of the slave collar around her neck, the crawling, all had their inevitable effect and by now she could feel her wetness starting to coat her inner thighs. Her nipples, still recovering from having been clamped for an hour or more, were hard and throbbing. How badly she wanted him to touch her again, to hold her like he had before... She rubbed her head against his leg, instinctively seeking comfort.
"Sit up and look at me," he snapped, sounding irritated. Marie rushed to obey him, remembering to spread her thighs, hoping he'd notice and be pleased.
But his voice was cold as he went on, "Now for your punishment."
She looked so dismayed it was comical. He would have laughed if this hadn't been an important moment. He had to make good on his promise to make her suffer right away, or she might not take him seriously.
Marie felt her stomach sink. She'd been so hoping he'd take her in his arms, hold her down and fuck her thoroughly. Hadn't he punished her well enough for her two transgressions? She'd thought the panties over her face and in her mouth, the clamps on her nipples, being left uncomfortably bound and alone in the bookstore hallway had been her punishment. What had she done now?
As if reading her thoughts, he was saying, "I think you learned your lesson about following my directions precisely, and maybe even about coming without permission." He paused for effect. "But you've completely neglected to thank me for your gift."
Marie's hands flew to her collar and grasped it tightly, afraid he might take it away from her. An instant later, however, she threw herself down, her forehead touching the tips of his shoes and her palms to the floor on either side of him.
"I'm so sorry, Master," she said to the floor, "I didn't mean to be ungrateful." She raised her face to look up at him. "Thank you, Master," she whispered, "for the most wonderful, precious gift I've ever been given. I know I don't deserve it, especially now when I've been so thoughtless." She rose up onto her knees and seized his hands. "Please, please punish me, Sir, as I deserve." She released his hands and prostrated herself before him again.
He was glad she wasn't looking at him, because he was a little shocked. He never expected her to attain this level of submissiveness this soon. He didn't know if she was just being clever, trying to think of the right things to say to mollify him, or if she really meant it—but either way, it was an impressive apology. It also made him hard as a rock.
He stood up and said, "Get up," and to his relief his voice sounded disgusted. She rose shakily, keeping her eyes downcast. He studied her face for a couple of seconds but he still couldn't tell if she'd been sincere in her apology or what she was thinking. Well, in a few minutes all her thoughts would be focused on the pain of her ass.
In truth, he wasn't angry with her, or even really disappointed—she'd learn. But he'd been waiting all evening to really enjoy his new little submissive, and now his body was straining to possess her. "All right, princess," he said finally, indicating the spanking bench. "Climb aboard."
Marie looked at the contraption with trepidation. He had been sitting on a cushioned platform, about three feet off the ground. To one side of it, about a foot lower, were two skinnier, longer platforms, about two or three feet apart and angled outward. On the other side were another two platforms, a little shorter and about shoulder-width apart. An intimidating collection of straps and cuffs dangled from several points.
Satisfied that she'd figured it out, Marie gingerly approached the bench. Kneeling carefully on the long padded rests, she aligned her hips with the middle platform and bent forward until she could place her forearms on the arm rests. As soon as she was in place, her instincts screamed at her to jump up and get off this thing. She'd never felt so exposed, even when she'd been bound and naked in the parking lot earlier. She started to tremble. Why, once he strapped her down he'd be able to do anything he wanted to her, and she would be helpless to resist.
He, on the other hand, was delighted with the way she looked on the bench. His friend Theo had adjusted it to his specifications earlier that evening, and her petite frame fit perfectly. Her arms were supported from her hands to her elbows, her legs from her knees to her ankles, while her small bare feet hung in the air off the end of the leg rests, her toes pointing at the floor. The main platform supported her hips and stomach, but her breasts hung free, almost beckoning him to do things to them. The arm rests were low enough that her ass was pointed enticingly upwards, while her legs were kept spread and angled apart, giving him access to her crotch and inner thighs. His heart pounded at the sight, and he knew she'd look even sexier when she was strapped down.
With that thought in mind, he began to efficiently fasten the straps and cuffs to her body. There were cuffs for her ankles and wrists, pinning them securely to the arm and leg rests. Additional straps went around the backs of her knees, her arms near the elbow, and her waist. He pulled them all very tight, knowing that when he was done she wouldn't be able to so much as wiggle. When he was done he stepped back and looked at her, slowly circling her helpless form. The black cuffs and straps contrasted delightfully with her pale skin, the dusky pink color of her nipples and pussy also standing out. The angle of the leg rests pulled her buttocks and pussy lips apart slightly and tightened the skin over the whole area, making it more sensitive to punishment. He swore he could see her pussy twitching, clear moisture seeping slowly and steadily from it, making her plump labia look shiny and enticing. It was a vision.
He stepped around to her front, where she kept her head down, her hair falling around her face. "Look at me," he commanded and she did, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks betraying her nervousness and her arousal. "Do you remember reading me your favorite book last night?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered, her stomach tightening as she wondered where this was leading.
"In that chapter, what happened to the princess?'
"She—she was sp-spanked, in the tavern in the inn," Marie stammered.
"Spanked with what, princess?"
Her heart pounding, Marie struggled to get her voice to cooperate. He reached out and pinched one of her sore nipples. When he started twisting it, she finally cried, "A—a paddle, Sir!"
He released her nipple, saying, "That's right." He smiled wolfishly, adding, "I'm sure you can guess what's going to happen to you."
He took a step towards her, adding, "But not just yet." He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face with his hands, pausing to massage her temples gently with his thumbs, soothing her. "Not...just...yet," he repeated softly, as if to himself. He opened and unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his thighs. Then he took his cock in his hand and began to rub it across Marie's face.
"Mmmm..." His eyes were intense, his expression deeply focused as if he was an artist and her face the canvas he was painting. Sometimes he used just the very tip to make delicate little patterns around her eyes and other times he would press its entire length against her face, seizing her head and grinding it roughly back and forth against him. Marie knew she had to be utterly still, to continue to meet his gaze, even though she was dying to take him into her mouth, especially when he began to rub the head across her lips.
She got her wish, although not in the way she had hoped, when he used his hands to pull her jaws apart and shoved his cock into her mouth--as if she were not a person at all, nothing but a convenient hole for him to fuck.
His face was as cold and dispassionate as his movements were brutally lustful. He pushed his cock down her throat and held it until she began choke and gag, then withdrew just long enough for her to gasp for breath before pushing into her again, over and over.
Marie whimpered, tears running down her face, as she choked and tried desperately to relax her throat enough to accommodate him. Her body of its own accord writhed helplessly against her bonds until she felt as if every muscle was about to be torn loose. And her pussy...oh god, her pussy was dripping!
At the very edge of her peripheral vision she could still make out his face during those few seconds when her head wasn't being forced up and down on his cock. She saw his eyes blaze and his jaw tighten and knew instinctively that he was about to come. So when he pulled out of her mouth and released his grip she raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze as he reached his orgasm and with no more than a single grunt of pleasure began spurting his come onto her face.
Thankfully, he missed her eyes, but Marie could feel the globs of come sliding down her cheeks and forehead. Bound as she was, she couldn't wipe it off. But he had no intention of it coming off, she realized as, recovering himself, he used his thumbs to gently, carefully smear the deposit across her face, rubbing it into her skin.
"Maybe this time you'll remember not to wash your face."
Tears filled Marie's eyes at the thought of having the sticky residue of his come on her face for hours, days maybe, but she reveled in his cruelty—now only wishing he'd get on with it and fuck her as roughly as she was longing for him to do. But he was going to paddle her first.
He had refastened his pants and walked away, out of her sight. She could hear him touching something on one of the store's racks. Her body tensed at the sound of wood knocking into wood; her muscles struggled in vain to close her legs. He came back, holding three different paddles by their handles. He thrust them toward her face, saying gruffly, "Choose."
The sight of the frightening instruments had Marie flexing involuntarily against her bonds again. All three paddles were made of wood, but their properties varied otherwise. One was long and skinny, about an inch thick, with holes bored through it at intervals. The second was broader and shorter, with a long handle. She looked at the third one with distaste. It was dyed a lurid purple color and the paddle at the end of its long handle was shaped like a heart. She remembered vividly her spanking from last night, so she had some idea now of how painful a spanking could be, but that had just been with his hand. This had to be much worse. She wished she had some idea of which would hurt the most. She wished she could read his mind. Was there one he wanted her to pick?
It was taking her too long, she realized suddenly, frantically, just as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up and back. "Didn't I tell you I expect instant obedience?" he growled, and she hastened to say, "Yes, Sir, I'm sorry... the middle one."
Without releasing her hair, he brought his face close to hers and said, "Beg me to punish you. Be specific."
Marie gulped. She squirmed nervously against the straps. "Please..." she whispered, then paused and took a shaky breath. "Please punish me, Sir, for... for forgetting to thank you for my gift." Her eyes closed as she braced herself for the rest. "Please paddle me, Sir."
It hardly gets better than this, he thought as he watched her pretty, expressive face, still shiny with his come; saw the eager, apprehensive look in her big green eyes as she begged him to hit her bound, defenseless body with a wooden paddle. He was glad he'd fucked her face just before; otherwise, it would be a struggle not to take her right now. She was so tempting when she begged.
But first things first. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, murmuring, "Good girl," then released her hair and stepped around to her rear. He dropped the other two paddles and hefted the one she'd picked in his hand. He wondered if she knew that the longer handle would allow him to swing with more force.
Marie hoped he wouldn't make her wait forever like he had the night before... but as soon as she completed the thought she felt the smooth wooden edge of the paddle stroking her inner thighs, which were spread and stretched by the spanking bench.
He slid the side of the paddle up against her pussy, making sure to stroke it over her clit, then back up between her buttocks and over the little star of her asshole. He loved the way she gasped and squirmed in her bondage. He'd pulled the straps so tight she could hardly move, only her head remaining free. He stopped teasing her with the paddle, stopping only a moment to notice the gleam of moisture on its surface, and said loudly, "Now, since you obviously need some instruction in manners, princess, I think it's appropriate for you to thank me after each swat. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, Sir," came her quiet, strained voice.
The next sound that came out of her mouth was a yelp of pain-- "OWWwww!"--followed by the hiss of her breath through clenched teeth. He had given her no warning whatsoever beyond the whoosh of the paddle just before it struck and she'd been completely unprepared. Oh christ, it had hurt much more than any of his previous spankings. And he was just beginning.
Even though she was still gasping with pain and shock she forced herself to speak. "Th-thank you, Ssssir," she whispered. "Thank you for p-punishing m-" The second blow cut her off before she could finish, making her head jerk back, and before she could lower it he had seized her by the hair again, yanking it tightly in his fist.
"Speak up, you lazy fucking whore!" he yelled.
"Y-y-yes...YES SIR!" She spoke so loudly that her voice echoed in the empty store. She sobbed a couple of times, then continued. "THANK YOU FOR PUNISHING ME, SIR!" Her scalp was on fire, her ass...her...oh god, her pussy was literally throbbing, she could feel it! Then, before she knew what she was saying she burst out, "PLEASE PUNISH ME SOME MORE, SIR!"
If he'd had any remaining doubts about her sexual nature, they were eradicated by her surprising plea. He'd been a little unsure about how she'd take those first couple of blows—they were delivered at about eighty percent of his strength, hard enough to slam her hips forward into the padded bench. The skin on her ass was already glowing a lovely shade of red. But she was enjoying it—glorying in it, even. She looked so incredibly sexual right now. Her eyes were closed so that her long lashes fanned out over her cheeks; her head was drawn back by his grip on her hair, exposing the smooth lines of her throat and accentuating the slave collar she wore; her breasts with their swollen tips were thrust forward as her back arched. There were little beads of sweat at her hairline. His innocent little submissive—she was lost in pleasure as he punished her.
He released her hair, taking a step back for better aim. "You greedy slut!" he growled, a touch of humor in his voice, but she didn't notice it, too busy absorbing the blow that followed his words. And then another, before she'd managed to choke out a thank you. As she started to gasp out the words, he swatted her again, and she lost her breath. Finally he paused and she cried out, "Thank you, sir, thank you thank you!" She didn't know if he was counting, but Marie wasn't taking any chances.
He dropped the paddle and put his hands on her ass cheeks, feeling the heat of her skin. He ran his fingernails lightly over them and watched her struggle in her bonds, her feet flexing helplessly. "Tell me you're my slut," he ordered, his voice roughened by his burgeoning arousal. He looked at her asshole, exposed and surrounded by the bright red skin of her ass. He eased his thumb into it, unable to resist.
Marie moaned at the invasion, her ass clamping down on his thumb as her pussy clenched involuntarily, grabbing at the empty air. She'd die if he didn't fuck her. "God, yes, I'm your slut, Sir, I'm your slut!" She almost screamed the last words. "Please, please fuck me! Oh, fuck me, Sir, PLEASE!" She pictured him standing behind her, between her helplessly spread thighs, looking at her, casually raping her ass with his hand. She heard him unzipping his pants again and strained against the strap, trying to push her ass back towards him in invitation.
He positioned his cock, leaned over her and got a grip on her hair again. "Don't you dare come," he snarled close to her ear, then drove into her in one hard thrust.
It was impossible. Marie screamed as his cock filled her all at once and she tumbled into the most intense orgasm of her life. Her body thrashed against her restraints as of she were having a seizure or receiving a huge electrical shock. She screamed again and again. It was too much and it went on, wave after wave, for so long that she was almost afraid that he had somehow triggered an endless orgasm; that she would continue to come like this until she died from it.
He held himself perfectly still, his hands resting lightly on her hips as she jerked and gasped and screamed beneath him. He had been reasonably sure that she would be unable to stop herself from coming, given how utterly, mindlessly aroused she was—which was why he had told her not to, of course. But he was slightly shocked by the how quickly it had happened and by the incredible intensity of her orgasm.
Eventually, though, she settled beneath him and became still. Her breath, still coming in sobs at first, slowly quieted and her head hung down as if she had fainted. Only then did he withdraw his now somewhat softened erection and stand. He tucked himself back into his pants and closed them up again.
He stood for a moment looking down at Marie, pinned like a butterfly on the bench. His. He leaned down and, even though he was fairly sure she wouldn't feel it, placed a tender kiss at the base of her spine before turning and walking out of the room, returning moments later with a cup of water.
He walked to the front of the bench, where she still lay only semi-conscious, her head lolling slowly back and forth, her sweat-soaked hair hanging in limp strands around it. He let her rest a little longer, waiting until she showed signs of stirring before seizing her hair again, lifting her head up and dashing the water into her face.