The Cabin Ch. 03

I tongued the moist strip of scarf between my teeth as Adrian's footsteps thudded across the floor behind me. My kneecaps ached from stooping on the hardwood and I longed to slouch but he'd given me strict instructions: Kneel at the foot of the bed with your back arched and hands clasped behind your neck. Don't move. He'd left me there for almost ten minutes, staring at the cream-colored dust ruffle, before returning with an armful of objects. I didn't dare raise my eyes or turn my head as he set them down, one by one, onto the dresser; I figured I'd know soon enough.

"Oh, Aubrey, you were doing so well."

My face flushed and my stomach knotted. I should've known better than to take advantage of Adrian's arousal but his cock was hard between my legs and practically begging to be enveloped, not to mention the fact that he'd been tormenting me with it all afternoon, even going so far as to pleasure himself in front of me and on me. Still, I was mortified. One would think considering the amount of research I'd done and all of the BDSM scenes I'd written that I'd have a better grasp on what it took to be a good submissive. At the same time, I had to admit that a perverse part of me was curious, even excited to find out what he had in store for us.

"As it happens, I was already planning on giving your ass a decent beating tonight as part of your regular training."

My inner muscles tightened at the thought of his wide palms striking me. However, I was also aware of the very real possibility that the fantasy might prove to be more intense than I'd envisioned—like everything else that'd occurred since Adrian's arrival. What if I couldn't handle it?

"However," he continued. "After that stunt you pulled in the bath, I have no reservations about making you pay thoroughly for your disobedience."

Adrian sauntered up behind me and laid his hand atop my head, smoothing my damp hair. He was naked and, more than likely, still erect. As difficult as it was, I kept my eyes pointed downward, my chest pert.

"Stand."

I struggled to my feet, grateful for the opportunity to stretch my wobbly legs.

"Bend forward onto the bed," he said. "Then, spread your legs and plant your feet firmly on the floor."

I complied, feeling unnerved and exposed. But damn, I thought. How lovely it would be for him to fuck me like this, from behind, with my face resting against the soft sheets.

Adrian placed a hand on my rump and caressed the pristine expanse of skin that I anticipated would be sore and red-streaked before long. He dragged his fingernails across my cheeks, eliciting goose-bumps.

"I know you're afraid and quite frankly you have good reason to be. Imagining pain isn't the same as enduring it and this is technically your first time. Even so, I will not show undue mercy. You've disobeyed me and must be punished for it."

The sting of his first slap was sharp and unexpected but delicious. Part of me yearned to crawl under the bed while the rest of me was eager to remain, feet planted and ass raised high. He spanked me again, this time squeezing upon contact, prolonging the burn. There was no denying that I wanted this—all of it: the anticipation, the impact, the lingering warmth and ultra-sensitivity. I'd fantasized and written about it for almost ten years but had resigned myself to the notion that it would always remain an illicit daydream, a scene to be played out in my mind's eye but never experienced.

Adrian massaged me, smoothing out the tender flesh before coming down hard, first on one side and then the other. He continued in this way with his wide palms and long fingers until my skin grew hot. I whimpered and flinched with each forceful blow but couldn't ignore the throbbing behind my clitoris or my aching cunt. I closed my eyes and attempted to breathe deeply through the cocktail of sensations.

"Your skin is responding beautifully," he said, caressing me. Adrian ceased his assault and padded across the room to the dresser.

I savored the brief respite as he sorted through through the objects he'd collected from the house, listening to the chorus of mysterious items clinking and clacking against one another. His footsteps advanced towards the bed and I detected a familiar scent from that afternoon: butter and onions. I opened my eyes to find the wooden spoon Adrian had used to sauté home fries dangling in front of my face, slick with grease and flecked with bits of caramelized onion and potato. My stomach gurgled and saliva began to accumulate along the strip of scarf in my mouth.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I'm quite peckish myself." He withdrew the utensil.

My legs quaked as the wooden spoon made contact. The sting was highly concentrated and heightened by the fact that I was already tender. I cried out as he hit me twice, three times, four.

"Yes, I'd like you to continue counting to ten—out loud."

"Fife." The word came out muffled around the saliva-soaked gag.

He struck me, the back of the spoon sending currents of pain throughout my right leg.

"Sith." I tensed as the spoon smacked against my left cheek.

"Sethen." My fingers gripped the bedding. I bit down hard as his next blow landed on the back of my thigh.

"E-it!" I wriggled my pelvis into the mattress which only encouraged him to strike harder. He placed a hand at the base of my spine.

"Nine!" I cried out as the spoon made contact with the same patch of battered skin. Tears brimmed and seeped from my eyes as I struggled to control my breathing.

"T– ah!"

Adrian's final assault landed on the lips of my cunt, provoking a high-pitched scream. He moved closer, his erection resting against my hip as he slid the spoon further between my legs, tapping it against my clitoris.

"I think I'll have a quick bite," he said, tossing the spoon onto the comforter beside me. Adrian grasped my waist and pulled me back a few steps, dropping to a sitting position between my legs with his back against the bedframe.

"Wha?—ah!" I cried out as he dragged his warm, wide tongue across my slit.

"Delicious."

He lapped at my tender flesh, cleaning the grease and bits of food from my enflamed folds. I moaned and wriggled as he slipped the tip of his tongue between my lips to flutter against my clitoris before thrusting his tongue inside me and feasting on my juices. He scratched me with his fingernails as he explored my depths, drawing them down over my buttocks and onto the backs of my thighs. The tip of his nose brushed against my clitoris and the muscles in my cunt spasmed. I felt an orgasm stirring.

Adrian pulled away. Sliding out from under me, he came to kneel before my upturned buttocks. I whimpered as he scraped his teeth over my bruises, cleansing my skin of grease and potato and onion particles. His palms gripped my hips, holding me steady as he licked and nibbled, first at the right cheek, then the left.

"That should tide me over till dinner," he said, chuckling.

Adrian sauntered over to the dresser, returning a few seconds later. I heard an airy "whoop" as he whipped what sounded like a fly swatter through the air and onto my reddened ass. The flimsy plastic square covered more surface area which should've made it a milder weapon compared to the wooden spoon, but with my skin already maltreated it felt like he'd taken a belt to it—oh God, I thought, please, not that.

Each flippant slap of the fly swatter left me sobbing into the blankets.

"So melodramatic," he said. "Should I feel sorry for you?"

I panted. "N-no."

"And why is that?"

"B-ahh." My words were indecipherable around the gag. Because I deserve it for disobeying you, I thought.

"Correct."

Adrian laid the swatter on the bed near my face where it could mock me and paused for a few moments to stroke my tender skin. His fingertips felt like metal prongs that had been held over an open flame but his touch was so delicate and controlled that I was able to relish it. He reached between my legs and ran his fingers over my slit, the sensations of pleasure and pain intermingling. I found my hips swaying back and forth enthusiastically in spite of my suffering. I still wanted him and if this was the price I had to pay to have his cock inside me, I'd gladly take a hundred more lashings.

"Is that so? Well, in that case–"

I whimpered. Fuck.

Adrian returned to the dresser and lifted something heavy from the wooden surface. I braced myself, expectant.

"Relax," he commanded.

Something wide and flat came down hard on my right cheek. I shrieked, chancing a glance back to find Adrian holding a white, plastic, paddle-shaped cutting board that I recognized as having come from the kitchen. He glared at me and shoved my head back down onto the bed.

Again, he struck me, the smack echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Tears streamed onto the sheets as I wailed behind the scarf. His blows were unrelenting, occurring twice, sometimes three times in a row on the same side. I couldn't think. My mind reeled as I struggled to weather the beating, to accept my punishment without further incident.

"Don't forget to breathe."

All of my muscles were tense with anticipation, causing my lower back to spasm with each blow. After twenty smacks with the cutting board, Adrian ceased, once again taking the time to caress my unbearably tender skin. I winced as the sting of his touch rippled through me, my legs trembling. He stepped away, taking the spoon, fly swatter and cutting board with him. I was practically delirious with pain but I knew that if I reached between my legs I would most definitely find myself dripping with enthusiasm.

Adrian came up behind me and placed a hand on my hip. "Crawl forward onto the bed and then turn over, knees apart, feet together, hands clasped behind your head."

My knees slipped out from under me a few times before I managed to pull myself further onto the mattress. I moved in slow motion, flipping over and cringing as my ass made contact with the goose down comforter, soft as it was. Adrian was standing by the dresser, surveying the assortment of items he'd collected. I noticed his bag and clothing folded on the rocking chair and bristled with alarm at the realization that I did not, in fact, see his belt among them.

Adrian turned to face me, his expression playful, yet ominous. In his right hand, he clutched his black leather belt. I shuddered at the sight of it: thick, slightly worn, and folded in half. He ambled over to me, running a long, lean hand across my inner thighs, spread wide per his instructions.

"Your skin is delectably smooth and soft," he said, pinching me. "I think it could use a bit more character."

I flinched as Adrian brought the belt down on the sensitive flesh of my left inner thigh—a light smack. He was holding back, teasing me.

Adrian swiped at my other thigh, this time closer to my cunt and in spite of the fact that I knew it would only get worse, I was highly aroused, craving the next blow, relishing the way his gaze lingered upon my exposed sex. I whimpered as he tapped my clitoris with the folded tip of the belt.

The next time Adrian hit me he did not hold back. I shrieked as the leather made swift contact with my right thigh, leaving a distinct red stripe. Barely a few seconds passed before he whipped me again, on the opposite side—a mirror image of pain. He continued, moving further away from my cunt with each blow, leaving a trail of red welts as he went. I clenched my eyes shut and threw my head back as the beating sent currents of agony shooting throughout my lower body. Every now and then, Adrian would glide his fingers over the marks, admiring his handiwork as though he were crafting an ornate sigil or brand.

Without warning, he brought the belt down hard upon my clitoris. I screamed, my legs slamming shut. Adrian grasped my knees and yanked them apart, his stare menacing.

"Don't let that happen again," he said.

I nodded, tears brimming at the lingering sting of Adrian's assault. He licked his fingertips and placed them over my clitoris, massaging it in circular motions, the sensation a bewildering combination of pleasure and pain.

As he stimulated me, he resumed his attack on my thighs. The juxtaposition of his delicate ministrations alongside the violence was more intense than I'd ever imagined it could be. I had spanked myself with a hairbrush on occasion to gain some perspective of what it might feel like to be beaten, mostly so that I could write about it with a smidgen of authenticity, but nothing I had attempted on my own could've prepared me for the real thing. I wept uncontrollably, the scarf soaked with spittle as tears streamed down my temples, my fingernails digging into the back of my scalp. I was caught between the instinctive urge to run and hide from the pain and the sick, twisted need to lie there and take it.

Although his caresses were subtle, I could feel an orgasm mounting. The gentle, teasing strokes only made me want to come faster, harder. Adrian switched hands to allow himself to balance the welt count between my thighs, giving my cunt another thwap for good measure.

I raised my head to look at him, transfixed by the sight of his fevered expression and pink-tinged erection protruding towards me. Don't you want to fuck me? I thought.

Adrian's eyes met mine and I deduced that it was taking every ounce of control he had to stick to whatever plan he'd laid out in his mind. He brought the belt down with such force that I had to break eye contact, though I did feel him pressing harder on my clitoris.

Please, I thought, let me come this time.

His fingers circled faster as he dragged the belt across my inner thighs, skimming the fresh welts and setting my legs on fire. Adrian leaned over to kiss my breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and toying with it, sending delicious jolts of pleasure downward. I felt the head of his cock embedded in my thigh crease, the muscles tightening in my cunt, and the build-up of pressure behind my clitoris as I let myself go, allowing Adrian to bring me to yet another clima–

Adrian yanked his fingers away as he reared back and belted my cunt. I screamed, biting down on the scarf and struggling to keep my legs open as he whipped me, twice, three, four times. The pain was excruciating and yet, in spite of it, I felt myself coming.

He thrust two fingers into me and proceeded to finger-fuck my slick depths as he bent down to lap at my intolerably sensitive nub. I convulsed, clawing at my scalp, my orgasm rippling through me in deliberate, successive throbs in time with each moist, delicate stroke and forceful stab. I wanted to reach between my legs and bury my fingers in his hair, to press myself against his mouth and make him suck my clitoris, but I refrained. Adrian had taken charge of my body as though he were my puppet master and I, his desperate plaything and I knew there would be no further outbursts, no unsolicited advances without his express permission.

I whined as he withdrew his hands and mouth, my insides aching to be pummeled by something longer and thicker than his fingers. I let my head collapse onto the mattress, my chest heaving with each labored breath. Adrian planted a delicate kiss upon my clitoris and nibbled at my swollen labia before rising to stand before me, stroking his bright pink–almost purple–erection with one hand and trailing his fingers over the red, glowing stripes on my inner thighs with the other.

"Do you know why I decided to gag you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Taking it upon yourself to slip my cock inside you was reason enough to dole out a harsh punishment but it wasn't the disobedience alone that disappointed. It was your failure to verbalize, to ask for what you wanted. You're used to keeping your desires to yourself, silently praying that your ex-husband would miraculously infer exactly what you needed and give it to you. Now you have a partner who is determined to entertain your every twisted, depraved whim and you refuse to voice them. Thus, I have revoked that privilege so that you might come to realize its merit."

I winced as Adrian groped my welts before sauntering over to the dresser. I followed him with my gaze, appreciating the view of his taut back and rounded buttocks. He strummed his fingers against the dark wood before selecting a small tub of moisturizer from amongst the various torture devices. I recognized it from my bag of toiletries: aloe and shae butter with essential almond oil.

Adrian turned towards me. "Roll onto your front and crawl further onto the bed."

Obeying his orders with what little energy I could muster, I let my face sink into the cream-colored pillow. Adrian's footsteps drew near and then I felt his weight upon the mattress as he eased my legs apart and placed himself between them.

He smeared the lotion across my buttocks and thighs, his wide palms kneading the malleable tissue; it felt cold and soothing against my hot, accosted flesh. I sighed into the bed, exhaling completely before drawing an even deeper breath. Adrian dipped his hands between my thighs, just barely brushing my outer labia. I raised my rump slightly as he raked his slippery fingertips over my bruises, still sore yet appreciative.

Adrian spread the lotion to my hips and outer thighs, massaging the tightness from them. Unable to craft coherent thoughts, I focused my attention upon his ministrations. As tender as my ass was, I relished the way his long, lean fingers roved over my cheeks as well as the cooling effect of the aloe as it seeped into my pores. I drifted.

He ran his palms up my back, over my shoulders, and down my arms. I moaned into the pillow as he smoothed the lotion upward along my flank and onto the sides of my breasts. He eased my legs further apart with his knees, drawing his hands down my back and over my buttocks to tickle my inner thighs. I laughed, my tongue brushing the spit-soaked scarf, until I felt the head of his cock against my cunt. Adrian fluttered his fingertips along the backs of my legs, slipping the tip of his erection between my labia. It took everything I had to remain still, white-knuckling the bedding as he prodded me.

"Turn over," he commanded.

I wriggled onto my back, spreading my legs wide before his erection as a droplet of pre-cum oozed from the glistening tip onto the beige comforter. I glanced down at my thighs, fascinated by the red welt mosaic splayed across my usually smooth, pale skin. Staring at it, I felt a measure of validation, like I was finally practicing what I'd been silently preaching for the last ten years. Adrian scooped a bit of lotion from the container and divided it between his palms. He massaged my legs, sliding his hands agonizingly close to my cunt before drawing them back towards my knees.

"You wear these marks well."

"Mmm." I whimpered, gnawing at the scarf.

Adrian dabbed a bit of lotion onto my stomach, spreading it between my navel and pubic mound before smearing it upward. He leaned forward as his fingertips grazed the undersides of my breasts, his cock bobbing against my slit. I whined as he squeezed and pinched my nipples, groping my breasts with greater enthusiasm as beads of sweat dripped down from his hairline, his lips pouting below his furrowed brow. I reached for his face, tracing his cheekbones with my fingers and then burying them in his lush, black hair. Adrian sighed and allowed his eyes to close for a moment before rising up onto his haunches, fingernails biting into my thighs.

"Do you want my cock inside you?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

I nodded fervently.

"I can't quite hear you, darling."