To Tame a Wagging Tongue

With her mouth indisposed, it is left to her eyes to ask me the question. It is clear enough regardless.

"Yes, darling. Time for another lesson," I say, looking down. Set against the crimson sheets on which she lies, the sight is striking, her perfect vulnerable nudity broken only by the glints of her piercings and the heavy solidity of the leather straps at her wrists and ankles. Thick clips secure each pair of cuffs and chains lead to anchors at the headboard and foot of the bed. And, of course, the gag, bright red rubber ball standing out against the deep plum of her lipstick, black leather straps sliding out of sight under her tousled hair.

"Your tongue has gotten you into rather some trouble this time, lovely," I continue. The iron in my voice sets her hips to shifting in what could be fear, could be anticipation. The goosebumps rising up along her thighs and upper arms do nothing to clarify which. Both, I wager.

"It has been wagging when it should not, and held when it should be heard." I punctuate the sentence with a slap of the flogger across my palm. She jumps guiltily at the sound. "You have been a bad girl, haven't you?" The shake of her head and her frantically wide eyes are so eloquent that I can almost hear the protests that would be flooding out if her mouth were free. I snap the flogger once more and she freezes, eyes still wide.

"Then I will explain," I say kindly and the flogger snaps out to lick across her ribs. The little flogger is all bark and little bite, thongs of soft kidskin with knots tied in each tip so that they have any weight at all. Yet it lands with a satisfying smack, and that is enough to start, and enough to raise her back up from the soft sheets.

"Three times, lovely," and the flogger falls again, again, again, pink now shading the skin of her ribs, "You have cum without my permission." The guilt is hot in her eyes again, but with it is relief- she knew what she had done, and that I do not forget.

"That is, of course, the lesser sin," I say and the flogger is stilled. Puzzlement looks up at me. I sigh. "You have spoken of that which you did not ask permission to speak." I lean in close, until my lips are at her ear. "If you're going to tell your friend intimate details of our games, I expect you to ask me first."

I straighten up beside her and twist the flogger into motion, now licking out continually, and its coverage widens, now striking her stomach, landing across her breasts, moving down to land across her thighs. No single impact is more than jarring, but they accumulate steadily, slight pink lines blending into a solid color.

When I judge that she is ready, I still the flogger and replace it on the small shelf beside the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, breathing heavily in the sudden stillness, and something else slaps against my hand, its weight being tested. Satisfied, I slip it into place behind my belt.

"We will begin with the lesser punishment," I say as I unclip her cuffed hands from the headboard, following suit with her cuffed feet. A firm grip on her hips flips her over before that same grip pulls upward, knees tucked under her and cheek pressed tight against a crimson pillow. My fingers slip through her hair to open the gag's latch and it joins the flogger on the side table.

"Twenty-five, I think, for each of your three errors, darling," I say thoughtfully from above. "You will count each stroke and thank me for each fifteen. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir!" She replies an instant before the paddle lands for the first time, pushing her cheek against the pillow.

"One!" She cries out. The first fifteen go quickly and her thanks is clear, and the same at thirty. At forty-five the thanks is muffled by her gasps but clear enough. Sixty she misses entirely but I am kind and pause in the rhythm until the absence snaps her into awareness to gabble her thanks. The final fifteen are slower, heavier, and on the final blow, I hold the paddle upraised, letting her twitch in response to the impact that doesn't land.

Another heartbeat passes, and another, and her hips are are shifting back and forth, pushing forward to find completion until I take mercy, bringing it down for the final stroke.

"Seventy-five, sir, thank you sir," She says and there is a shading of tears in her hitching voice. I run a soothing hand along the reddened curve of her ass, feeling the heat rising from her most secret places.

"Very well done, darling," I say encouragingly. "The lesser punishment is complete. Are you ready for the greater?" She pauses a moment, the soft rasp of my hand along her sore ass and her breathing the only sounds.

"Yes, sir," she says at last in a small voice. She doesn't see my smile above her, but she feels the strong hands flip her over once more, tenderized nerves screaming at the brush of the silken sheets. Her hands are bound to the head board once more, but her feet I draw apart, ankles to corner posts, legs left wide open and helpless.

The paddle goes to the side table as well, replaced by the last of my tools for the evening: her favorite toy, the magic wand. I nestle its bulbous head against her clit but leave it inactive as I explain what awaits her.

"A secret shared is sacred; it is certainty itself. In knowing that my secrets are safe with you as yours are safe with me, I have certainty. I know what's... Coming." A click to activate the vibe on its lowest intensity. I pause meaningfully.

"But without that certainty..." The vibe is increased a notch and I shake my head. "What is there? And so tonight, you will be without certainty." The worry in her eyes is fogged with the pleasure of the vibe. Another click upward and I let it work for a few dozen heartbeats. "Are you close, darling?" She nods.

"And do you know what you need to say?"

"Please, sir, may I come?" She asks immediately, lips and eyes wet.

"Wrong." The vibe vanishes away.

"What? I mean, I-" My finger on her lips stills her protests.

"Tonight, that is wrong. There is indeed a phrase that will let you come. I'm just not telling you what it is." The vibe goes back to its work, back at a lower setting. I watch closely, reading the rising tension in her taut muscles as I click upward through its levels, the rising whine of its buzzing guiding her upward, her teeth tight on her lower lip.

"Try again."

"Th-thank you for this lesson, sir?"

"A good try, but no." And away the vibe slips again. She manages to stifle a snarl. I wait, meeting her furious glare with calm eyes. When I judge that she's moved away from her peak, I press the vibe back into place and hold it, watching the jumping muscle at the corner of her clenched jaw. Click... Click... Click. Her eyes go distant and I judge it time.

"Again."

"I- I-" The vibe still buzzing away is clearly not helping her concentration. "Please just let me cum, sir!" The vibe moves away yet again and her sound of need is primal, her hips straining to follow the retreating toy, the headboard creaking at her pull. I return it more quickly this time, giving her no time to catch her breath, but turned again to a lower setting.

There is a whimpering mixed in with the hitching of her breath, every exhalation a tiny whine of need. I take my time clicking it upward, step by step, and her eyes are as tight-clenched as her jaw, beads of sweat dappling her brow.

"Again," I say relentlessly. The heat of her struggle rises from her almost visibly, the need to cum, the need to obey. Her eyes snap open and there is a startling clarity now, gone beyond the clouds of pleasure to a purely focused need. When she speaks, though her breath is still uneven, the words are perfectly clear.

"I haaaaaave learneddddd my lessssson, sssssssiiiirrrr," she grinds out and I smile.

"I believe you have, darling," I say and rather than move away again the vibe clicks to its highest setting as I lean down and kiss her deeply. She is soft and sweet with the taste of desire and she thrashes under me, lips parting, a scream pouring into my mouth. I breath it in, accepting every part of her release.

As she stills, I draw the vibe away, shut it down and put it aside, even as our lips remain locked. I know her bonds as well as my own hands and they are unclipped in seconds, freeing her arms and legs to wrap around me where I lie beside her, stroking her hair and murmuring reassuring nothings as the tremors of aftershock fade gradually.

"You forgive me?" I expect that it's the first time she trusts her voice, though the tremble still in it warms me.

"Always," I say and kiss her forehead through the mess of now-tangled hair that tickles my nostrils. "Always, darling."

SLH

Thanks most kindly for reading, friends, and if this gave you a nice little thrill, I'd be delighted to hear about it.