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Reaching down, he pulled the naked girl to her feet. She shrank back from him, but he held her fast, his fingers easily spanning her upper arm. “Don’t even think about resisting,” he said sternly, barely able to contain his excitement. “You’ll just make your punishment all the worse.”
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t do this. I didn’t know—”
This insolence needed to be nipped in the bud. He cut her off with a smart slap across her cheek. “No speaking unless spoken to, cunt,” he snapped.
She drew in a sharp, startled breath as her hand flew to her cheek. She blinked back tears, but wisely kept her mouth shut.
He replaced the choke collar around her neck, leash still attached, and re-cuffed her wrists, this time behind her back. Her cheek where he’d struck her was a bright pink. He couldn’t wait to turn her behind an even darker red.The villa was laid out with the kitchen, living areas and two bedrooms on the first floor. The second floor consisted of a single large room with an attached bathroom. It was set up as a kind of play room, including a pool table and wet bar. There was a conversational arrangement of sofas and chairs near the large picture window. It looked out over the Pacific Ocean just past the property.
Earlier in the week on one of his pre-abduction visits, he’d modified the space for his own purposes. He couldn’t wait to show his new slave girl what he’d done.
He led her out of the master suite and to the spiral stairway. He walked up the stairs, tugging Callie along by her leash to the top. He stopped just inside the room, giving her a chance to take it all in.
He’d covered the pool table with a waterproof mattress protector, a sheet over that. He’d knotted rope to each of the four legs so he could tie her down in various positions on the makeshift bondage table. His BDSM gear was laid out neatly along the bar counter. This included a nice selection of whips, paddles, canes, cuffs, clips, ball gags and blindfolds, along with various dildos and vibrators, plus a large tube of lube. The punishment cage—the biggest dog crate he could find at the local pet supply store—waited in a corner.
In pride of place in the center of the room was the portable St. Andrew’s cross he’d brought along on his last visit. The support leg at the back of the cross was hinged, allowing the whole thing to fold flat. The two arms of the cross were secured together with wing-nut bolts, allowing for quick and easy assembly and break-down. The cross had four upper restraint rings and two lower ankle rings.
Callie would be spending plenty of time on that cross, but not yet. Her first punishment would be a good, old-fashioned spanking.
“Nice, huh?” he said, puffing with pride as Callie stared around the space in open-mouthed awe.
She didn’t respond, but as he’d intended the question to be rhetorical, he didn’t reprimand her. Instead, he led her over to the large couch and sat. Gripping her leash close to the collar, he pulled her down and over his knees.
She fell against him, unable to break her fall since her wrists were cuffed behind her. He steadied her with a firm hand on the back of her neck as he positioned her. Removing the leash, he dropped it on the carpet, deciding to leave the chain collar in place. He arranged her so her ass was over his thighs, her upper body extended along the sofa, her legs trapped between his.
“This is what happens to bad girls,” he informed her, punctuating his words with a resounding smack.
Predictably, she squealed, squirming on his lap.
“Stay still,” he commanded, “and take what’s coming to you.” He gripped the back of her neck hard, holding her in place with her face pressed into the couch. Then he smacked her again.
Once more, she cried out, the sound muffled by the cushions. She tried to cover her ass with her bound hands. He smacked her hands away and struck her again with a cupped palm.
Holding her in place, he swatted her bottom until every inch of it was a deep red. He could have insisted she remain quiet, but he rather liked her breathy cries and yelps. They made his cock harden all the more beneath her.
Eventually, she stopped struggling, though she continued to whimper. When his hand started to tire, and he was satisfied she’d had enough, he unclipped her wrist cuffs and flipped her over.
Her cheeks were flushed and streaked with tears. Now that her wrists were no longer bound together, she covered her face with her hands. His eyes traveled down her body. Her breasts were so pretty—like cupcakes on her chest, the nipples like cherries at their centers. Her body tapered nicely at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, her newly denuded cunt pooching like an offering, ripe for plunder.
