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I drag my knuckles over her cheek, and she moves her face.
"Wrong move, pet," I state, then lift a hook from the bar and lock her collar to it.
She inhales deeply, jerks her head, but it goes nowhere. A new, beautiful look of terror crosses her face.
"It's time for your punishment," I inform her, then go to the wall and study the shelf. I choose a gold, hands-free vibrator. It's egg-shaped with two tentacles. I slip the remote into my pocket and return to Blakely, placing it over her clit and then securing the tentacles against her labia. Once I'm confident it's secure, I hit the button on the side of the contraption that's restraining her.
The front of the bar lowers, moving forward until her upper body's suspended in the air, lower than her ass. I grab a brown cowhide flogger and drag the tails over her spine, then underneath her, teasing her nipples.
Her breath hitches. A slight arch forms in her back.
I slide my hand over her ass, longer than normal, reminding myself to watch her body language. There's a point of no return, and I don't ever want to pass it with any sub, but especially not Blakely.
The hairs on her arms rise. I press the remote, and a faint buzz hits my ears.
She clenches her jaw, closing her eyes, taking shallow breaths.
"Eyes stay open, locked on the mirror," I inform her.
She slowly obeys, meeting my gaze with a challenge so fierce I almost come in my pants.
"Not on me. On you," I assert.
She gives me a final glare and refocuses.
I lean over her, kiss her shoulder, then state, "You'll thank me every time the leather hits your body. When I ask you questions, you'll answer them. You'll get your reward when I'm confident you're ready to submit. No coming, or we start all over. It's up to you when this is over and your pleasure begins, understand?"
Her eyes stay focused. She swallows hard, shifts her lower body, and breathes through her nose.
I debate about increasing the speed on her vibrator but decide to hold off. I demand, "Answer me."
"Yes, Sir," she seethes.
"Ah, my little pet. So angry. Is it thoughts of your daddy that make you disobey?" I taunt, running my hand over her inner thigh.
She blinks hard.
"I expect answers," I bark, then step back and administer her first flogging.
She gasps. Her back arches.
I wait, then remind her, "Thank you, Sir." I smack her again.
She scrunches her face. "Thank you, Sir."
I give her five in a row, watching her in the mirror and listening to her tone change. There's still defiance in it but less.
I caress over the red marks on her ass, demanding, "Tell me who you hate."
She closes her eyes briefly, then answers, "My father, Sir."
"And what does he do to you that makes you hate him?" I ask.
She doesn't answer, and I add two flogs.
When she doesn't thank me, I assert, "Did you forget something? Or should I go harder?"
"Thank you, Sir," she quickly says.
