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I swallowed another whimper and fitted my stomach and thighs against the wooden structure. The bar pressed between my pussy lips as I straddled it. Fort checked to see if it was snug enough, then tsked. I was so wet.
“I think you liked my idea about the naughty cream,” he said.
“No, Sir. Please—”
He swatted my butt, parted my pussy lips, and ratcheted the bar up another notch. “I can go higher if I need to,” he said. “I can force you onto your toes.”
I shook my head, for all the good it did me. Any movement pressed my tender pubic area against the hard bar between my legs, and once he applied the stinging cream…
I took deep breaths as he strapped me down tight. Wrist cuffs made my arms reach high, ankle cuffs spread my feet below.Ow, ow, the bar, my pussy…
He bound my stomach against the front of the cross with a belt around my middle, cinching that tight as well. His cock poked against me as he worked, but he wouldn’t take me yet, not until I was tearful and marked.
He stepped back, taking a few moments to appreciate my helplessness as I stood in my bonds. I was pinned to the cross like a butterfly, my pussy hurting now, instead of my asshole. I leaned my head back, feeling my loose curls slide across my shoulders. I heard the snick of a cap and the rustle of a latex glove. Lube? God, I wished it were lube. No, it was the stinging cream.
He applied it right in the middle of each cheek, small smears that he rubbed in with gentle fingers. The first time he’d done it, I’d thought,oh, this is nothing.Now I knew better.
He put the cream away and took off the latex glove, then produced the strap, giving each of my thighs a series of slaps while he waited for the cream to heat on my skin. Each slap made me jerk, pressing the bar against my slit. My clit felt swollen and hot—and not all from pain. I bucked against the front of the cross as the heat increased, but I couldn’t touch my clit to anything, which was by design. I’d receive no relief until the punishment was through—and if I didn’t take my punishment well, I’d receive no relief at all, no orgasm permitted. Too horrible to think about.
My ass was heating up in earnest now, and Fort commenced strapping me on my burning bottom. I cried out at each stroke, then twitched and tensed in agony as he made me wait for the next.
“Oh, God,” I gasped, bouncing on the bar. “It hurts. It hurts.”
But it wasn’t enough for it to hurt, not for either of us. He strapped me until I squealed, and then screamed, and then broke down in tears of supplication. It wasn’t that the strokes got any harder or more unbearable. No, it was just that they continued falling, and my ass got hotter and hotter, and I couldn’t move or escape or do anything but beg and cry.
Whack.Pause.Whack.Pause.Whack.Please, please, please.
I bobbed on my toes, ignoring the ache in my pussy, wishing only for this to end so I could get away. When my begging tapered off and I broke down to only crying, he relented and put the strap away. He pulled my hair back, nuzzling my tears.
“Does your ass burn now, baby?”
“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, Sir.” The strapping had ended, but the naughty cream ensured that the sting went on and on.
“I’m going to let you go now. Tell me the rule.”
“No touching my bottom.”
“That’s right. No matter what. You don’t want that cream getting on your fingers because it might end up somewhere very, very bad. And if it ends up somewhere bad on me, what happens to you?”
“The chastity belt,” I whispered.
“That’s right. The chastity belt, and no orgasms all week.”
He undid my bonds and I clasped my hands in front of me with the effort not to reach back and soothe the sting. If I could paint what my ass felt like, it would literally be an entire canvas of flames. “I hate the naughty cream,” I said, wiping away my tears. “I really, really hate it.”
He smiled at me. “I know, baby. That’s why I use it a lot. Now, let’s get you to the table so I can fuck your ass. Go on. Crawl up there. Lie on your back.”
Our sex table was a re-purposed medical table with attachment points of just about every type. Tonight, he pulled my arms up and cuffed them over my head. It was merciful, because then I couldn’t lose control and try to rub the pain off my ass. My waist was buckled down near the other end of the table so my ass hung off the edge, the better for him to fuck me. My legs were left flailing in my flower-cuffed socks. So much for romance. He gripped my thighs and held them open, his heavy cock falling down against my sore pussy.
“I bet you’d like me in here,” he said, slapping his cock against my folds. “You want my cock in your nice, wet pussy?”
I lay helpless as he pressed halfway in. My clit zinged to life, ready for his touch, ready to come. I bucked my hips, but he only pulled back out. “It would be too easy for you to come like that,” he said. “When are you allowed to come? When’s the only time you’re allowed to come, baby?”
“With something in my ass,” I said, sniffling.
“Yes, that’s our rule, isn’t it? Do you want to come?”
I nodded.Yes, yes, yes.My ass burned. My clit throbbed. I needed release, needed all this pain to come together and make sense.
