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“Good. Your presumption has earned you ten lashes, and you’ll count each one for me,” I say, unbuckling my belt and slowly, pointedly withdrawing it from my belt loops.
Whitney swallows hard, and she starts to tremble as I fold the belt in half and snap the leather tight.
“Yes, Master,” she breathes belatedly.
Walking around to the back of the chair, I take a moment to study the perfection of her ass on full display, her slick pussy lips, already wet with the anticipation of her punishment, poking out from between her thighs. I fucking love how greedy she is for my cock, but tonight, I plan on pushing her to her limits. Because she’s not here for her pleasure. She’s here to serve mine, and I want to make it perfectly clear that emotions are not part of the arrangement. I can easily withhold her satisfaction if she wants to challenge me.
I know it’s time for her punishment to begin, but after a week away, I can’t restrain myself from stroking my fingers through Whitney’s silky folds. My balls tighten at the feel of just how wet she is for me, and the muted whimper she releases makes me throb with the need to fill her pussy. But tonight, I have other plans. Pulling away, I take a steadying breath, then bring the belt down on her ass with a sharp snap.
Whitney squeals, her hips jerking forward and making the chair scrape across the floor several inches as she fights her restraints. Her eyes are round when she turns to look over her shoulder at me, seeming for the first time to grasp just how angry I am.
“Count,” I bark.
“One,” she stutters. Her eyes press closed as she faces away from me once more.
I don’t pause to assess her response further. Instead, I bring the belt down across her ass a second time, leaving a matching red stripe just below the first.
“Two!” Whitney moans, her jerk less forceful this time, though still hard enough to make the chair protest. She white-knuckles the arms of the chair as I strike her a third time, the number grinding from between her clenched teeth.
And fuck the sound of her strained voice makes me hard. The way her pussy glistens, showing me she’s getting aroused despite the pain. I bring the fourth blow down across the tops of her thighs, catching her pussy just slightly at the same time, and Whitney screams.
“Four,” she sobs, her body trembling harder now. “Five. Six!”
Whitney releases a pained groan that makes me hesitate momentarily as I wonder if it might be beyond her threshold of tolerance. But she hasn’t used the safe word. The leather snaps across her red flesh once again, leaving another a distinct mark.
“Seven,” she cries. “Eight!”
The ninth strike licks across her skin, and a deep groan rises from Whitney’s chest, telling me that through the pain, she’s close to an orgasm.
“You don’t get to come during your punishment tonight, dirty little pet. That’s part of the lesson. You’re here to serve me, to satisfy my needs, and when you displease me, you don’t deserve a reward, do you?”
“No, Master,” Whitney sobs.
I bring the belt down across the top of her thighs once more, and Whitney bucks. “Ten!” she gasps as arousal gushes from her pulsing folds, throbbing with the release I just explicitly forbade her.
I shove my fingers forcefully inside her pussy to confirm her disobedience, and Whitney mewls as she rocks back into my palm, guiding my fingers deeper inside her as she grips me tightly, milking my fingers.
“I told you not to come,” I say flatly as Whitney comes down from her high, her knees buckling as her legs weaken.
“I’m sorry, Master,” she whimpers.
She glances over her shoulder at me, genuine fear flickering across her tearstained face, and I’m surprised to find she’s actually crying. A twinge of unwanted guilt twists my heart, and immediately, my anger rises up to consume the weak emotion.
“If you’re going to disobey me, you’ll just have to try and come with me in your ass,” I threaten darkly.
Whitney pales as her lips part in shock, and her eyes dilate–with fear or anticipation, I can’t be sure. When it comes to anal play, I’ve taken my time with Whitney, wanting to ensure she enjoys each step of the way. I’ve had fun showing her new forms of pleasure, and I like that I’m the one who’s given her all her firsts. It’s enhanced my enjoyment of her considerably. Over the past year, I’ve teased her ass, fingered it, even used anal beads and plugs to help her acclimate to being penetrated, but I haven’t fucked her yet, and usually I warm her up with multiple orgasms and simultaneous clit play when I put anything inside her ass. Not tonight.
Dropping the belt, I grab Whitney’s ass cheeks, kneading the raw flesh as I spread her wide, exposing her puckered hole.
She groans as her eyes well with fresh tears. “Ilya,” she breathes, then bites her lip as she realizes she’s broken character. “I-I mean, Master.”
I release the round, well-muscled cheeks of her ass and lean toward the couch to pick up the toy I had debated using before I decided to make her count her lashes instead.
“Open your mouth,” I command.
Whitney does, and I place the ball gag between her teeth, filling her mouth so she can’t say anything else that might make me think about feelings and attachment. Because if she does, she might dig further into the unwanted weakness that she and Bianka are starting to become in my life. I can’t allow it. I won’t. Buckling the strap firmly in place at the back of her head, I check to make sure it’s snug. Then I walk around behind her once more.
Whitney trembles beneath my touch as I massage her flaming skin, stroking across the raised ridges of her flesh before undoing my jeans and pulling out my cock.
