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I knew he would fuck me for as long as he could, in order to punish my tender asshole the maximum amount, but he was also keyed up from hurting me, which might expedite matters. I could only ride it out, and hope…
After only a few minutes, the excruciating, rough penetration slowed. My hopes for respite were answered as he groaned, flattening his hips to my ass. One thrust, another, and he came inside me, grinding against my tender, scarlet flesh.
I gasped, clenching around his cock. It still hurt, yes, but now it was over. He ran his hands up my back in a mine, all mine gesture. It felt so good, but so bad.
I shuddered. I was his, for better or worse.
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Chapter 4
Price
My poor, wrung-out baby. I stroked her back a slow minute to feel her trembles and shudders radiating through her spine into my fingertips. My cock was still jammed in her ass. She knew not to move until I told her to.
I finally pulled out, and took another slow minute to inspect her red, striped ass cheeks. She was coming back into herself, coming down from the pain-induced mania I’d caused. It was nothing she hadn’t endured before. She’d survived worse. Our dynamic was tied up in taunting and torment. And love. Of course, love.
I loved her so much. That was my mania, going on six years now.
“I hope you learned a goddamned lesson from all this,” I said, guiding her from the bench to her knees.
“Yes, sir.” She gave me a look. “Maybe too much of a lesson.”
I lifted her to her feet and drew her against me. “Being a smart ass? Really? Already?” My hand crept to her neck and tightened there. “If needed, we can start your punishment over again.”
“No, please.”
She melted at my force, gazing at me in entreaty. She sometimes liked to poke to get a reaction, to be sure I’d force her back into line. She’d been poking with greater frequency since we’d married, like she was sussing out the parameters. I’d have to do something about that.
Later.
For now, she’d had enough. I could see it in her tired features, her wan expression. I could feel it in the way she sagged against me.
“Go wash yourself off,” I said, steering her back to the bedroom. “No more than twenty minutes in the shower, then go to the guest room.”
She obeyed, walking ahead of me, her gorgeous, marked ass the sole focus of my attention until she disappeared into the bathroom. While she showered, I prepared the chastity belt she typically wore after punishments, affixing a large dildo to the leather base to fill up her pussy, as well as a lubed plug to go in her ass. That done, I went to the kitchen to get her more water and her long-awaited dose of ibuprofen.
She took the medicine gratefully when we reconvened in the guest bedroom but accepted the chastity belt less gratefully. Well, rules were rules. She slept in the guest room after punishments and wore the belt of shame in her naughty little holes. I buckled the belt a little less tightly than usual, my only mercy to her in the course of this punishment.
“Just a nap,” I told her. “You can sleep for three hours, then you need to get up and eat something. Your stomach should be settled by then.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Along with my headache. And my ass-ache.”
“Your ass-ache,” I repeated, chuckling inwardly even as I frowned at her. “You brought that on yourself.”
I kissed her forehead and sent her to bed, then retreated to my home office. I felt energized, having thoroughly enjoyed the punishment session myself. The early morning’s worry and anger had faded, replaced with satisfaction at the way she’d accepted the consequences of her careless behavior. My good girl. My sweet girl. Her heart breaks in a smile—and she is Lust...
That was the first poetry I’d shared with her, from E. E. Cumming’s A Chorus Girl. It came to my mind sometimes when I least expected it, notwithstanding the baggage it carried. It was part of our history, the glorious times and the bad.
I jotted down a different poem for her, a less fraught one, to give her when she woke up, then turned on my computer. Our time in the dungeon had spawned a new idea, a kinky scene Chere would both love and hate. Mostly hate. Hmm.
It would take some planning to make it happen. Planning, and a little bit of construction. I opened my drafting software and started making notes.
* * *
Chapter 5
Chere
