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“Tell me again how long it’s been that you’ve needed this, Gemma.”
She cried out at a particularly vicious stroke and had to grip the bed sheets. “Weeks, Sir.” Her voice wavered with unshed tears, but she was determined to hold back. Even though tears were often the goal, she was stubborn and always held back as long as she could.
“If I find out you’re keeping your needs from me again, Gemma, you’ll be punished. And it won’t end with an orgasm. It will end with you kneeling in front of my desk on a bed of rice while you write out a thousand lines to remind you of the rules.”
He’d put her in the corner on rice once, early in their marriage, after she took her bratty side a bit too far. It was a special kind of torture because it did nothing for her lady bits.
But now his threats were accompanied by painful slices of his leather into her skin, and her pussy was soaked. Despite the arousal, she squirmed to get away from the stinging leather. She didn’t actually want it to stop. Not when she was hovering on the edges of subspace, but her body still tried to fight the pain.
“Legs wide. Now.”
His voice was hard and brooked no argument. She wiggled her thighs apart and pushed her head and elbows further into the mattress to raise her ass higher.
The belt licked her slick folds, and she fought to keep her legs apart. He would add more licks if she closed them.
“Who’s job is it to hurt you when you need it, Gemma?”
Another sting landed on her cunt, and she screamed her answer. “Yours, Sir.”
“And how can I do my job if you don’t tell me what you need?”
Another strike.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, no longer able to keep the tears at bay.
A hand tangled in her hair, and he lifted her up, so she knelt with her throbbing bottom resting on her heels.
He gripped her face hard and put his forehead against hers.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t keep you up all night screaming in pain for me.”
“I’m yours to hurt whenever you want, Sir,” she whispered.
“Good girl. But that’s not an answer. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea to keep you up all night?”
She struggled to form a coherent thought as he tightened his grip on her hair. Finally, it dawned on her.
“Because I have an early breakfast meeting.”
He let her hair go and pushed her back down into the mattress, raising her ass high.
“Good girl. And if I kept you up all night that wouldn’t be taking care of you, would it?”
She whimpered and squirmed away when the belt landed hard in the center of her ass.
“No, Sir.”
“I always take care of you, Gemma. Never forget that. Spread your legs. Take the pain I’m about to give your soaked little cunt and we’ll be done with the belt. Close your legs and I’ll paint your thighs as red as I’ve painted your ass, and you’ll go to sleep without that orgasm I promised you.”
The thought of not getting the release she so desperately needed had her begging him for something unexpected. “Tie my legs open, please, Sir.”
“I want you to do this on your own, love. You asked for this pain. Take it like a good girl. But if you really want me to tie you down, I will. But I’ll double the number of swats you were going to get.”
A gasp left her. She was a masochist, no question about it, but a belt to her pussy was excruciating and she didn’t relish the thought of having to endure double the amount he had in mind.
“Spread your legs. Now.”
He already knew she would choose to go without the restraints. He’d appealed to her competitive side.
