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He laughs at this. “I haven't gotten to punish you yet. Don't you think I should get to?”
“Yes, Master.” It's almost a whisper.
“I could give you a list of your minor missteps, all adding up to a justification, but I don't need a justification. You are mine. I will do whatever I want with you.”
Suddenly, the waxing is the last thing on my mind.
He nods toward the St. Andrew's Cross. I turn away from him and spread my arms and legs out so he can bind me to the end points. I close my eyes. I don't want to watch him picking whatever it is he plans to use on me. I hope it's not the cane.
I cry out at the unexpected pain of a paddle landing hard against my ass. In its own way it's just as bad as the cane. The tears come immediately after only the first blow. He rubs my heated flesh.
“Yes, Kitten. I like how you don't hold back. Let me have those pretty tears. I'm jealous you only gave them to Declan for so long.”
He paddles me as though I truly have done something worthy of punishment, and something about this particular implement makes me feel contrite even as the space between my legs responds with arousal.
He stops and presses his body against mine. I feel his erection through his pants. He steps away again and gives me another hard smack with the paddle. I'm blubbering and sobbing.
“Please,” I whimper. If I knew of some wrong I'd committed that deserved punishment I would beg forgiveness, but I know he's doing this for his own gratification. He strokes my skin again and presses a kiss to my tear-streaked cheek.
“Shhhh, Kitten.”
Then there is a vibrating toy between my legs. I squirm and twist trying to gain more contact every time he pulls it away. Unlike Declan, he likes to tease me with the lowest setting so long that I think I'll lose my mind from it.
“Master, please...”
I want the toy inside me. For some reason in the time I was apart from them, when I masturbated, I stayed on the outside. I couldn't bring myself to change the way I touched myself alone. I couldn't admit they'd changed me and what my body craves forever. Now I need to come that way. I need Seven to shove the toy inside me. Or his fingers. Or his cock. Anything. But he only presses the vibrator harder against my clit until I come, bucking against it and his hand.
“The wax is on the warmer. It's ready when you are,” Declan says.
“In a minute. I'm not done here yet. We need to retrain her ass. It's been weeks. Unless she was putting things inside her own ass in our absence,” he says, amusement threading his voice. “Were you doing that, Kitten?”
“N-no, Master.”
He sighs. “Such a shame. I would have jerked off to that thought for ages.”
I take a slow, deep breath when he slides a toy heavy with lube into my ass. It feels far better than it should after such a long break. I find myself moving with it, thrusting my ass back toward him trying to get deeper penetration with the toy.
“I told you she was becoming an anal slut,” Declan says.
I flush hot at these words, but I can't stop myself from seeking more contact with the toy he's fucking me with. When he pulls it away, I say, “No... please... more.”
“Not tonight, Kitten.”
But he does grant me another orgasm, this time with his fingers, still refusing to allow me the penetration I seek.
I feel weak and shaky when Seven takes me off the St. Andrew's Cross. He carries me to the bed and arranges us so that he sits against the headboard and I'm leaning back against his chest.
“Open your legs,” he orders.
I spread my legs and Declan joins us with the wax and cloth strips. I know he can see the fear in my eyes.
“It's okay, Pretty Toy. I know what I'm doing.”
Before he starts, though, he bends down and licks between my legs. I arch off the bed into his hungry mouth. He makes me come again while Seven holds me still for him.
When Declan finally starts waxing, I'm relieved to find that he does know what he's doing. The heated wax is somehow soothing and not too hot. And he knows just the right way to rub over the cloth. He gives a nice clean rip, and though it hurts, it's only for a second. But I cry out each time; I can't help it.
Seven distracts me, stroking my breasts in a way that is somehow more soothing than erotic. “You're doing great,” he says.
