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“Yes, Sir.”
He drew me back and I looked into his eyes, into sadism and mayhem, but also warmth. Something inside me melted. I felt bonded to him and his uncomfortable perversions in a deep way. He returned my gaze, going very still for a moment before he grasped my neck and yanked me toward him for a kiss. He forced his lips and tongue against mine, demanding submission to his will. Yes, I said in my mind. Yes, Si
r. Yes, Sir. Yes, Fort, I’m one hundred percent in.
By the end of his savage kiss, my anxieties were gone. My sweaty palms had dried, and when he led me toward a black resin butterfly chair and pressed on my shoulders, I went to my knees with no resistance at all.
“I’m going to get some things ready,” he said. “I want you to kneel there and think about surrender, about accepting whatever I choose to do to you. You belong to me for the next hour.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I felt like a very sexual being, his object, waiting for him on my knees. I only half-watched him making preparations, because it was too much for me to take it all in. I noted that he got a paddle and whip and set them by the spanking bench, and that he got clamps and a riding crop to set by the butterfly chair. Then he went to a chest of drawers and took out a medium-length dildo that graduated in thickness from the narrow tip to the wider root, which ended in a metal connector. He carried this to the chair and screwed it onto a bolt on the seat, testing it afterward to be sure it was secure.
I swallowed hard. I practically felt the blood drain from my face as he turned back to me.
“How experienced are you with anal sex?” he asked.
“Not experienced,” I answered, my mouth dry. “At all.”
“That’s okay. After today, you will be.”
He took a condom from the same dark chest of drawers, unrolling it over the dildo, all the way to the base. After that, he applied a layer of clear lubricant to the condom, so the whole thing shone with slickness. Next he brought the tube of lubricant over to me.
“Lean forward,” he said. “Forehead on the floor, ass in the air.”
I hesitated a moment, because once this all started, it wasn’t stopping. He put a hand on my shoulder, a reminder he was in charge, and that made it easier to fold my body forward and lift my hips. I was rewarded with some sharp spanks to my backside, followed by a couple of hard squeezes. I gasped and tried to stay still as he parted my ass cheeks. I heard the squelch of the tube and felt cold liquid drip onto my asshole. Then, holy shit, I felt his finger spreading the lube around my hole. I made a small, panicked sound as one finger delved inside, pressing the slickness deeper.
“The important thing to remember,” he said as he worked, “is that you need to stay open to whatever I shove into your ass. No matter how bad and uncomfortable it feels, you have to take it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Stay here a moment. Don’t lift your head. Keep that ass in the air.”
My knees trembled as he left me. I heard him cross the room, heard water running in the sink. He was still fully dressed, and I was naked, so naked and vulnerable. When he returned he made me stand, then oriented me in front of the chair and held my panicked gaze.
“We’ll go slow,” he said. “But the shaft goes up your ass.”
He had me spread my legs so I was straddling the narrow part of the chair, then ordered me to pull my cheeks apart and lower myself onto the shaft. I didn’t know how I could be so wet when I was dying of humiliation and fear. I squatted down until the tip of the shaft poked my ass. It was narrow enough to slide in a couple of inches. He waited as I paused, acclimating myself to the novel sensation of having a dildo up my butt.
“I’ll let you go at your own pace,” he said, “but I expect you to completely seat yourself on the shaft. Take your time. You can do it.”
Oh God, that was easy for him to say. I inched backward, feeling the shaft slide deeper. It hadn’t hurt at first, but as I sunk lower, I felt my ass stretch to accommodate the added width.
“It’s starting to hurt,” I said through my teeth.
“It’s not going to feel comfortable, but it’s not that thick.” His tone was firm and immovable. “You can take it, even if it hurts.”
I pressed down again, feeling my hole stretch around the dildo even as it ached at the invasion. At last my ass cheeks rested against the chair’s base, and I was fully impaled. I could feel the shaft deep inside me, holding me trapped in a way cuffs couldn’t.
I still got cuffed, though. He spread my legs over the chair’s “wings” and secured each thigh with a strap around the top of my knee. My wrists were buckled into cuffs at the sides of the chair. I was bound tight, my tensing ass impaled, my breasts and pussy exposed to his meditative gaze.
“Now…” He picked up the nipple clamps. “Let’s see what we can do to make you squirm.”
I eyed the clamps, already flinching. Sitting still on the shaft was bad enough. Once he made me start squirming… I steeled myself as he pinched my nipples, preparing them to be clamped.
“I’m using more severe clamps than last time,” he said, “since this will be a more severe session. The good thing is that you’re too bound to fight when the pain comes.”
I gave a whine of fear as he opened the first clamp, which was indeed larger and heavier than the previous pair he’d used. He closed it on my nipple and my whole body curled in a wave of white-hot agony. My hips surged upward, the dildo sliding in my ass as I bucked up and down.
“That was just one,” he said as I gasped. “Don’t be a baby. You came here of your own free will, Sparkles. Suck it up.”
He applied the other clamp and my ass contracted again on the dildo impaling me. He gave the clamps’ connecting chain a tug, making me squeal at the added pinch of pressure, then left it to dangle between my breasts.
I wanted to beg him to stop, but I also didn’t want him to stop, because even though it hurt, it excited me. I took deep breaths, trying to process the torturous nipple clamps as my ass squeezed at the pain. So much for being an anal virgin. I already felt like I was being fucked there. A butt plug, at least, had a narrowed neck at the end, before the flange. This dildo-chair arrangement kept me open as wide as the dildo’s base, all the time.
Like being fucked. Because he’s probably going to fuck you there by the end of this hour.
I couldn’t think about that now, because I knew the girth of his cock was more than the size of the dildo. I studied his face, trying to guess what was going on in his sadistic brain. He picked up the crop, a long, braided handle tipped by a wicked-looking leather slapper. “This won’t leave any lasting marks,” he said, running it up my inner thigh. “So don’t worry about that.”
He started flicking my inner thighs with the slapper. It didn’t hurt an excruciating amount, but it hurt enough to make me jump, and yes, squirm. As I pressed back from the pain, I felt the shaft slide deeper in my ass. When I threw my head back, gritting my teeth, the crop attacked my breasts. I shifted from side to side, trying to evade the stinging blows, but my arms were bound and each jerk made the clamps bite harder.
“This is awful,” I cried. “It really hurts.”
“Poor baby.” He smiled as he said this, enjoying my distress. He returned to my thighs, flicking them hard, repeatedly, not hard enough to leave bruises but hard enough for a searing heat to build between my legs. My thighs turned pink, then scarlet as the torture continued.
“Ow, ow, owww.” I barely felt the shaft anymore, the pain in my thighs was so much greater, but the smallest shift increased the clamps’ pressure and made my nipples scream. I tried to pull my legs together, but the straps over my knees prevented me from moving them more than an inch or two.
“No,” he said, tapping the crop beneath my chin. “Look at me. Legs stay open, exposing yourself to me. You’re mine.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied with tears in my eyes. “But it hurts.”
“I don’t care. Let me see your pussy.”
I obeyed, arching my hips as far forward as the straps would allow. He paused to slide his fingers through my pussy lips. I was so wet. I must have been soaking his chair, my juices as shiny as the lube he’d put on the shaft.
“Ah, you want this,” he said, sounding satisfied. “You love to be hurt.”
I shook my head, grimacing through tears, but my body obviously loved it on some level. He shoved
two rough fingers inside my pussy, plunging them in and out as I bobbed on the shaft in my ass. Just like that, I was about to climax. He must have known because he shook his head with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“No, you’re not allowed to come yet. I’m not done with you.”
He took his fingers away, stood, and replaced his caressing digits with a prod of the crop against my slit. “What are we learning about Juliet today?” he asked. “That she’s an anal slut? That she likes anal better than getting fucked in her cunt?”
I shook my head. I didn’t think that was true, but he only laughed, then he flicked my pussy three times with the crop. Left, right, middle. With each flick, I tossed on the impaling dildo, trying to escape the punishment. Then he crossed to my other side and grasped my neck with one hand, making me hold still. More force, more dominance, and then agonizing slaps of fire on my pussy. He swung the crop hard, catching my pussy lips and my clit, making them burn. When I tried to twist away, he held my neck harder, running his hand across my throat.
“Take it,” he said in a low, encouraging voice.
Whack. Whack. Oww, oh my God, I can’t. Whack. Whack. Whack.
My legs shook and strained against their straps. My breasts quaked as my whole core jerked. When he finally stopped torturing my pussy, my body collapsed. He didn’t let go of my neck until he kissed me, catching my gasp of relief in his mouth. One of my tears spilled over and he caught it with his tongue, licking it toward my temple. As I whimpered, he kissed my cheekbone and my ear, running fingers through my hair.
“Yes, cry, my horny little victim. If only you didn’t enjoy this so much. You don’t know what to feel, do you?”
I gazed at him through wet, wary eyes. He was right. I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know if I loved this or hated it, or both.
He drew away, laid the crop aside, and took off the nipple clamps. My whole body fell limp, to the point where the clamps’ removal hardly registered, at least until the blood rushed into the newly freed tips and set them on fire.
“Open your mouth,” he said. “And your eyes.”
