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“Yes, Sir.” I held my glass in my lap, twisting it between my fingers. “Excited and nervous.”
“That’s perfect. Whenever you’re ready—”
“Are you excited?” I asked.
He tilted his head back and leveled me with his direct hazel stare. “If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here.” He took my glass and put it on the table, then cupped my head and kissed me, his typical hard, rough, blatantly possessive kiss. When he pulled away, it was to take my elbow in an unforgiving grip. “Let’s get started. I’ve been fantasizing about the best ways to hurt you all week.”
When he led me to his library this time, I took less notice of my surroundings. The suspended pendulums that had fascinated me so much the previous week now suggested the shape of butt plugs.
I suppressed the urge to repeat that I was nervous. He probably understood that from the tension in my arm. We entered his dark, otherworldly dungeon and the tension turned to shakes. I took deep breaths to center myself. I wanted this. I’d looked forward to the terror all week.
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
I complied, trying to be sultry in spite of my trembling. I hoped he appreciated my pretty black lingerie, but he said nothing as I undid the bra’s clasp and then peeled down my panties, lying all of it on the low bench just inside the door.
“Come here,” he said when I was done.
I went to him, slouching gratefully into his arms when he opened them.
“Same as last week,” he murmured against my ear. “I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to make you very uncomfortable tonight, but you’re going to be safe. Do you trust me?”
“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, Sir. 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.
