Bound to Beg

July 2

He gave her backside a firm smack.
Then another.
The third landed before she'd properly recovered from the second.
"Sir..."
The word came out somewhere between a complaint and a warning.
"I know."
The fact that he sounded amused was deeply unhelpful.
Another smack landed.
Then another.
The warmth spread quickly, blooming across her skin until every strike seemed to land on skin that was already paying attention. Before long she was twisting against the restraints and burying her face in the mattress, half trying to escape and half chasing the next impact anyway.
A ridiculous position to find herself in.
Not a new one.
But still ridiculous.
The apology that tumbled from her lips wasn't even attached to a specific offence anymore.
She'd long since lost track.
"I'm sorry."
Smack.
"I know."
Another.
"I'll be good."
A pause.
Then a chuckle.
"No, you won't."
The worst part was that he was right.
Something cool brushed against her skin a moment later.
She recognised it immediately.
Her stomach tightened.
"Sir..."
The warning in her voice sounded considerably less convincing than she'd intended.
His hand settled briefly against her hip.
"Relax."
Easy for him to say.
She took a breath anyway.
Then another.
The sensation of the plug made her tense instinctively before slowly, gradually, letting herself settle around it. Not comfortable exactly. Not uncomfortable either.
Just there.
Present.
Demanding attention.
Rather like the man responsible for it.
"There you go."
The quiet approval in his voice warmed something inside her chest.
Annoyingly.
She'd much rather blame the restraints.
Or the toys.
Or literally anything else.
Instead she found herself melting under praise like it was a personality flaw.
Which, in fairness, it probably was.
"Every time you decide to be a menace," he said, his hand resting comfortably on her lower back, "you somehow seem surprised that consequences exist."
She huffed into the mattress.
"I'm not surprised."
"No?"
"No."
A beat passed.
"You just don't think they'll apply to you."
"...Maybe."
His laugh rolled through the room.
She hated how much she liked that sound.
The mattress shifted behind her.
The atmosphere changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The sort of shift that made anticipation crawl slowly up her spine.
She felt it immediately.
So did he.
Of course he did.
His hand slid through her hair, gathering it gently away from her face.
A surprisingly tender gesture from someone who'd spent the evening being thoroughly unreasonable.
"You alright?"
The question was simple.
Genuine.
The answer arrived just as quickly.
"Yes, Sir."
His thumb brushed briefly across her shoulder.
"Good."
The single word settled over her like a blanket.
For all the teasing, all the denial, all the games they'd played tonight, that was the thing she kept coming back to.
The certainty.
The attention.
The feeling that every reaction mattered because he was paying attention to all of them.
Not just the loud ones.
The quiet ones too.
Eventually the tension that had been wound tight through her body began to loosen.
The fight drained out of her first.
Then the bravado.
Then whatever scraps of dignity she'd been trying to cling to.
She felt him move closer.
Felt his hands become gentler.
The shift wasn't sudden.
Just deliberate.
The same way everything with him seemed to be.
One by one the restraints disappeared.
The cuffs came off.
The chains fell silent.
The weight she'd been carrying all evening slowly lifted.
When he finally helped her roll over, she found herself blinking up at him with the vague, fuzzy feeling that always arrived afterwards.
He reached for the clamps with far more care than he'd attached them.
The contrast wasn't lost on her.
It never was.
"Come here."
His arms opened.
She didn't hesitate.
A moment later she was tucked safely against him, resting her head against his chest while he wrapped a blanket around both of them.
Much better.
Far less effort.
His hand drifted through her hair.
Slow.
Steady.
Comforting.
"Good girl."
The words landed softly this time.
Not as praise earned.
Not as a reward.
Just a truth.
She felt herself smile.
Tired.
Sore.
Entirely too pleased with herself considering how the evening had gone.
The fact that she'd ended up exactly where he'd intended from the beginning felt like a problem for future her.
Current her was warm.
Safe.
Comfortably held.
And if she happened to be already considering what sort of trouble she might cause next time, well...
That was probably a problem for him. 😏
He smacked her ass, once, twice, then more rapidly until her cheeks glowed and she was sobbing, babbling apologies into the sheets.
He grabbed the plug from the nightstand, cool and slick. He pressed it in slowly, listening to her breath catch as her body stretched around it.
“Every time you brat, your ass gets claimed.”
She whimpered. “Yes, Sir…”
Then his cock replaced the plug. Hard. Thick. Unyielding.
He pushed into her ass slowly, not for her comfort, but so she could feel every unforgiving inch. Once buried deep, he didn’t stop. He used her, gripping her hips so tight they’d bruise, her breasts pressed into the mattress, the clamps grinding mercilessly with every thrust.
“You cum now, you filthy slut,” he growled, voice savage with love. “You cum on my cock, from your ass, because that’s what you deserve.”
She shattered.
The orgasm ripped through her like a scream in a cathedral. She trembled, manacles clanging as she rode the wave, sobbing and shaking as he pounded into her harder, until he growled, cursed, and emptied into her, deep and raw.
She collapsed into the bed, boneless. Wrecked. Safe.
He removed the clamps gently, kissing each reddened nipple. Unlocked the manacles one by one, massaging her wrists, whispering soft praises between breaths.
“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “My perfect, punished girl.”
And she smiled, sore and shining, bruised and blissful.
To add in:
The metal of the cuffs clattered against the bedposts as he adjusted her position, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He didn't just want her open; he wanted her exposed, ***, and completely at his mercy. He reached for the leg spreader, the heavy leather and steel clicking into place. He secured the spreader to her wrists, which were already strained against the posts, forcing her legs wide and locking her hips in a position that left nothing to the imagination. She was a wide-open invitation, her pussy glistening and pulsing in the dim light.
He stepped back for a moment, admiring the sight of her all flushed, trembling, and utterly trapped. The silence lasted just long enough for her to start whimpering before he reached for his belt. He slid it from his loops with a slow, deliberate hiss of leather.
Crack.
The first strike landed across her thigh, a sudden burst of heat that made her scream and arch her back, the chains chiming wildly. He didn't stop, delivering a rhythmic series of lashes across her inner thighs and the swell of her ass. Each blow was calculated, a mixture of sharp *** and searing arousal that drove her deeper into the haze.
"You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "Begging for it before I've even touched you."
He dropped the belt and moved between her legs, but he didn't give her what she wanted. Instead, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. He freed himself, his cock thick and pulsing, and shoved it deep into her mouth. He didn't ease in; he throat-fucked her with a ruthless intensity, hitting the back of her throat until she gagged and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. He held her there, controlling her breath, making her swallow him whole until she was shaking with the effort.
When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva connected them. He moved down, his tongue replacing his cock, licking her clit with a precision that nearly sent her over the edge. He worked her, swirling and sucking, while his fingers began to probe her. One finger, then two, then three, stretching her wide. He pushed further, his hand curling into a fist, pushing deep into her heat. He didn't go all the way, stopping just at the brink of fisting her, leaving her feeling stretched and empty and craving him.
"Please," she sobbed, her hips bucking against the restraints. "Please, I can't... I need you. Please end this. I'm so empty!"
He chuckled, a dark, predatory sound. He moved up, gripping her chin firmly, forcing her to lock eyes with him. "Look at me," he commanded. "I want you to see exactly who is taking you."
He positioned the head of his cock against her opening. He didn't plunge; he pushed in inch by agonising inch. She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt the sheer thickness of him stretching her walls to their absolute limit. He paused halfway, letting her feel the fullness, the pressure of him claiming every millimeter of her.
He started with shallow thrusts, barely dipping inside, teasing the sensitive entrance. She whimpered, begging for more, but he kept the pace torturous. Then, with a sudden shift, he buried himself deep, his hips slamming against hers. He began to fuck her hard, but slow—deep, grinding strokes that hit her cervix and made her vision blur.
As he hammered into her, he reached down, his thumb finding her clit. He rubbed her with a relentless rhythm, building the tension until she was screaming, her body vibrating on the edge of a cliff.
"Don't you dare," he warned, his voice stern. "You don't cum until I tell you."
He kept her there, hovering on the precipice, pinching and biting her nipples until she was sobbing from the overload of sensation. Just as she felt she would break, he wrapped one hand around her throat, squeezing firmly, cutting off her air just enough to heighten the panic and the pleasure.
"Now," he groaned, his thrusts becoming frantic. "Cum for me, my filty little whore. Cum!"
He released her neck at the exact moment he slammed home one last time. The sudden rush of oxygen combined with the release sent her into a violent, crashing orgasm that felt like it was tearing her apart. She wailed, her walls clamping around him in tight, rhythmic pulses.
He didn't let her recover. As the first wave subsided, he withdrew, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing in the room. He flipped her over, her ass thrust high in the air, still bound and open. He didn't use lubricant; he just pushed his thick cock straight into her tight heat. She shrieked, the sensation of being stretched in a new direction sending a fresh jolt of electricity through her. He fucked her ass with a primal hunger, his teeth sinking into the nape of her neck, his hand once again gripping her throat.
He drove into her until he felt his own climax building, a tidal wave of heat. With one final, guttural roar, he filled her ass with a hot, thick load of cum, his body shuddering against hers.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by their ragged breathing. The persona of the sadist vanished instantly.
He carefully unlocked the restraints, his movements tender. He caught her as she collapsed, her body limp and floating in the depths of subspace. He carried her to the bath, gently cleaning the sweat, ***, and cum from her skin with a warm cloth, his touch light and reverent.
Once she was dry, he wrapped her tightly in a plushy, oversized blanket, rolling her up like a sushi roll until only her head was ***king out. He pulled her close to his chest, kissing her forehead and whispering into her ear.
"You were so good for me," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine love. "Such a brave, good girl. I've got you. You're safe."