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Part 2
"Yes," I breathed, unable to look away from his dark eyes. His lips curved in a wicked smile at my surrender.
"I have a few ideas," he told me, sitting back up away from me. "First, I need you to get some things out for me, from wherever you keep your toys hidden."
My stomach clenched as I thought of all the various implements I owned – dildos and plugs of all sizes, gags, two crops, a cane, two paddles – one leather, one wood – three floggers of different sizes and materials, the wartenberg wheel, a very sharp knife, clothespins and clamps, and of course, the supple leather cuffs that molded themselves to my wrists and ankles, holding me tightly, giving me the feeling of restraint even when they weren't attached to anything, along with their accompanying spreader bar. What did he want? What did he know about what I had, or how to use any of it?
I swallowed hard. "Wh…what did you need?"
"Oh, I think I'll need to see the whole collection, before I can make that kind of decision, don't you think?"
"I…" There was no safe answer to this, and I knew it. "Yes, sir."
He said nothing, simply moved aside for me to get up and go get everything out. I rolled over, managed to force my shaking legs to support me, and wobbled my way over to the closet. Inside was a small, low dresser with only two drawers, tucked under my hanging clothes. I knelt before it and opened the top drawer, which held the "normal" sex toys – dildos, plugs, and vibrators – and began to take things out, laying them out beside me for him to see. The glass dildo that was more art than sex toy – I didn't like it much, too hard and unyielding; I'd bought it more because it was pretty than because I wanted to use it. The standard "realistic" style cock-n-balls dildo. The bigger brother to that one, named "Outlaw", a full 2 inches in diameter. I only used him when I wanted some pain with my pleasure…there's nothing quite like the feeling of being split open, so full it hurts, yet wanting more. The Hitachi, the rabbit with the rotating pearls in the shaft. The double-penetration dildo, a regular-size phallus with a slender, shorter, "beads"-style shaft branching off from its base, so I could fuck myself in both holes at once. I loved that one. And then the plugs – a plain cone-shaped three-size set, one that was a hybrid between a plug and a dildo – longer, phallus-shaped, but slimmer than a dildo with the flared base of a plug, the inflatable vibrating plug.
I chanced a look over my shoulder at him as I finished laying out the last of them. The amused look on his face made my heart skip a beat before I turned back to the second drawer, the drawer with the explicitly kinky toys. I laid out paddles and floggers, cuffs, crop and cane, clamps. The spreader bar. Two ball-gags of different sizes, a penis gag, a ring gag, a spider gag, a bit gag, the head-harness with a flat leather panel over the mouth and a penis gag on the inside of it. What can I say? I like gags. There's a special kind of helplessness that comes from having one's voice taken away, or having the purpose of one's mouth redirected for use, as with a ring or spider gag. I didn't dare look at him again, knowing this was his first introduction to my interest in gags in particular. I flushed to think what he might do with them, with me, in the course of experimenting. The spiked wheel and the knife came out last, and I tried to sort of hide them under the straps of some of the gags.
With everything laid out for him to see, I couldn't stay facing into the drawers anymore. Slowly I shuffled around on my knees, so that I knelt beside the collection of implements, waiting for further instructions. I kept my eyes on the floor and my hands folded in my lap as he pondered the bounty laid before him, taking his time choosing what he wanted to begin with.
At last, he raised a hand and pointed. "Those two. And that."
I picked up the two paddles and the penis gag he had indicated and, after a gauging look at his eyes, decided to err on the side of caution and crawled over to him with them instead of trying to stand. I held them out to him, the gag in one hand, paddles in the other. He took the gag from me and held it up expectantly. Obediently I opened my mouth for it, feeling the fat rubber cock sliding between my lips, pushing my tongue down. When it was all the way in, it filled my mouth completely, the head of it resting just shy of the point where I would begin to gag on it. He buckled the strap around behind my head, tightly, so that the leather cover at the front pressed firmly against my lips, and the phallus was forced a little further back, almost to the point of penetrating my throat. I had to work to control my gag reflex, and my eyes watered a little. He didn't seem to care.
"There," he said, satisfied. "Now that's taken care of. I intend to cause you a lot of pain over the next few hours, and I don't want you disturbing your neighbors while I do." My breath caught at the promise of pain. How much was "a lot" to him? It could be less than I would call "a lot", since he's not as experienced with this stuff. Or, because he's getting revenge for dozens of times that I've toyed with him before, it could be even more than I expected.
He had been watching me, watching the thoughts race through behind my eyes. He held my gaze as he reached down and took the two paddles from my hands, then held them up between us. "Which one do I want to start with?" he mused. After a moment's thought, he put the leather one aside.
"I remember a time," he said quietly, stroking the edge of the paddle over my face, tracing the line of the gag around my lips, "when you teased the hell out of me, whispering filthy stories of how you wanted me to fuck you…and then when I undressed you, you acted like you had "just remembered" that you were far too bruised for the pounding of sex. I remember the bruises decorating your ass and thighs, all over, almost frighteningly dark against your pale skin." My heart raced as I remembered. I had had a friend over the evening before, and he liked to play heavy and rough. He'd used a combination of his hands and the paddle, with me tied tightly in place, and had beaten me for what felt like hours, before finishing off with a rough ass-fucking and leaving. He hadn't even bothered to untie me, either, because I had told him my boyfriend was coming over late that night.
My boyfriend…we have an interesting dynamic. He doesn't actually mind my playtimes with other men, but we have a rule that any time he finds me doing things, or sees direct evidence of it, he gets to punish me for it. It's a role-play of sorts – the bad little slut, cheating girlfriend, being punished for it. We both love it. It suits us.
That night, when he arrived to find me tied up, bruised, with cum dripping from my ass…oh, it was bad. The other guy had left me on my knees on the bed, wearing the harness gag with it chained to an eye bolt screwed into the headboard, with my right wrist cuffed to my right ankle and left wrist to left ankle so that my face rested against the bed, back arched and ass in the air, pointed right at the door to the room. When my boyfriend came to the door of the room and saw me like that, he put his stuff down, went to the dresser and brought the inflatable plug over. He shoved it into my ass, unlubricated, ignoring my muffled cries, then began to pump it up until it was painfully large, telling me all the while how I deserved this pain for letting another man come in my ass. Once the plug was in and enlarged to his satisfaction – meaning I was squirming and moaning and trying to beg him to stop – he got out the cane and proceeded to cane my pussy until I was screaming and crying. He lectured me as he beat me, on what a bad girl I was, how I needed to be trained to be obedient and faithful to him. And when he decided I had been punished enough, he got up on the bed, turned on the plug's vibrator, pumped it up a few more times to make my pussy a super-tight vibrating sex toy for him to use, and fucked my freshly tortured pussy while I sobbed in agony and humiliation.
So between the session with my other "friend" and my boyfriend's punishment for it, of course I was in no condition for sex the next day. But I had already arranged to see Cal, and I couldn't resist taunting him. It's not like I made him go completely hungry – I sucked him off, twice even. I guess that wasn't enough…
He snapped me out of my reverie by grabbing my right nipple and yanking me up by it, then shoving me unceremoniously facedown across his legs so that my right side was pressed against his body. He grabbed my left wrist and bent my arm across my back, effectively capturing me and keeping me pushed down while exerting very little force and leaving his other hand free to hit me with. It was a surprisingly efficient hold, and deftly done. I began to wonder if he'd done this once or twice more than he'd let on.
But I had only a split second to think about it, because he wasted no time in bringing the paddle down on my ass with a loud whack. I yelped into the gag and involuntarily arched my back, struggling against his hold. He pushed me back down effortlessly and brought the paddle down again, harder. There was no warmup, no chance to get ready for it. He simply rained blows down on my naked flesh, each hit overlapping the others so that the entirety of my ass felt like it was on fire, a feeling which only worsened with each hit.
He began to speak, conversationally, between strikes. "I've decided what I'm going to do with you tonight," he began. "And this, you filthy little cunt, is only the beginning." My whole body flinched at that, at being addressed so crudely. "I'm going to go back through my memory. And every single time that I can remember where you had marks from some other man on you, that you used to tease and taunt me with…I'm going to recreate them. I'm going to bruise your ass like I remember seeing it that time. I'm going to whip your pussy red and raw. I'm going to put clothespins all over your tits and I'm going to leave cuts on your arms. I am going to leave you marked up all over – and even the things that didn't leave marks, but that you told me had happened to you, I'm going to do those, too." Tears of helpless pain and shame slid down my face as the twin onslaughts on my body and mind continued.
"And then," he added, "I have some ideas for even more…interesting…marks. A few conversation pieces to show off to your friends and your boyfriend."
I might have wondered what he meant by that, if I weren't so consumed with agony and lust.
But all I could think about, all I could feel, was the never-ending barrage of hard, fast strikes from the paddle, all over my ass and thighs, crushing my flesh again and again and again as I writhed in pain and begged for mercy against the rubber cock in my mouth.
Mercy, I would soon discover, was not a word that held any meaning for him that day.
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