Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night (5 page)

He placed a hand on each of her generous butt cheeks and spread her ass. She gasped, and she squirmed, but she didn’t try to get away. “Are you an anal virgin?”

“Except for one time when I was in college. I was dating a guy who stuck a finger up there. I hated it, and I told him never to do it again.”

“You’ve never worn a plug?”

“It’s on my ‘no’ list.”

“Was on your ‘no’ list,” he corrected.

She shuddered.

“Not immediately,” he said. “I won’t make you wear a plug tonight, but soon.”

“I…I want to talk about my list.”

“Of course.” He kept his hand on her and leaned in a little closer. “Do you want to talk about it now? Do you want to try and control this scene, or do you want to let go and enjoy this? Do you want to see where it goes?”

Seconds stretched into at least a minute.

She was a tough one. She’d require patience and perseverance in equal measures.

Finally, quietly, she said, “Please, Sir, tie me to the horse.”

“My pleasure, sub.” He wrapped one of the fabric strips around her right ankle, outside her boot. He secured her to one of the hooks.

Without being prompted, she tested the bond.

He’d adjusted the length of the strap so that she’d have a little slack. The bond wasn’t tight enough to cause her a muscle cramp, but she wasn’t going far.

Moving to the other side of the horse, he secured her left ankle. “How are you doing?” he asked when she pulled against the tethers.

“Okay, Sir,” she said.

Her voice shook just a little.

Then she added, “I’m scared. Nervous.”

“You’re allowed to be nervous.” He skimmed his fingers down her tense spine. “Scared, you can leave behind. I won’t do anything to frighten you. Breathe,” he told her. “Concentrate on your breathing. In and out.”

Her first few breaths were shaky; then she seemed to relax into the punishment horse.

“Please, Sir, tie my wrists.”

“You’re being brave.”

“It’s not easy,” she confessed.

He wanted her to enjoy this experience. He’d tied up women and beat them hundreds of times. But since she was so new to this experience, he was determined to ensure the beating would be memorable for Shelby.

He removed his fingers from the small of her back and crouched next to her. Her left cheek rested on the top pad, so she was looking at him.

“Do you want to be blindfolded?”

“Do you want me to be blindfolded, Sir?”

“Correct answer,” he said. In some things, she was a complete innocent. In others, she was delectably experienced. “This time, I’m offering you a choice.”

“I’d like to be able to see, if it’s okay with you, Sir.”

He gently took her right wrist, wrapped it in fabric, and then pulled it back a bit before securing it. The bondage would restrict her forward motion, making it more difficult for her to evade his belt.

He noticed her chest was rising and falling more rapidly than a few seconds before. “Remember to breathe.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Then he took her left wrist and secured it as well.

He stood back to admire her.

She pulled against each restraint, and her eyes widened when she obviously realized how helpless she was.

She truly was lovely in her bondage, with her delectable ass sticking out and emphasized by the chaps. He couldn’t wait to see the tantalizing flesh striped by his belt. “How many strokes do you deserve?”

“Sir?” She squirmed.

“Answer the question, lovely sub.” He fingered her clit, making sure she stayed aroused, despite her fear.

“Uhm… Eight?” Quickly she added, “Sir.”

“Eight it is.” He slid a finger inside her, feeling her vaginal walls tighten.

“Could I have gotten away with six?”

“You’ll never know,” he said. “But if you try too few in the future, I’ll double whatever you suggest.” He found her G-spot.

“Oh! Oh!”

Her response, so honest, so enthusiastic, made his cock harden. She squirmed and moaned. “Do not come,” he told her.

“S…sir?”

“You don’t have permission to come, little sub.”

“But—”

“Do
not
come,” he snapped. He felt her go rigid, saw her hands dig into the side of the horse. She couldn’t be any more responsive, any more perfect. He looked forward to driving her crazy with his hands, his mouth, and his cock. Master David had been an idiot not to tame her, not to give her what she craved.

“Sir, I’m begging.”

Her voice was high-pitched, and her body was shaking. It took all his restraint not to forget he was supposed to be punishing her. Very quietly, he said, “No, Shelby.” Relentlessly he continued the torture, finger-fucking her tight pussy, feeling her getting hotter and hotter. No matter how hard she was fighting it, he knew she was only moments away from climax.

“Sir! I can’t…”

He abruptly stepped back, removing his hand from her heated cunt.

“Damn it!”

“Another time, you’d be punished for your inappropriate reaction,” he told her. “I expect your gratitude when you’re allowed to orgasm. I expect your patience when you’re not allowed to come.”

“I apologize, Sir.”

“Smart girl.” He placed a palm on her right butt cheek and squeezed firmly, a small, added warning. “You’ll come when I say, Shelby, and only when I say. You’ll come for
my
pleasure. If it pleases me to let you orgasm, I’ll give permission. Otherwise, you’ll deal with it. Am I clear?”

Her whole body shook, but she managed a weak, “Yes.”

“Now, sub,” he said, his hand still on her butt cheek, “beg me to beat you.”

Chapter Three

Shelby could barely think, let alone speak. Her brain felt scrambled from the sensual onslaught. He’d brought her to the brink of orgasm and denied her any pleasure. She’d been ready to scream when he moved his hand away. This man truly was a master. He knew instinctively how she wanted to be touched. He read her body language perfectly. There would be no hiding from him.

“Beg me,” he repeated.

He squeezed her rear tightly. His grip felt like a combination of threat and promise. Her entire body was tingling. She wanted this. She wanted
him
. “Please,” she said. “Please beat me with your belt, Sir.”

“Eight strokes,” he told her.

She curled her right hand into a fist.

The punishment horse supported her torso, and the vinyl beneath her naked body had warmed slightly. Cool air whispered from the overhead vents, but her body still felt overwhelmingly hot.

“We’ll start slow by getting blood flow to your ass so you don’t bruise.”

He rubbed her rear roughly. Despite her efforts to stay still, she moved and squirmed against the horse. Even that small contact made her pussy wet all over again.

“The leather of your chaps will soften the blow from the tip of my belt. You can thank me for that later.”

Later
. The reminder that there was way more than this ahead of them made her tremble.

She watched as he walked to the table to collect his belt. Maybe she should have been blindfolded.

A dozen feelings warred inside her. Pleasure and anticipation combusted and drowned in the face of her fear. He’d given her repeated reassurances. He’d proven his adeptness at reading and responding to her body’s cues. And he’d been tolerant of the missteps she’d already made. But she was still apprehensive.

“Count every stroke aloud,” he told her. “And thank me for each.”

He moved behind her and stood there for several long seconds.

She thought she was ready for the first blow, but nothing could have prepared her for the blazing, searing sensation that bit her tender flesh when the leather cracked simultaneously across both butt cheeks. “Fuck!” she screamed. She gasped and pulled against the restraints.

“This is punishment, Shelby.”

Punishment
? He could bite her. She’d never felt anything like that before. “Bastard!” Anger pushed reason aside. “You said we’d start slow!” She wanted to call him a dozen more vile names, but she bit her tongue.

“Are you done yet?”

“Fuck,” she said again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Would you like to use your safe word?”

As the pain receded, she noticed that her cunt felt damp and her skin felt as if it were hypersensitive. That wasn’t possible.

“Shelby? Do you want to safe word out?”

Did she?

“It’s your choice. You’ve only received a single stroke, but if you can’t take it, safe word out.”

He touched her clit and gently rubbed it. Like a naughty girl, she pushed her body back, trying to get him to use a little more pressure.

As she’d known he would, he moved his hand away. She moved her pelvis against the horse, seeking relief that she couldn’t find.

“Safe word out, Shelby, or we start over.”

She gasped. “Start over?”

“I don’t tolerate that type of bad behavior. You’ll take your punishment with grace or not at all. Your choice.”

When she didn’t respond immediately, he laid the belt across her bare back and crouched next to her. His eyes were steely blue. His mouth was set in a grim line. His jaw was tight. And he smelled of masculinity and wind-whipped ocean air.

He unfastened the strap attaching her right wrist to the bench. He rubbed her wrist lightly.

“Wait,” she said.

He met her gaze. She knew she could get lost in the depths of his eyes. Suddenly she didn’t want him to send her away. She wanted to see where this went.

“Make no mistake, Shelby. This is not a game. As far as punishments go, that stroke was pretty tame.”

It hadn’t felt
tame
to her. She gritted her teeth and managed, barely, not to tell him that. The pain had completely vanished, and her entire pussy felt hot. She was needy. Horny. She wanted more, wanted to know how much she could take. “I want to continue. Refasten that bond.” With her cheek on the vinyl padding, she continued to look at him. “Please refasten that tie, Sir.”

“One more outburst like the previous one, Shelby, and your decision will have been made for you.”

“I understand.”

He secured her to the bench again.

“Stick out your ass. Do not grind that hot cunt against the horse without permission.”

She maneuvered her body as best as she could while tied in place.

“Relax into it,” he coached her.

She laughed, and the sound was slightly brittle.

“Fighting it will make the pain worse and lessen your enjoyment. Surrender.”

As if.

“Count after each stroke. Dip your ass and get your ass immediately back into position.”

He removed the brown belt from her back. She watched as he doubled it over and secured it in his grip.

Her mouth dried.

He stepped behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she clenched her butt cheeks.

“It’ll hurt more that way,” he cautioned her.

She exhaled and forced herself to relax her buttocks. “I’m ready, Sir.”

She didn’t hear anything.

Instead, she felt the blunt sting of leather against her left ass cheek.

She screamed and dug her fingers into the horse.

She’d been more prepared for this blow, and it didn’t startle her as much as the first had. It still hurt, still burned. In fact it freaking scorched her ass. But she was better able to contain her reaction.

Except for the ragged sound of her breathing, the room was silent. She heard muted noise from outside the door, a muffled yelp, and maybe stilettos against a wood floor.

She suddenly realized he was waiting. “One,” she said. “Thank you.”

Shelby remembered to stick her ass out. Then she forced herself to unclench her muscles so the next hit wouldn’t hurt so bad—at least theoretically.

“Good girl,” he said.

The leather bit into her skin again, on her other butt cheek.

This time, she gasped rather than crying out. “Two. Thank you, Sir.” Her ass well and truly burned. He’d landed a stripe across both cheeks; then he’d landed two more perfectly across the first, one on each side. If the chaps provided any protection from his aggression, you couldn’t prove it by the way her skin felt.

He dug his fingers into her hair and pulled slightly. She wiggled around. The way he was so intimately holding her turned her on.

He stayed there for a few moments, and her pussy became increasingly wet. She had an urge to kiss him, to thank him. She wanted to be in his arms.

He released his grip on her hair.

“Relax,” he told her.

The belt snapped against her rear, catching the outside of her right hip.

“Thank you.” She knew, from her reading, how skilled a disciplinarian he was. His blows were deliberately timed, deliberately placed. There was no rush. He knew what he was doing, and he was delivering the punishment perfectly. She just wished she were able to enjoy it more. “Three.”

By the time he landed the fourth stroke, she had found a rhythm. He’d smack her. She’d respond by clenching, then unclenching her fists, splaying her fingers as she relaxed. Then she’d thank him as she moved back into position.

“Nicely done,” he told her.

He seemed to always give her about thirty seconds to pull herself back together. She liked the pace. Not too fast, but he didn’t keep her waiting so long that nerves had a chance to gather in the pit of her stomach.

She closed her eyes and waited for the fifth.

This time, he allowed a little more time to pass. She wondered if he was looking at her pussy or seeing the red welts across her skin. Either way, the idea oddly excited her.

He landed the fifth harder than the others. She cried out. She clenched her fists several times and dragged in a few ragged breaths. “Five. Thank you.” Because she didn’t want him to start over again, or, worse, send her away, she left out her instinctive
fuck you.

He skimmed his fingers down her back, and the motion soothed her. He was good; she had to give him that. He pushed her to the edge, and once he had her there, he offered reassurance.

After a few seconds, he left her, and she forced herself to keep her body relaxed.

“This one will be the worst,” he warned her. “But you can take it.”