I switched my stroke. The flogger landed softly across her chest, first one way and then the other, the tips brushing her sensitive nipples. I brought the soft strands lower down her body, gradually picking up speed. The rabbit fur was soft. I had planned to work up to the suede, but that had been before the chastisement. I wanted to work her slowly and softly, and feared the suede would be too much for her after the spanking.
I moved the flogger to my left hand and ran the fingers of my right between her legs, lightly grazing her clit, then dipping slightly into her obvious wetness.
Perfect.
I switched the flogger back to my right hand and struck her upper thigh. The tips of the flogger strands ran across her entrance. I lifted my hand to strike again.
“Does it tickle, Abigail?” I asked. “Enough friction to make you ache, but too soft to bring relief?”
I continued for a few more minutes, changing my position and alternating where the tips landed. I immediately noticed when her body became too tense. “Relax, Abigail,” I said, brushing the fur across her belly. “I won’t be using anything harder on you tonight and, at this point in our play, I would tell you before I did.”
She exhaled, and the tension left her body.
“That’s it,” I said, using the flogger once more across her chest. “Just feel.” I dragged the strands down her body and flicked them against her clit. “Trust me.”
I took the vibrator from my pocket and turned it on, letting her hear it before I used it on her. “Can you handle more?” I asked, knowing she could.
With one hand, I continued using the flogger and, with the other, I slowly pushed the vibrator into her. I knew if I pushed too hard and fast, I’d make her cl**ax, so I pressed slowly, allowing her to grow accustomed to the low buzz.
My c**k grew harder within the confines of my jeans, but I pushed my needs and desires to the back of my mind and made myself focus on her. Tonight was about her, getting her accustomed to our new arrangement, working to regain her trust. Introducing her to a new type of control, one I had never pushed too far before.
I slowly worked the vibrator in and out of her while continuing to tease with the flogger. The fur strands landed on her br**sts at the same time I pushed the vibrator deeper. I started a rhythm and then changed it a bit to keep her guessing.
When I noticed her struggle to keep orgasm at bay, I removed the vibrator and set it and the flogger on the table. I walked to her side and gently stroked her face. “Open your eyes, my lovely.”
She blinked a few times before focusing on me.
The trust and love I saw in her eyes nearly took my breath, but I collected myself. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
I leaned over and brushed her lips with mine. “You’re doing great,” I said against them before pulling back. “You may leave your eyes open.”
I moved to her side and unzipped my jeans. Standing close enough for her to hear, but out of her peripheral vision, so she couldn’t see, I pushed my jeans down and swallowed hard when my erection sprang free.
Fuck.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out. I stood still for a few minutes, trying to decide how to proceed, and absent-mindedly stroked my c**k a few times.
I stepped out of my jeans and moved to the table. She lay still, blinking every so often, breathing steadily. My eyes wandered over her—from her pebbled, hard nipples, down to the soft skin of her belly I could taste from memory—she would have a faint salty flavor by now. It took all of my control not to rush the table and bury myself deep within her.
But how could I expect her to learn control if I couldn’t show I had mastered it myself?
I tweaked one of her nipples. “The clamps tomorrow, I think,” I said, giving her other nipple a hard squeeze. She sucked in a deep breath. “But for now,” I said, “get on your hands and knees and put that beautiful ass in the air for me.”
She moved at once, rolling to her side and scrambling to her hands and knees.
“Keep your stance wide,” I instructed.
When she had positioned herself, I stepped back and slowly lowered the table. My padded table was custom-made, with an automatic lowering and raising mechanism. Once I had it lowered at the height I wanted, I moved to stand behind her. “Scoot back until I tell you to stop.”
She backed toward me, and I placed a hand on her backside. “Far enough,” I said.
I ran my hands across her ass. “What do you think, Abigail?” I asked. “Have I tormented you long enough?” I pushed my h*ps against her so she could feel me. “Should I let you have my cock?”
She dropped her upper body so she rested on her elbows and waited.
“Mmmmmmm,” I hummed, enjoying the sight of her spread and waiting for me. Spread and ready. I gave her ass a light slap. By this time, pain from her spanking would have subsided slightly. The slap I gave served only to excite her further.
I placed my hands on either side of her h*ps and slowly eased my way inside.
Fuck.
I’d taken her in the shower that morning. Had taken her twice the night before. Why did it always feel so f**king good, every single time? My head fell back as I pushed deeper.
So good. So right.
Fuck.
Focus.
I pulled out slightly and teased her cl*t with my fingertips. “You’ve done so well tonight, I might let you come.” I pulled out farther. “Or I might make you wait until tomorrow.”
And with that, I started a slow, teasing rhythm. Pulling almost all the way out. Waiting for what seemed an inordinate amount of time. Easing my way back inside.
I slowed even further. Enjoying the sensation of being within her. Making sure she felt every inch of me. Feeling her stretch as I filled her once again.
Then, finally, I started moving faster. But only slightly. With each push, I swirled my finger around her clit, purposely avoiding any direct contact.
“Move with me,” I commanded. On my next thrust, she pushed back, drawing me deeper.
Yes.
I kept our pace steady. Her br**sts fit easily in my hands as I moved within her. I pinched a nipple, imagining the clamps I would put on her the next day—her head thrown back in ecstasy as I brought her to the edge of pleasure again.
I flicked one and rolled the hard tip between my fingers. She pushed back in to me harder, showing me without words or sounds how she felt. My hands ran down her sides, and under my fingertips, her breathing became ragged. Shorter. Neither one of us could hold out much longer.
I increased my rhythm, pounding strong and steady as she breathed even harder.
“I love being inside you,” I said, digging my fingers into her h*ps in a vain effort to get closer. Deeper. Anything. “The way your body stretches.” My words came in pants as I moved faster. “How it accepts me.” My h*ps rocked and I shifted deeper. “Fuck.”
My words dissolved into grunts, and I wasn’t sure what I said. The world disappeared. Time slowed. Only we existed.
Her body trembled under me.
“Should I let you come?” I teased. Her only answer was another thrust back into me. “Or should I be really cruel?” I stopped talking for a second as she took me deeper. “Make you wait until tomorrow? Keep you aching all night?”
I moved faster, my thrusts long and hard. She stilled; her body was taut and tense from the strain of withholding her cl**ax. My balls ached with the need to release.
I leaned over her back and whispered, “Come hard for me, baby.” My finger swirled around her cl*t and my voice dropped even lower. “Let me hear you.” I grazed her cl*t with the tip of my finger.
Her scream echoed in the quiet room.
Fuck.
I thrust into her again.
“Holy. Fucking. Hell,” she yelled as her body clamped around me. Her orgasm triggered my own, and I came just as hard as she did.
Completely spent, her body dropped to the table, limp. I leaned forward and rested on my elbows, placing soft kisses along the small of her back as I struggled to bring my breathing back to normal. She didn’t move.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Y-yes.” She took a deep breath. “Master.”
I moved up her body, caressing and kissing as I went, climbing up the table to get closer before finally moving off of her. “Sit up when you’re ready,” I said. “Feel free to talk.”
She lay still for a few minutes more, so I took my time—rubbing her muscles, nibbling and brushing her skin lightly with my lips. “You did so well,” I said into the nape of her neck. “I’m so very pleased.”
She rolled over, a faint smile of pride on her lips, and I couldn’t help but kiss her softly. Why did I ever think not kissing was a good rule? “Take some time,” I said. “Take a shower, get some water—whatever you feel like—and meet me in the library in thirty minutes.”
Chapter Three
—ABBY—
It was, hands down, without question, no need to even think about it, the most amazing orgasm of my life. Somehow, not being able to speak, or even moan, and having to wait for permission, made everything so much more intense. Then, as I walked out of the playroom, I remembered his husky whisper. Come hard for me, baby. Let me hear you. I almost came again.
Baby.
I shivered just thinking about it.
The first thing I noticed when I entered my room was the bucket of ice on the dresser. Funny, it wasn’t until I saw the bottle of water in the bucket that I realized how thirsty I was. Of course, Nathaniel would have thought of it, though. He thought of everything.
I swallowed half the bottle before noticing the unassuming nightgown waiting for me at the foot of the bed. I smiled. Nathaniel had been quite busy setting up before entering the playroom. I put my water down and picked up the gown. It was a delicate green and not overly sexy or revealing; I’d feel like a queen wearing it.
Since I had plenty of time before I needed to be in the library, I took a quick shower, allowing the warm water to run over my still sensitive skin. After slipping the gown on, I discovered even more of a surprise: the cool satin swept against the warmth of my skin. It gently brushed the slight sting left by our evening, so that even from the opposite side of the house, I felt my master’s touch.
I stopped just outside the door of my room.
My master.
It was the first time I thought of him as my master instead of Nathaniel. I didn’t dwell on it for too long, but hurried down the stairs, anxious to be near him again.
He waited for me in the library, standing near the table of decanters. His eyes traveled over me as I entered.
“The gown looks beautiful on you, Abigail,” he said.
Abigail. A reminder that, even though this was my library, it was still a weekend, I still wore his collar, and I was to behave as such.
He wore his tan cotton drawstring pants and didn’t look half bad himself. I dropped my gaze to the tops of my toes. Watched them wiggle. “Thank you, sir.”
“Look at me when we’re in the library,” he said.
I looked up and met his eyes. They shone darkly with emotion.
“Remember,” he said softly. “This is your space.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. Last week, he told me I could use sir in the library or at the kitchen table. Any other place during our weekends, he expected me to call him master.
“How does it feel?” he asked, and then quickly added, “The gown, I mean.”
“Delightful.” I swung my hips, and the satin brushed once again across the dull ache of my backside.
He smiled as if he knew exactly what I felt. Who knew? He probably did. Everything he did was calculated.
“Come on in,” he said, waving me farther into the library. He held up a wineglass. “Red?”
“Yes, please.”
He motioned to the floor in front of the empty fireplace. Piles of pillows lay scattered about with fluffy blankets among them, forming an inviting place to sit down. I took a tentative seat on a large pillow.
I moved the flogger to my left hand and ran the fingers of my right between her legs, lightly grazing her clit, then dipping slightly into her obvious wetness.
Perfect.
I switched the flogger back to my right hand and struck her upper thigh. The tips of the flogger strands ran across her entrance. I lifted my hand to strike again.
“Does it tickle, Abigail?” I asked. “Enough friction to make you ache, but too soft to bring relief?”
I continued for a few more minutes, changing my position and alternating where the tips landed. I immediately noticed when her body became too tense. “Relax, Abigail,” I said, brushing the fur across her belly. “I won’t be using anything harder on you tonight and, at this point in our play, I would tell you before I did.”
She exhaled, and the tension left her body.
“That’s it,” I said, using the flogger once more across her chest. “Just feel.” I dragged the strands down her body and flicked them against her clit. “Trust me.”
I took the vibrator from my pocket and turned it on, letting her hear it before I used it on her. “Can you handle more?” I asked, knowing she could.
With one hand, I continued using the flogger and, with the other, I slowly pushed the vibrator into her. I knew if I pushed too hard and fast, I’d make her cl**ax, so I pressed slowly, allowing her to grow accustomed to the low buzz.
My c**k grew harder within the confines of my jeans, but I pushed my needs and desires to the back of my mind and made myself focus on her. Tonight was about her, getting her accustomed to our new arrangement, working to regain her trust. Introducing her to a new type of control, one I had never pushed too far before.
I slowly worked the vibrator in and out of her while continuing to tease with the flogger. The fur strands landed on her br**sts at the same time I pushed the vibrator deeper. I started a rhythm and then changed it a bit to keep her guessing.
When I noticed her struggle to keep orgasm at bay, I removed the vibrator and set it and the flogger on the table. I walked to her side and gently stroked her face. “Open your eyes, my lovely.”
She blinked a few times before focusing on me.
The trust and love I saw in her eyes nearly took my breath, but I collected myself. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
I leaned over and brushed her lips with mine. “You’re doing great,” I said against them before pulling back. “You may leave your eyes open.”
I moved to her side and unzipped my jeans. Standing close enough for her to hear, but out of her peripheral vision, so she couldn’t see, I pushed my jeans down and swallowed hard when my erection sprang free.
Fuck.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out. I stood still for a few minutes, trying to decide how to proceed, and absent-mindedly stroked my c**k a few times.
I stepped out of my jeans and moved to the table. She lay still, blinking every so often, breathing steadily. My eyes wandered over her—from her pebbled, hard nipples, down to the soft skin of her belly I could taste from memory—she would have a faint salty flavor by now. It took all of my control not to rush the table and bury myself deep within her.
But how could I expect her to learn control if I couldn’t show I had mastered it myself?
I tweaked one of her nipples. “The clamps tomorrow, I think,” I said, giving her other nipple a hard squeeze. She sucked in a deep breath. “But for now,” I said, “get on your hands and knees and put that beautiful ass in the air for me.”
She moved at once, rolling to her side and scrambling to her hands and knees.
“Keep your stance wide,” I instructed.
When she had positioned herself, I stepped back and slowly lowered the table. My padded table was custom-made, with an automatic lowering and raising mechanism. Once I had it lowered at the height I wanted, I moved to stand behind her. “Scoot back until I tell you to stop.”
She backed toward me, and I placed a hand on her backside. “Far enough,” I said.
I ran my hands across her ass. “What do you think, Abigail?” I asked. “Have I tormented you long enough?” I pushed my h*ps against her so she could feel me. “Should I let you have my cock?”
She dropped her upper body so she rested on her elbows and waited.
“Mmmmmmm,” I hummed, enjoying the sight of her spread and waiting for me. Spread and ready. I gave her ass a light slap. By this time, pain from her spanking would have subsided slightly. The slap I gave served only to excite her further.
I placed my hands on either side of her h*ps and slowly eased my way inside.
Fuck.
I’d taken her in the shower that morning. Had taken her twice the night before. Why did it always feel so f**king good, every single time? My head fell back as I pushed deeper.
So good. So right.
Fuck.
Focus.
I pulled out slightly and teased her cl*t with my fingertips. “You’ve done so well tonight, I might let you come.” I pulled out farther. “Or I might make you wait until tomorrow.”
And with that, I started a slow, teasing rhythm. Pulling almost all the way out. Waiting for what seemed an inordinate amount of time. Easing my way back inside.
I slowed even further. Enjoying the sensation of being within her. Making sure she felt every inch of me. Feeling her stretch as I filled her once again.
Then, finally, I started moving faster. But only slightly. With each push, I swirled my finger around her clit, purposely avoiding any direct contact.
“Move with me,” I commanded. On my next thrust, she pushed back, drawing me deeper.
Yes.
I kept our pace steady. Her br**sts fit easily in my hands as I moved within her. I pinched a nipple, imagining the clamps I would put on her the next day—her head thrown back in ecstasy as I brought her to the edge of pleasure again.
I flicked one and rolled the hard tip between my fingers. She pushed back in to me harder, showing me without words or sounds how she felt. My hands ran down her sides, and under my fingertips, her breathing became ragged. Shorter. Neither one of us could hold out much longer.
I increased my rhythm, pounding strong and steady as she breathed even harder.
“I love being inside you,” I said, digging my fingers into her h*ps in a vain effort to get closer. Deeper. Anything. “The way your body stretches.” My words came in pants as I moved faster. “How it accepts me.” My h*ps rocked and I shifted deeper. “Fuck.”
My words dissolved into grunts, and I wasn’t sure what I said. The world disappeared. Time slowed. Only we existed.
Her body trembled under me.
“Should I let you come?” I teased. Her only answer was another thrust back into me. “Or should I be really cruel?” I stopped talking for a second as she took me deeper. “Make you wait until tomorrow? Keep you aching all night?”
I moved faster, my thrusts long and hard. She stilled; her body was taut and tense from the strain of withholding her cl**ax. My balls ached with the need to release.
I leaned over her back and whispered, “Come hard for me, baby.” My finger swirled around her cl*t and my voice dropped even lower. “Let me hear you.” I grazed her cl*t with the tip of my finger.
Her scream echoed in the quiet room.
Fuck.
I thrust into her again.
“Holy. Fucking. Hell,” she yelled as her body clamped around me. Her orgasm triggered my own, and I came just as hard as she did.
Completely spent, her body dropped to the table, limp. I leaned forward and rested on my elbows, placing soft kisses along the small of her back as I struggled to bring my breathing back to normal. She didn’t move.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Y-yes.” She took a deep breath. “Master.”
I moved up her body, caressing and kissing as I went, climbing up the table to get closer before finally moving off of her. “Sit up when you’re ready,” I said. “Feel free to talk.”
She lay still for a few minutes more, so I took my time—rubbing her muscles, nibbling and brushing her skin lightly with my lips. “You did so well,” I said into the nape of her neck. “I’m so very pleased.”
She rolled over, a faint smile of pride on her lips, and I couldn’t help but kiss her softly. Why did I ever think not kissing was a good rule? “Take some time,” I said. “Take a shower, get some water—whatever you feel like—and meet me in the library in thirty minutes.”
Chapter Three
—ABBY—
It was, hands down, without question, no need to even think about it, the most amazing orgasm of my life. Somehow, not being able to speak, or even moan, and having to wait for permission, made everything so much more intense. Then, as I walked out of the playroom, I remembered his husky whisper. Come hard for me, baby. Let me hear you. I almost came again.
Baby.
I shivered just thinking about it.
The first thing I noticed when I entered my room was the bucket of ice on the dresser. Funny, it wasn’t until I saw the bottle of water in the bucket that I realized how thirsty I was. Of course, Nathaniel would have thought of it, though. He thought of everything.
I swallowed half the bottle before noticing the unassuming nightgown waiting for me at the foot of the bed. I smiled. Nathaniel had been quite busy setting up before entering the playroom. I put my water down and picked up the gown. It was a delicate green and not overly sexy or revealing; I’d feel like a queen wearing it.
Since I had plenty of time before I needed to be in the library, I took a quick shower, allowing the warm water to run over my still sensitive skin. After slipping the gown on, I discovered even more of a surprise: the cool satin swept against the warmth of my skin. It gently brushed the slight sting left by our evening, so that even from the opposite side of the house, I felt my master’s touch.
I stopped just outside the door of my room.
My master.
It was the first time I thought of him as my master instead of Nathaniel. I didn’t dwell on it for too long, but hurried down the stairs, anxious to be near him again.
He waited for me in the library, standing near the table of decanters. His eyes traveled over me as I entered.
“The gown looks beautiful on you, Abigail,” he said.
Abigail. A reminder that, even though this was my library, it was still a weekend, I still wore his collar, and I was to behave as such.
He wore his tan cotton drawstring pants and didn’t look half bad himself. I dropped my gaze to the tops of my toes. Watched them wiggle. “Thank you, sir.”
“Look at me when we’re in the library,” he said.
I looked up and met his eyes. They shone darkly with emotion.
“Remember,” he said softly. “This is your space.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. Last week, he told me I could use sir in the library or at the kitchen table. Any other place during our weekends, he expected me to call him master.
“How does it feel?” he asked, and then quickly added, “The gown, I mean.”
“Delightful.” I swung my hips, and the satin brushed once again across the dull ache of my backside.
He smiled as if he knew exactly what I felt. Who knew? He probably did. Everything he did was calculated.
“Come on in,” he said, waving me farther into the library. He held up a wineglass. “Red?”
“Yes, please.”
He motioned to the floor in front of the empty fireplace. Piles of pillows lay scattered about with fluffy blankets among them, forming an inviting place to sit down. I took a tentative seat on a large pillow.
