Read Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories for Free Online Page B

backs of my thighs, I tried to draw my legs together, but I couldn’t. Ouch, ouch, ouch... My body jerked and I made pleading yelps, but he didn’t stop. My fingers unlaced and made fists. A moment later he tapped lightly at them with the crop’s tip.
    “No fists,” he said. “Lace them together the way I showed you.”
    I wondered why. There had to be a reason. I uncurled my fingers and interlaced them the way he asked. In the meantime, he’d put down the crop. I waited to see what would come next. A stinging thud exploded against the underside of my ass. Fuck, the paddle. My fingers tensed and almost fisted again, but then I remembered.
    “Ahh- owwch ,” I cried as the paddle landed again. “Ow!”
    “Hurts?” he asked.
    My only response was a drawn-out whine as he smacked me again. It could only be described as a pain explosion . The sting was so hot and pervasive, a heavy impact of torment against my cheeks. I was glad he hadn’t asked me to count as he landed four strokes in quick succession. I could hardly breathe.
    “Open your fingers,” he reminded me.
    Was the finger thing some extra layer of control? Some extra test? Perhaps he wanted my cooperation as a show of acceptance. When my hands were in fists, I was resisting. When I was made to uncurl them, my body uncurled somehow too, and I was forced to submit to him in some deeper way. When I laced them together nicely the way he wanted, it was an intentional sign of submission.
    I did as he asked and tried to release the tension in my shoulders and legs.
    “Good girl,” he said, whacking me again. I made a plaintive sound. Oh, it hurt. I wished I could cry, but no tears came. Crying would be the ultimate submission, the ultimate giving of myself, but I was too overwhelmed for that. I was too overwhelmed to do anything but wait for the next crack of the paddle, and keep my hands from clenching into fists again.
    “ Owww... ” I whined. At last, the paddle stopped. I couldn’t even feel the pinpoint stings from the crop anymore. All I felt was the allover throb of the paddle, the same throb I remembered from the previous time. I thought to myself that, as much as they hurt, paddles were my favorite. They really meant business. They really made me feel punished on a deep, noisy, stinging level.
    “How are you doing?” he asked, rubbing my bottom in slow circles.
    Jesus, it felt so good when he rubbed me. Why couldn’t he rub my pussy so I could get off? I tried to press my clit to the spanking bench, but the way he’d positioned and bound my legs, I couldn’t quite reach it. All I could do was struggle and arch my hips.
    He chuckled. “Naughty girl. You’re being spanked, not pleasured.”
    “But it feels good,” I cried. “I mean, the spanking’s making me hot.”
    “I can see that.”
    He yanked my thong up between my ass cheeks. My clit. Oh, my clit . Holy fuck, if my hands were free, I would have been abusing myself like hell.
    “Please,” I begged.
    “Please, what? Please more?”
    “Paddles really turn me on,” I said, as if to excuse my whorish behavior and continued attempts to grind on the bench.
    “Maybe we’d better move on to something a little less enjoyable then,” he replied in an evil tone. “Something very effective for naughty, horny girls.”
    “Your cock would be effective,” I blathered. “Or a vibrator.”
    But that wasn’t what I got. A crisp, excruciating line of fire blazed across my ass. I screeched and tensed my cheeks.
    “That’s so... ouch ...please!”
    “Leather-wrapped cane,” he explained. “It hurts a lot. Ready for another?”
    “No, I don’t—”
    My words cut off in a squeal as another line of fire sizzled atop the first one. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My hands were in fists again, and I didn’t think I could uncurl them this time.
    “Deep breaths,” he said. “Process the pain. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
    There was something I could do about it, which we both knew, but no,