Chapter 40

Kathleen

Cold handcuffs keep me chained to the edge of the ottoman. My wrists are bound together, my back straight while my ass sticks up behind me. My boots are flat on the carpet, but I know better than to kick them back or otherwise act impetuously.

"You're a good girl for confessing like that, Katie." Although her voice is soft, there's a hint of foreboding. "For that, I'll go easy on you."

She spanks me.

Pain shoots through my ass, through my legs. My thighs feel like they're on fire already, and the rest of my body is on high alert.

"You need to be punished, darling. Do you know what you're being punished for?"

I don't know. I don't care. I'm too busy heaving breaths into the fabric of the ottoman because my ass fucking hurts.

Another strike. "Answer me, Katie." Her voice doesn't sound so gentle now. "If you don't, you will be denied."

I both know and don't know what that means. To be denied means to be edged, or to be brought to near orgasm and left hanging, tortured. It's an erotic punishment that I'm all too familiar with. The best partners know how to meet my edging by holding back orgasm.

I don't know what it means in that Ira could do anything. Anything. So, it's probably a good idea if I answer.

"I don't know, Mistress." My throat is so damn dry. "I honestly don't know why I need to be punished."

"Really? You don't know why? Think long and hard. It's why you're here."

She doesn't mean the thinking. She means the answer is why I'm here. Why I've asked her to train me to be submissive. Her submissive.

"I need to be punished because I'm a slut, Mistress."

This time when her hand touches me, it's almost gentle. "That's right. Being promiscuous and kinky is more than okay. You know that as well as I do. What you need help transcending is the guilt you feel from it."

"I don't feel…"

Spank!

"What was that? It almost sounded like you were saying you don't feel guilty. Now I know that can't be true. You wouldn't have asked me to do this to you if you didn't feel guilty about your need to submit. I know who you are, Katie. You're used to being a Domme. You want power. You feel guilty giving up that control when so many other women fight to gain it."

Fuck her. Fuck her.

"I also need to punish you for blabbing your big mouth to my mother about our relationship. Do you know how much she tortured me today? I'm sick thinking about it. You need to learn your place, and your place is my obedient partner who doesn't feel a shred of guilt for what I do to her."

This next spank is the hardest yet. It pounds into my flesh, sending waves of pain mingling with pleasure all through my body.

It's raw. It's tormenting. It's enough to make me think about the shit I felt before I came here. Back when I was wondering if this was the right thing to do.

Of course it is. How could it not be?

I'm becoming more accepting of Ira's machinations. I'm more and more okay with her manhandling me, taking me, giving me painful pleasure. What I'm not accepting is the debasement from my end.

She wants me to beg. She wants me to get on my knees and beg to lick her, to get my clit rubbed, to be spanked.

She wants me to beg for her body.

"Do you understand why you're here now, Katie?" Ira steps away, opening a drawer nearby. I can't see what she's looking for. "Do you understand why you need this?"

I bite my lip until it almost bleeds. "Because I'm ashamed of what I want from you."

"That's right. You shouldn't feel ashamed. You need to have your mind and body purged of this shame you're carrying around." The drawer closes again. "Open your legs, my love."

She called me that again. She called me her love. Does she mean it?

I obey, forcing my legs farther apart and feeling the warm air against the crotch in my corset. Ira undoes the buttons giving her easy access. Soon enough, my ass is exposed, and my opening experiences pleasure for the first time tonight.

If I'm wet, she doesn't comment on it yet.

Something soft and leathery taps my bare ass. My mind struggles to figure out what it is. Once I feel the broad shape of a crop caressing my skin, I seize, a single word all over my lips.

"Pink!"

She continues to caress me. I have to trust that she heard and understood. "I'm going to smack you until you forget your shame. I'm going to bring you to the brink of immense pleasure. Your punishment is just, Katie."

"Yes, Mistress…" I bury my face in my hands. "Thank you, Mistress."

After a quaint chuckle, Ira thwacks me with the crop.

It's a different pain from her bare hand, which until now is the only thing I've experienced. While Ira's hand is harsh, but intimate, the crop offers such a unique touch and narrow pelt that I'm almost coming from that first thwack alone. Coming! I can barely believe it.

The leather stings. That's the best way to describe it. An aching, sudden sting that awakens neurons that have never been stimulated before. I brace myself against the ottoman, panting, my moans falling so freely from my lips that I'm sure to get punished for it.

Soreness settles in.

My lips are trembling, and I hold in a sob. When Ira strikes the far side of my ass with the crop – a place yet untouched – I cry out in pure pain. "Pink," I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping I don't have to say the more obstinate word.

I've spanked a ton of subs before. Including with a crop. I know how partners react to them. Some people love having those welts cover their asses for a few days. Others sit there screaming, begging, wanting nothing but a hard spanking to bring them to nirvana.

Then there's me, on the verge of tears.

"Ah, Katie." Her tender touch on my wounded flesh makes me squirm. "I wish you could see how stunning you are right now. So pink all over." Her thumb dips between my thighs and toys with my slit. Ira pokes me, sinking that thumb into me to the first knuckle. I gasp. I can't tell if it feels good or not. I'm so overwhelmed with pain and that deep ache of a spanking that any pleasure I feel is…

Is so fucking good.

"You're not letting go of your ill-feelings yet. I am not going to stop until I hear you crying out in ecstasy. Then I'll know you're ready to obey me for the rest of the night."

Her hand holds my hip, bringing me against her prosthetic. Oh, fuck. Even through the pain, all I can think about is her sinking it deep within me, fucking me in this position until we both come.

Instead, she moves her hand back and hits me with her spread palm.

That's it. I accept. She really is going to spank me until I scream for her to stop or I finally give her what she wants.

What I want.

Each strike of her hand or crop, all over my ass, my thighs, and even on top of my pussy, reminds me that I'm here to have this done to me. I willingly walked into this. I knew she was probably going to spank me again tonight. I knew there would be restraints. Pain. Dirty talk. I spent all of last night thinking about it, wishing Ira was there with me so she could whisper her reassurances into my ear.

"It's okay to want this, Katie. It's okay to let go of your power. It doesn't make you weak. It doesn't mean you aren't respected. All it means is that you're human. You need to release your anxieties like anyone else. This is how you want to do it."

"Thank you, Mistress," I whimper, wondering if she can hear me over the snap of the stinging crop. You know what? I don't even feel it anymore. My flesh is so numb that all I get off on is the sound of the leather meeting my soiled skin. My legs shake, trying to keep me up. It's barely working. I'm about to completely lose it. "I'm gonna come, Mistress!"

Perhaps it's impeccable timing. Or maybe Ira still has enough of her bearings to hit me once more, a raging sting spreading through my body and making me fucking fuck you holy shit.

She's not penetrating me. She's not stroking my clit or pinching a nipple. All Ira has done is strike my ass, and here I am, panting into the ottoman as my thighs shake in orgasm. Wetness covers my thighs in quick, gushing trickles.

I'm already spread, so it's not hard for Ira to see what has happened.

"Did that feel good?" she softly asks. "Did you come because you were turned on?"

"Y… yes, Mistress." I'm in a daze. A disbelieving daze.

"Good girl." The crop lands beside me on the ottoman. "You're starting to learn. Now…" I feel her behind me, her strength, her emotions, her body as the head of the prosthetic pushes into my wet folds. Groaning, I bow my head, and I barely notice Ira pull apart my twist and take my long hair into her hand. "It's time for me to see how well you can really obey. We'll start by seeing how well you can control yourself."

I hold my breath.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Katie. Fuck you hard and fast, and your goal is to not come."

She must be joking.

"You don't think I'm serious? You haven't earned the right to come again. You're going to amuse and pleasure me first. If you come too soon? I will punish you… and you will not like my punishment." She pinches my tender flesh, and I grimace. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." Not coming? I'm a woman, damnit. Part of the beauty of being female is endless orgasms if someone plays it right!

I have to remind myself that this is about orgasm denial. I'm not used to that on my end.

Ira's finger dips into me, and she remarks on how wet and eager I am. I barely hear her. Even when her finger enters my mouth and I taste myself on her, all I can think about is how sore my ass is and what a sadist this woman can be.

God, I kinda love it.

"Oh my shit," I mutter, eyes closing as Ira teases my opening. "Please, fuck me…"

She clicks her tongue, pulling back out. "I like to hear you beg, Katie, but don't get too eager. Remember, you're not supposed to come. This isn't about you. It's about me."

I know that. What is she waiting for? She thinks I can't control a fucking orgasm? She's lucky to get me off purely from vaginal stimulation, I mean…

The world goes black as she thrusts into me.

It's crude. It hurts a little, especially with my sore ass, but holy fuck am I glad to have her do it, finally!

She holds still within me, her self-indulgent groan sinking into my chest. All I feel is Avalon putting XL in the name, my inner walls resting snugly around Ira Mathison's genderbending prosthetic. Fuck me, it feels so… comfortable.

Never before has someone fucked me like this before. I didn't even know it was possible. What have I been doing on the giving end of a strap-on all this time? I need to find those poor people and apologize for such subpar skill. If only I had known…

Ira slowly pulls out. Wetness drips from her, from me. There's laughter. It might be her. It might be me.

Then she slams back into me, and I don't fucking care what she says. She can say anything. Do anything. All I care is that Ira Mathison is deep within me, her hands clamping down on my hips as she thrusts with increasing speed.

In this position, every thrust shoots me forward and pulls me back again. My hair is still tight in her hand, and she pulls, yanking my head back and making my scalp tingle in pain like my ass. My earrings clink against my neck. My collar tugs at my hairs. Everything is a mixture of pain and pleasure, and when Ira calls me her "dirty girl," all I know is that yes, yes I am her damned to hell dirty girl.

I'm not used to this debasement. A dominant bending me over, chaining me to their home, and then using my body however they wish. The movements she conducts are not with my pleasure in mind. Her prosthetic doesn't search for my G-spot. It doesn't pull out and rub against my clit. It's raw desire on her end. Someone who takes what they want and leaves the rest.

She's taking me. I'm what she wants. What I leave behind is up to me.

This shouldn't make me come. Not sex like this. It might get me wetter, it may satisfy my craving to feel full and fucked, but it's not going to give me an orgasm. It shouldn't, anyway.

Yet here we are, my body starting to shudder because my brain is latched onto the idea of Ira Mathisons using me and it's so…

It's so…

Liberating.

This fucking hot woman with her talented moves wants me. She wants to rescue me from the evil thoughts that constantly torment my head. Not being good enough for my family. Not being accomplished enough for the business world. Nobody taking me seriously because they see a woman playing around until she gets married. People talking behind my back and saying that I overcompensate with Topping because I'm too insecure to do anything else.

Well, how about this, huh? Is this good enough? Is dressing like this and having Ira grip my hips, pull my hair, and fuck me wide open good enough?

Oh my God, her fingers are so strong, so possessive on my flesh. She's not even touching my clit. She's grunting, though. Such a fucking hot grunt that sends so many shivers through me. She wants me. She can't control herself. I'm her darling, her love, her baby…

Her Katie.

It's happening. My brain explodes in relief, in the knowledge that I can release everything I ever thought I knew I wanted. It doesn't matter. This is where we are now. This is who I am in this moment.

Her sub.

"Oh, God!" I don't merely praise some faceless entity. I praise Ira as well, my mind completely losing it. All I feel is her crashing into me, taking me so roughly that my legs jerk back and forth from the force of her thrusts. My own arousal is running down my legs. My teeth rip apart my bottom lip. I hear her warning to not come, that she can feel me tightening up, but I don't care.

I can't control it. This is so fucking hot. I'm her bitch. The only one I trust like this, and now I'm her fucking plaything.

My head hurls back. I scream as she pulls my hair.

That's right. I'm clamping down on her prosthetic, refusing to let it go as I ride out a long, hard orgasm that even blows my fucking mind.

"Ira!" I whine, her thrusts now completely overtaking me. I'm rocking on my legs. I'm watching the carpet and the ottoman rush back and forth as my head bobs from our movements.

I'm coming.

"Oh, shit." Ira's fingers are digging so hard into me that there's no possible escape. Not from her. Not from my…

From the one who owns me.

A heavy groan fills the room. I feel so small. So helpless. So this is not my problem. Whatever is going through Ira's head as she starts to come, it's no business of mine.

I'm too preoccupied with what's about to happen.

"Do it! Please!" I long for it. To feel that warmth, that sense of her claiming me and further turning me into the very thing people hate me for. "Please! Ira! Do it!"

I've never sounded so desperate before. My orgasm lasts longer, taking my eyes away from me, my sense of smell, and even my ability to do anything but grip the ottoman and feel this wondrous person lose herself.

The first hit is the most satisfying. That sense of "I did it, I got her to do it…" I moan from the reprieve.

We've slowed down, but as I'm about to collapse toward the ottoman, Ira grunts, and I realize that we're not done. This is the third time this has happened. This is the most traditionally unromantic position to be in. But shit-fuck-shit, was that the best!

She carefully pulls out of me. I know why she's being cautious. I'm so deliriously wet that I don't know where I end and her ego begins. My inner walls are shaking in that post-orgasmic reverie they love so much, and Ira is the collateral damage of the quake inside me.

It's too much.

Just as I'm about to close my eyes and focus on the pleasure spreading through my body, Ira snatches my hair again, pulling me up and smacking my ass so hard that I cry out.

But I don't say my safe words. Because I know what I've done. I must be punished.

"You're a bad, bad slut." Ira's fingers curling around my neck are almost as menacing as the words she calls me. Yes, yes Ira. I am a fucking slut. I came even though you told me not to, because I could not help myself. I sucked the soul out of your body and am now making a mess all over your carpet. Then again, not my fault you fucked me so wide open that here we are.

"Did I, or did I not, tell you not to come?" She squeezes my breast through my corset. "You had one rule to obey, Kathleen. One fucking stupid simple rule."

She's angry at me. Like, legitimately angry.

It dawns on me – she didn't plan on that yet. She was going to fuck me to get us both riled up for more fun. Then I went and started coming, and the next thing she knew, she was so turned on that she couldn't help but indulge my crazy cries. I'm a bad sub for not obeying…

…And for embarrassing her Mistress.

"I should cut you loose and throw you out." She smacks my ass again, and I squeal, if only because it stings. "I have no use for a sub who does this to me. Give me one good reason to keep you here, Kathleen. Tell me why I should give you another chance. Why should I even bother punishing and training you to fit my vision? You're a pointless endeavor."

Would someone please shoot me? This is turning me on again, my core echoing her sentiments as I lose my shame down my thigh. Gravity is on my side.

"I'm sorry," I whimper, unsure of what else I should say. "Please forgive me, Mistress."

One last spank to make me think. "You're not sorry. You're a hungry wench who went ahead and took what she wanted. I don't have room for women like that in my life. If you're my sub, then you are obedient. You didn't even try, Kathleen."

Oh, Ira, say my name like that some more…

"You've gotta be kidding me." Ira snaps her fingers in front of my face. With a clink of the handcuffs, my wrists are freed, but I can't bring myself to move. I rely on Ira hoisting me up under the arms and dragging me to her bed, where I'm unceremoniously plopped like a doll.

I don't care. I'm giggling like a drunken idiot because that's basically what I am.

Ira all but confirms it when she snaps her fingers again, trying to get my attention. "Fucking hell." She sits up, exasperated. "You're in sub-shock."

Can't tell if she's impressed or not. Annoyed? Definitely. Frustrated? Probably. Being sub-shocked doesn't help Ira Mathison get the experience she's after. A shocked sub like me isn't going to get much training accomplished.

Don't know what it means? I'm not sure if it's used outside of our circles, but it's a word we use around here to describe the phenomenon of submissive partners losing their fucking minds and becoming delirious. It's not the same as subspace. Subspace is when you're so entranced by the scene that you achieve a submissive's trance-like nirvana. Sub-shock is different. It represents me, Kathleen Allen, a woman who got such a good spanking and fucking that she's laughing at the ceiling and doesn't care that her Domme has other plans for the evening. Fuck off, Ira! I'm having a good time!

"Katie," her voice is stern, her breath on my cheek as she climbs onto the bed and kneels next to me. "Come back, darling." Her hands part my legs and rub my mound. Hey, honey, I had that waxed a few days ago, so be gentle, okay? Nah, it wasn't her request. I enjoy going into spas and having women named Prudence rip out my pubic hairs.

I'm fucking laughing.

"You're filthy." Ira bites my ear and touches the top of my slit. Bouncing around like this makes my bruised ass hurt, but my brain doesn't even register the pain now. "Not only did you disobey me, but you made a mess all over my floor." Her tsking is only turning me on again. Go ahead, Ira. Get me ready for your round two. Assuming you can handle it.

She opens the nightstand and pulls out individual tissues. They're shoved into my hand, which I look at with great amusement.

"Clean yourself up." Ira keeps my legs open, as if she's putting my pussy and all its delectable contents on display. "Seriously, Kathleen, you're a mess."

"Why don't you do it?" I toss a tissue at her, giggling when she doesn't bother to catch it. "Maybe I like it the way it is."

"Well, it didn't take long for that opinion to spring up." I can't quite read Ira – then again, I'm a bit busy in my mind here – but if I didn't know any better I'd think she didn't know what to do with me.

"Mf!" Her lips are hard against mine. Probably because she didn't realize we were kissing until I pulled her down by the shirt. Oh my sweet hell, this is the hottest thing in the world. I've got her lips on mine, and the last of our mutual orgasm tearing me up inside. Who am I kidding? It's not the last of it. I'm being greedy and holding on to whatever I can.

Ira puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me away.

"No."

"No?" I pout, attempting to close my legs on her. "Why not? Don't you want me?"

She shoves the tissues back into my hand. "You don't get to decide what goes on around here. You're acting like a Domme. A selfish one. Pull yourself together."

I'm sobering up, and I don't like the tone in her voice. Come on, Ira, don't you find me hot? How many women like me do you get all to yourself? Don't lie to me. I'm one of the first.

Now get over here and make more love to me.

"Kathleen!"

Gradually, I come back to my senses. I realize what I've done, and the reaction on my face is immediate. The only good thing to come out of my sudden embarrassment is that Ira's countenance softens. I doubt she wanted to get stern like that with me. Ever.

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah, Katie." Ira is still standing beside the bed, one hand clamped on my nearest thigh. "Oh, my God."

I was wrong. There was one other good thing to happen.

My whole body is relaxed. Not just my body. My mind. My soul.

Being sub-shocked jostled something within me. Now when I look at Ira, I don't see someone trying to control me. Well, okay, yes, I do see that, but it doesn't scare me.

It comforts me.

She has seen me at some of my lowests. Not only professionally, but here in the bedroom, where I've screamed in anger, cried in fear, and collapsed in exhaustion because I'm pushing myself to limits I never even knew existed for me. Every time I got emotional, she stayed by my side.

I knew that Ira was a patient dominant. Stern, but good. She doesn't want to hurt me. She wants to tame me until I can play these scenes as they need to be played out. It's not only erotic fantasy. There's a reason this is a lifestyle for many people more hardened than me.

"You need to clean yourself up." The tissues are in my hand yet again. "Do that for me?"

I'm struck with a new shame. It has nothing to do with sex. I don't feel ashamed that I'm wearing sex clothes in Ira's bed while my bodily fluids make a mess everywhere. Hey, that's her problem once I leave. Nope, I'm ashamed because I…

Because I lost control and disobeyed my Domme.

My Domme. My Domme.

"Ira…" I clasp her wrist, sitting up and shoving the tissues between my legs. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

She looks at me, plucking my hand off her and glancing at what I'm doing below. She pulls over a trashcan for me to toss the tissues into. "It's all right, Katie. A lot of this is still new to you. This is why we do training. However, I need you to stop fighting me. I have a limit to my patience, no matter how hot you are."

Gee, thanks.

"Now are you going to cooperate with me? You know that you need punishing, right?"

Her hand lightly grips my thigh. I look at it, at her, at the last tissue I have in my hand that is covered in both me and her. Neither of us acknowledges it as I toss it into the trash.

"Yes, Mistress," I say, eyes downcast. "I'm ready to obey and to accept my punishment."

Ira wraps an affectionate arm in front of me, pulling me toward her chest. "Don't be hard on yourself." Her other hand strokes my hair, now tangled around my shoulder. "I'll let you in on a secret. I enjoyed that just as much."

I hardly doubt that's a secret, granted how hard she came, but I don't say anything. I've got the collar on, and I'm learning to behave. I'm ready to behave.

Something frightening is happening. I want to submit. I want to turn her on and make her want me more. I want to feel what it's like when Ira Mathison turns me into her vessel of copulation. Feel her hands on me. Around me. Inside me.

This whole giving up control business isn't so bad.

"Tell me what you did wrong," Ira says, walking to the other side of her bedroom. She opens a closet, which on the surface is full of pressed jackets and some shirts to go with them. They're pushed out of the way so she can rummage for something in the back. "I want to make sure you understand your indiscretions."

"Well…" I don't watch what she's doing. Instead, I curl my legs up to my chest and study her bedspread. Cream-colored. Little swirls in the designs. You'd never guess her family owned a bunch of hotels. "You told me not to come, and then I came anyway. You're right. I didn't even try to hold it back. I didn't care. I felt good and wanted to come, even without your permission."

"That's good. What else?"

"I didn't act with propriety afterward."

"That's not really your fault. But you're right, it was inappropriate."

She comes back and drops something heavy onto the bed. Chains.

"Ira… I mean, Mistress…"

"You can't be trusted to keep your hands to yourself." She snaps the attached handcuffs to my wrists and pulls me back. There's a reason a dominant like her has a headboard with wire poles. Before I know it, I'm immobilized up top. Down below.

Gloriously down below.

She lifts one leg up, bending me at the knee before clasping another chain around the ankle. The chain attaches to the bed. Then the other leg.

Man, I can barely fathom it. I'm locked into one of the most erotic positions of my life. My hands above my head. My ankles chained to the same headboard, forcing my legs up and spread. I can't close them. I can't move anything.

I can't respond, aside with my voice and my extremities.

"The more submissive you become, the more irresistible you are." Ira dusts her hands and pushes the hair out of my face. "How does it feel, being so forcibly exposed?"

I take a deep breath. "I think I like it."

"You like having your pussy open to me like that?"

No bigger feeling of being exposed, that's for sure. "Yes, Mistress."

"What does it feel like?"

"It feels like it's ready for you at any moment." I'm not lying. Even though I cleaned myself up, I'm still so damned aroused. I don't want this to end. I want Ira to stop playing around and slam herself in there. I'm so open. So ready.

So tied down and ready to accept whatever she gives me.

It doesn't matter… because anything she gives me? It's for me. It's a part of her. She's sharing herself as much as I am baring my soul and fears.

"And…" Ira looks at me, her bemusement at my sudden words too beautiful to capture. "My cunt is really empty."

She leans down, leaning over me, playing with the ribbons in my corset. One by one they come untied, my breasts spilling from their cups. Ira pinches one nipple and makes me hiss through my teeth. "Cunt, huh? Is that what you want to call it?"

"You can call it whatever you want, Mistress."

"Oh, I've got lots of names for these." Her thumb tugs at my opening, my slick folds exposing how wet I still am. The scent is so powerful that I almost turn my nose away. It's not just me. It's her scent, too. An intoxicating scent that reminds me of what we're here to do and accomplish. "I've got one too, if you haven't astutely noticed. I also like to call mine my cunt. It bites, doesn't it? It's powerful. Makes the assholes quiver in their weak knees. Women gasp, men narrow their eyes. Because how dare we take that kind of ownership of our bodies?"

Ira looks into my eyes as her thumb crushes my clit. I writhe beneath her, a squeal of pleasure emanating from my body.

She pulls her hand back. "Sensitive, is it? Considering how hard you came – when you weren't supposed to – I am not surprised." Her thumb grinds back into it, and I'm gasping, my body unable to process this sudden stimulation. "Serves you right."

"I'm sorry," I whimper. I don't know if I'm supposed to speak, but I take a chance.

Ira unbuttons her shirt and shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor before bending down to kiss my toe wiggling in the air. Her binder is close enough to the color of her flesh that I barely notice it. "Not as sorry as you're going to be."

Oh, Lord. I am going to need mercy.

"You only have one command." Ira climbs onto the bed and settles between my legs, hand covering my mound. "Try to come. It's not going to be easy."

I know it's not. She's going to deny me as part of my punishment.

Sure enough, my torture begins.