Breaking My Own Rules Ch. 06

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I awoke lying on the shaggy rug. I wasn't sure if I passed out, or just fell asleep from the emotional and physical exhaustion. His toys had been removed, as well as the makeshift blindfold. I blinked trying to get my eyes to adjust. The light fixture in the room was on a dimmer, apparently, turned very low. I didn't know if this was the special room he had spoken of, but it didn't seem that remarkable to me. There was a large, tall oriental style armoire with a couple of full size drawers in the bottom. I couldn't make out the artwork in the dim light but it looked like it might be a lacquered floral Chinese design. There was a padded sawhorse sort of thing that reminded me of the vault from gymnastics. I really hated gymnastics. In fact I pretty much hated anything that had to do with phys ed. When I sat up, I realized that the shaggy carpet was actually a rug laid on top of the existing carpet, centered to cover maybe half the room. There was what looked like a massage table. And there was a leather chair. He was sitting in it, watching me.

I figured if I was still here and I was still here, he wasn't done with me, and I didn't know if that frightened me or excited me. But I did know that I wanted to try to behave, to avoid further punishment. I had no idea what time it was, but I had to work tomorrow, and I was already treading a narrow line with missed work days. What a mundane, intrusive thought in the midst of the surreal Alice in Wonderland my life had become. I rolled onto my knees and put my palms on my thighs, my eyes downcast and waited for instructions.

After what seemed like forever, he stood and walked over to me, then circled me slowly, as if he was studying me. Then he stepped away to the cabinet, which was now at my back. I heard him open the cupboard doors. "Come here," he commanded. I stood slowly and walked over to where he waited, still keeping my eyes glued to the shaggy rug that my feet sank into. He reached over and raised my chin so that I was looking into the cabinet. I went -- as the novels like to say -- cold. I didn't even know the names of most of the implements of torture that hung within and on the insides of the cupboard doors themselves. Canes, whips, floggers, paddles, crops. "Choose," he ordered. A tremor went through me, and he leaned in close. "Choose or I will," he whispered seductively in my ear. I sucked in a breath and stepped closer to the cabinet. I touched some of the items, shivering to imagine what they would feel like. I finally handed him what I thought was a flogger. It had many thin strips, but they seemed soft, like felt or suede.

"A very good choice," he said, and I felt an inexplicable pleasure at his words. He took my arm and led me over to the sawhorse thing. He swung out small padded braces from underneath the body of the contraption. "Your knees go here. Climb on." I still wasn't sure exactly what position I was supposed to take, but his palm between my shoulders pushing me down to a supine position on the padded top pretty much answered that question. He fussed around, adjusting the knee pads, then pulling me back so that my ass hung partially off of the end. I grasped the front legs of the apparatus with my hands as he ran his hand over my hair and leaned close to my ear. "How many times did you come without my permission?"

"Four, Sir," I answered, desperately hoping that that meant four strikes of the flogger. Silly me.

"Yes, and four times twenty is eighty. Isn't that right, cherie?"

I was gasping and he hadn't even struck me yet, but I didn't dare not answer. "Yes, sir."

"Now, my darling, it is very important that you do not move. Can you do that?"

"No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. I don't think I can stay still." I was begging and I wasn't even sure for what. But then he answered me.

"Do you want me to bind you?"

I actually said it. "Please, Sir. Please bind me."

He moved back to the chest and opened one of the drawers, pulling out short segments of rope. He then proceeded to tie my wrists to rings embedded in the legs of the sawhorse. I hadn't noticed them before in the dim light, but now, being so much closer, I realized there were a number of such rings, to accommodate different positions, I supposed. He did the same with my knees, then adjusted the padded rests downward so that I was pulled even tighter against the padded top. Finally, he pulled a strap from beneath the padded crossbar and pulled it over the small of my back, cinching it tight so that my ass was thrust even higher. "How is that?" he asked.

"Thank you, sir," I replied. Incongruously, he had made me feel safe. I knew I couldn't screw up and earn even more punishment. At least until he ordered me to count.

The first slap of the flogger fell on my back, and the soft sound of the contact was more intense than the pain. I had a flash of confidence. I could get through this. I could make him proud of me. More blows fell, on the backs of my thighs, on my calves, even on the soles of my feet. He swept my hair off my back and the lashes fell from my neck to my ass and back again. I dutifully counted. At some point around thirty, I realized that my skin was becoming highly sensitized. The blows were not falling any harder, but the contact was progressively becoming more intense. I knew, had I not been tightly bound, I never would have been able to be still. At fifty, it was becoming hard to keep count. The intensity, more overwhelming than pain would have been, was flooding my mind, demanding my entire attention.

Somehow, I made it to eighty. I was drenched in sweat, and gasping for breath. He was there, kissing my cheek and my forehead. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, and I literally felt a glow from his praise. A moment later, he was squirting some liquid all down my back and legs. The cold of the liquid against my superheated skin was like a burning, but then his hands were there, gently rubbing it in, cooling me down, soothing me. Still, he didn't release my bindings. And the burning had moved from my skin to my pussy. I needed him, wanted him to fuck me so bad, but I bit my lip and said nothing. No more punishment today. Anyway, it didn't matter. He knew what I needed, and when he had completely rubbed the soothing liquid into my skin, he was there, slowly pressing inside me. He even took care to grip my hips from underneath where the flogger hadn't reached. He started slow and gradually increased in speed, drawing his pleasure out and giving me time to change my focus from the flogging to the fucking. We came together, as if he had orchestrated it. Maybe he had.