Her trust awed me. Dylan had held her for two years, raping and torturing her. That she was here, anticipation in her eyes, waiting for me to tie her up and cane her? I was almost completely overwhelmed.
I needed her strength. I needed to know that Dylan hadn’t completely wrecked her, the way he had with Pamela and so many other women and as much as I needed to be brave and whole, she needed the same from me. She needed a dominant to push her to the edge, yet hold her safe. She needed to know that sex wasn’t only about pain. Dominance and submission wasn’t about a meek acceptance of the hand that had been dealt to her. Rather, it was about standing up tall and claiming what she wanted.
“Crawl in.” My voice didn’t betray my thoughts. She instantly obeyed, padding in with a sinuous grace into the room. Once she was in the spot I indicated, she knelt up, her legs parted.
She was beautiful. Perfect. She could never be mine.
I’d deliberately asked her to enter the room the way Sylvia had insisted. I knew what she needed. She’d once told me she couldn’t forget. Today was about creating a different set of memories, to overlay the terrible ones that Sylvia had caused.
If I could help her, I would. It was that simple.
“Good.” I praised her obedience and gestured for her to stand up. She rose and I moved closer. “Hands above your head.” My gaze lowered to her bottom, my fingers caressing her skin, checking on her wounds.
“It’s healing fine,” she volunteered. I could tell she wanted to play. Her body betrayed her arousal. Her nipples had become erect and her legs were parted, waiting for me to touch her.
“Did I ask for an opinion, Jenny?” I bit out and she shook her head instantly. My lips twitched at her response and I brushed a kiss against her velvet-soft shoulder. “You should keep quiet then,” I suggested smoothly.
“Sorry Sir,” she said meekly, yet the undertone of laughter in her voice was obvious. Brat.
I led her to a spot against the wall, pulling a tall, narrow, padded bench from a closet. Two rods stuck out from the centre of the bench, to which I screwed on a dildo and a butt plug. I drizzled some lube over both of them. “Sit, cherie,” I invited.
She lowered herself on the toys, groaning as the twin shafts filled her flesh. “Oh god,” she whimpered, her moan changing to a gasp as the toys started vibrating inside. “Fuck.”
I watched as her eyes went hazy with pleasure. Little tremors shook her body. Her hips ground down on the toys, forcing them deeper into her * and ass. In minutes, she was close to her climax.
“Way too soon,” I chided, as I flicked the button, stopping the vibrations. “Were you thinking of coming without permission?”
Her expression slowly cleared. “No Sir,” she said softly. “I wasn’t.”
“That’s good, cherie,” I said. “Because you don’t want to be punished, trust me.”
The bench was tall enough that her feet didn’t touch the ground. I found leather straps and fastened her thighs to the conveniently placed steel rings on the end of the bench, holding her legs open. Straps circled her ankles as well, tying her to the iron legs of the bench.
“Give me your hands,” I instructed. I buckled leather cuffs around her wrists and drew her hands up in the air, attaching them to a chain that dangled from the ceiling.
She was now completely immobilized. Her body held taut by the restraints around her wrists, her legs spread open. Her puffy, shiny-wet * lips closed around the dildo in her vagina. Her clitoris hid under its hood, but not for long. My bright star was noticeably turned on.
She was ready for the cane.
I had broken the cane Sylvia had used on her in an excess of angry, frustrated rage. I reached for a different one, a rattan cane with a leather handle, swishing it in the air a couple times.
Her eyes clouded with fear at the sound of the cane slicing through the air. I watched her struggle to push her panic away and to keep her breathing even. “Relax.” She responded to the order by inhaling deeply and locking her eyes onto me. “Show me how brave you are.”
She was stronger that anyone I’d ever met. She’d survived Dylan and she’d survived Sylvia, all while retaining her own sense of self. “Yes Sir,” she replied.
To help distract her and also because the sight of her body quivering in pleasure was about the sexiest thing in the world, I turned the vibrators back on. She stiffened instantly, then surrendered. As she fought the waves of lust the dildo and the butt plug were setting off in her body, I started tapping at her body with the cane.
These weren’t full, painful strokes. They weren’t soft taps either. Each stroke was controlled, just enough that it would send a sharp stab of pain, but not so much that her skin would bruise and tear.
I tapped at the soft inside of her thighs, the spot where taut muscle gave way to smooth silkiness. Her creamy breasts received attention, as did the soles of her feet.