“Tap your feet together five times. Use as much motion as you can.”
I did, and he said, “That’s your safeword for this portion of the evening. Five times. I’ll see them and stop.”
In truth, I didn’t want a safeword. I didn’t want to be able to stop him. However, it was clear he wanted me to have one, so I didn’t argue.
He played with my pussy and clit the entire time he face-fucked me. When my knees came up, he slapped my inner thighs. Hard. Ten to each the first time. Twenty the second. Thirty the next. I did it five times, and fifty to each thigh had nearly made me come undone. I managed to keep them down, after that.
He didn’t just play with my cunt. No, he tortured it. He used his belt, his hand. Strike after strike, and then he’d grab my clit and twist and pull and pinch. He stuck four fingers in my cunt and pressed his knuckles like he might try to fist me, but thankfully, he didn’t.
And all the while, his dick went in and out of my throat. It stretched my jaw. He ordered me to fold my lips over my teeth, and they dug into the inside of each lip.
When he finally came deep, deep inside my throat, tears ran down my face into my ears because I needed an orgasm so fucking bad, and I knew I wasn’t getting one.
Through all the torture and whipping, I wasn’t injured badly enough I could even argue he had to let me orgasm to change. I’d be fine and we both knew it.
He rubbed something on my muscles from my neck all the way to my feet. He told me it would help with the bruising, and I was disappointed when I wasn’t striped with bruises the next day. Was that warped? Probably, but he’d hurt me bad and I had nothing to show for it! Well, not nothing, there was some bruising, but it didn’t accurately reflect the pain.
He edged me four times before it was time for me to go to class the following morning. He also fed me steaks, bacon, and homemade blueberry pancakes with blueberry syrup and lots of whipped cream.
Yeah. I could get used to this.
And in a weird way, the orgasm denial thing worked for me. I’d resented Able when he’d done it, but he hadn’t put me on my honor. He’d literally taken my clit when he didn’t want me to orgasm. Dementor had given me a choice. The choice kind of sucked, but still, if I’d ended things right then with a facefucking, I’d have been able to get myself off in the shower this morning, or I could’ve pulled off into an empty parking lot and masturbated on my way to school. I didn’t resent D for it because I’d agreed to it.
I mean, sure, I was frustrated and a little pissed during the edging sessions when they ended and I was still so horny I wanted to cry, but I also adored him for doing it and not backing off.
Chapter Twenty
Ember
Our week went better than I’d dared hope. We had dinner together Monday evening since Blaze is closed on Mondays. He worked at the spa during the day, but was home in time to have dinner on the table when I came home exhausted from a martial arts class. I’d managed most of my homework between classes, so I could give him my entire evening.
And no. I didn’t get any orgasms, but he had three.
I asked him to wake me up and fuck me when he got home Tuesday night, which I suppose was actually Wednesday morning. Sure, it would be yet another time I’d be denied an orgasm, but that was due to my choice. It felt important he had full use of me at night. He shouldn’t be penalized because I wanted monogamy.
And wake me he did, every night without fail — though he was clear that I needed to text him to let him know if I got in bed later than usual and needed sleep.
I had a big project due Thursday, and I was up late finishing it Wednesday night, but I didn’t let him know. The very idea of telling him I wasn’t available hit a sour spot inside me.
By the time I left my final class Thursday, I’d run out of gas. Me, not my car. I blew off my evening jiu-jitsu class to go home and fall asleep. Dementor wouldn’t be home. He wouldn’t know.
Only he did know, and I was just drifting off when he came in the door. He sat down beside me on the bed and smoothed my hair. “You okay? Your scent is off. It was off this morning, too.”
“I just didn’t get much sleep. I need a nap.”
A good thirty seconds of silence, and I scented his displeasure. “I’m guessing you stayed up to finish your speech and polish it, and didn’t text me to let me know?”
Yes, but he needed to understand why. “I like my middle-of-the-night time with you. I love being awakened and manhandled and used for your pleasure.”
“So, when you promised to let me know, you were lying?”
My eyes finally opened and stayed open. “No! I meant it when I said it, but I’ve survived on a lot less sleep, and I didn’t want to dictate terms to you!”
“Sit. Up.”
I did, and blinked my eyes a few times to try to properly awaken.
“You want to be my toy, and I’m more than happy with the arrangement, but there has to be limits so it doesn’t spill into your everyday life. I have to be able to trust you to be honest about your needs, and you’ve just broken that trust.”
My heart tumbled into my feet. Fuck, that wasn’t what I’d wanted to do.
“Consequences. Take my shirt off and go stand in the corner in the living room. Pull the end table beside the sofa out into the middle of the room first, so we’ll have plenty of space. I need to get something from the kitchen and I’ll meet you in there.”
When he came to me, he had a large bowl of uncooked rice. He had me step back, and then he distributed the rice on the floor.
I was now completely naked, and he was fully dressed, which always makes you feel even more naked. He pointed to the floor. “On your knees, hands behind your head.”
I followed his instructions and immediately realized how badly the rice was going to hurt. I was wrong, of course, because it ended up hurting so fucking much worse before it was over. He had me lean forward with my hands clasped behind my head, and then ordered me to brace my elbows on the two walls. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he had me pull my feet off the floor so all my weight was on my knees.
“Fifteen minutes.”
I assumed I’d be able to zone out and find a way to enjoy the pain. If you accept the punishment and don’t fight it, it’s usually easier.
But Dementor knew what he was doing, possibly more-so than Able, and I hadn’t thought anyone would ever be able to handle me like the Owl King had.
At first, my spine arched to try to save my knees, but this made my back ache and I had to straighten it, which pushed the rice into my knees even more. I don’t think I was more than a few minutes into it before my body was trembling from the stress of the position and the excruciating pain. My eyes watered, and before long I was crying.
And yet, it was chilly in the corner, and my nipples went so hard they screamed for attention, which of course had my clit aching with need. The strain on so many muscles of my body combined with the pain made me break out in a sweat. The small trembles turned into outright shakes, but I fought to hold the position despite the pain. How many times had Able or one of his people told me punishment is supposed to hurt?
And every tiny movement was another lightning bolt of pain to my knees. I whimpered and sometimes yelped when I needed to make a big adjustment to keep my balance.