I slap the belt down. The clap of leather to flesh and the soft reverberation through the room of Sara biting back a scream, wipes away the solace of sex in the morning.
I lay the belt on the side table where Sara can see it. The tiny pinprick barbs glisten with blood. Fresh juice for beginning.
I walk over to the play linen closet and pick out the white leather bed cover.
“Sara,” I say, “Get up and replace the sheets with the leather cover. For every drop of blood on our sheets, you will get a punishment.”
Sara looks like she wants to argue. Probably because there is already blood from earlier. But that just illustrates the point of this demonstration. She wants to be subjugated but wants it all her way too. She knows that’s not going to work.
Still, she says, “Yes, Sir.” And starts changing the sheets.
I pull out the blindfold, leg and wrist shackles from the play drawer. And stand back to watch the drama as she tries not to get blood on the sheets and fails.
This is hard for me. To sit back and watch her nude and carrying out orders. She flashes me each time she bends, entirety unintentional. And each time I fight to stop myself from pushing her down and taking her.
The feel of her splayed beneath me. Fighting for breathe, taking her, seeing her fight, then gasping for air.
But, not yet. For now, she is spread out, putting the last corner in place.
When I’m sure it’s solid, I grab her ankle and pull her scrambling to the foot of the bed.
“Shackle each leg. Then hook the shackle to its post.”
The first goes on easy but the second is harder and she strains to get her leg to the post hook.
After straining and stretching, throwing her leg to the post, and spread painfully wide, she looks up at me.
Face blank, I bring my hand up and give her a little golf clap.
“Congratulations, little Slut. You can spread your legs.”
Her face indignant, I lean over and slap her cheek.
“I’m going to make you wish you never said yes to me, you little whore.”
I grab her wrist and drag her so that she’s pulled taught to the edge of the bed. Then shackle her wrist and chain each to their posts.
She’s spread eagle and spots of blood dot the leather. Her green eyes look up at me, filled with need.
I pull out the peeled ginger root I’d been concealing.
Her eyes go wide and she whimpers, “Please, no…”
I feel myself tighten at her fear and lean over her, “What will you do for me if I don’t”
“Anything, anything, ” she pleads.
“Yes, yes, please… please… anything.”
“Well…,” I say, “If it’s anything, then what I want is your pain.”
She bites her lip and nods, clearly thinking she’s getting some other kind of pain.
I lean down and feel the sloppy wet of her pussy. I push the ginger root in. It’s shape pressing against her lips. The bulb root end is pierced with a brace so that I can’t slip inside all the way.
“There. All good. Happy that you could please me?,” I ask.
The sharp gasps of “Yes, sir.” As the burning begins.
“Good, my little Slut. Now, you don’t need to see what’s happening anymore, tied up like you are.”
I strap the blindfold on. Consigning her to sound and pain. For now.
I need to check on Tara.