Page 69 of Violent Cravings

Not this time, though.

He refuses to let me in on whatever it is bothering him. But he does turn his head to me, his blue eyes finally meeting mine, looking as if he's just made a resolution.

"Did you come, doll?" he asks, locking me down with his intense gaze.

I blush, inhaling audibly.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't–"

"Did you come?" he interrupts me. "That's all I want to know. It’s an easy question. Be honest."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, I didn't come."

I was so very close – twice – first when he was fucking me, and then when I was touching myself, so desperate to evoke that release he refused me. But he barged in just before I climaxed.

"You didn't make yourself come either?" he probes.

I blush, lowering my eyes. "No, master."

"Good," he says. "Because that's my job. Every single one of your orgasms belong to me while you're here. You know that, doll."

"Yes, master."

"You know that, but you still disobeyed and touched yourself," he says. "You even stole one of my toys."

He's completely calm as he lists all the things I've done to displease him. I remember our first meeting, the day he explained to me the difference between overstepping boundaries and sheer disobedience. Rules, punishments, rewards. Based on what I know, I’ve committed one of the greatest offenses imaginable by stealing a release that belonged to him by touching myself and using a toy that I wasn't supposed to touch when he wasn't around.

"You know I can't let that go unpunished," he adds. It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes, master," I reply in a low voice, nodding in defeat.

My body is already so sore that I don't even want to imagine the magnitude of my punishment. And of course, he knows me well enough to come up with the one thing I hate the most.

He gets up from the bed, holding the end of the leash in his hand and forcing me to follow him, awkwardly stumbling, as I try to keep myself from falling over. I quickly give up and drop to all fours to follow him, the position I know he prefers anyway.

He turns up the light in passing by raising a little switch next to the door. The light is still dimmed, but at least now I can make out more than vague outlines.

He drags me over to the glass cabinet, and soon my worst fear comes true. He opens the door and reaches for the cane, the same fucking cane he used on me during our very first night together.

"Tell you what, doll," he says, weighing the cane in his hands. "I'll use this on you, and I'll make you fucking love it."

He turns around, looking down at me, a mean glint sparkling in his blue eyes. I want to pinch my eyebrows and tell him how ridiculous this sounds to me, but I know this response would only worsen my situation. Still, I can't see how he can even imagine that I could come to love this fucking thing. The cane is nothing but pain, and I can't remember taking any pleasure from it when he used it on me the last time.

He lets go of the leash and drops it to the floor, nodding toward the bed.

"Get back over there, doll," he commands. "Kneel before the bed, and place your elbows on top of it."

I pause only for a second before complying to his command. "Yes, master."

I crawl over to the bed, knowing his eyes are on me every second. I stop when I reach the bed frame, straightening up on my knees. I bend forward, supporting myself on the mattress. I hollow my back, knowing he‘ll ask me to do it anyway.

"Good girl," he praises, noticing my efforts.

I flinch in surprise when, instead of feeling the crushing blow of the cane, his strong hands caress my body. He‘s placed himself behind me and is stroking along both sides of my back, all the way down to my hips. His touch is soothing and electrifying at the same time. He cups my ass, kneading the bruised skin as he pulls my cheeks apart to expose my core to him.

I can't suppress a little moan, even though I try to remain quiet. His hands travel further, assessing every inch of my ass before moving one of them between my legs. He pinches me on the inner side of my thighs to spread my legs further apart. I oblige and am rewarded with a tingling sensation when he reaches between my legs, one of his fingers sliding between my labia and making me jerk at the sensation. I've been so close to coming twice already that my arousal never really subsided, even while I was sitting next to him, fearing punishment. It's always hovered at the surface, ready to take over at the slightest stimulation.

Just like this. His touch is so sensual, so fucking erotic, there's no way for me to withstand it. And I don't want to withstand it. If I'm to expect punishment with the cane, I want to be in the best mental state possible, more aroused than in agony.

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