Page 210 of Sinning for Santa

“So Mr Marx. You kidnap me, possess me, turn me into your sex slave, knock me up, twice, marry me, and now lure me into your sex attic. What are you going to do with me now?”

Slowly undoing my shirt, I move to the wall of tools and instruments, and study the array of floggers, whips, cuffs, ropes and various other tools I can use on my little mouse.

Shucking off my shirt, I select a braided leather whip and turn back to face Jaxcen as I slap it against my palm.

“I think we’ll start with making that fine arse of yours nice and red.”

She nods, a very willing participant these days, our kink games having evolved quite a lot since the first night I made her confess to me on her knees. We have upped the intensity of our sessions together over the years, so she’s not at all shocked by what she sees.

Making quick work of her wedding dress, she drapes it over a chair and stands before me completely naked, not bothering with any fabric barriers, and that’s how I know she’s already primed for me.

“Give me a level?” I ask, and her cheeks heat as she considers it.

She’s normally faster at choosing what sort of session we will have. I leave it up to her to decide how severe she wants it. When she’s pregnant, I refuse to do anything but mild BDSM, but outside of that she mostly chooses moderate, only selecting severe a couple of times when she was struggling with those demons that sometimes creep in, making her feel guilt and shame.

“Jax?” I urge, and the moment her gaze drops to the floor, I already know what she’s going to say.

“Severe.”

I’ve never questioned her need for me to actually deliver her real punishments before, but right now, I’m confusedas fuck, because today is our wedding day. She should be happy. Celebrating. Not wracked with shame.

“But—”

Her eyes, brewing with a storm I’m not privy to, glare at me. “Severe.” She repeats and all I can do is stare at her for a moment.

“Please,” she asks quietly, and even though I’m confused, I know I’ll find out through this session what’s plaguing her so much that she wants to be punished on her wedding night.

“Bend over the bench.” I point to the padded bench that has links for restraints on it. I won’t use that now, but I can’t fucking wait to give everything in here a thorough test run eventually.

Doing as I ask, Jaxcen goes to the bench, bending over its A-frame so her arse is up in the air, and I move up behind her and tap my feet to the insides of her ankles.

“Wider.”

She shifts her stance wider, holding on to a bar near her hair as it dangles down, and I take the nearby lube and gloss up her arsehole, before hunting down a nice big plug, and lathering it up too.

When I part her cheeks and press it to her puckered rose, she relaxes, opening her tight hole to me, and I slip the plug inside.

“Oh,” she moans and I chuckle.

“Yeah, you know what’s coming, don’t you?”

She wriggles a little over the bench, like the idea of me fucking her arse is turning her on.

She’s become accustomed to my cock in that part of her, especially during the time of the month she could be ovulating over the past few years since she wanted to hold off on having more children until after we were married, and since I need to fuck her daily, during those days, her puckered rose is all mine.

“I do know what’s coming,” she admits. “But I thought you’d want to save all your cum for… well, you know.”

I chuckle. I do know.

“I never said Iwas going to cum in your arse, little mouse. Just fuck it.”

My words make her squirm, and she gets impatient.

“Oh, come on. Just looking at you all day has been edging me,” she moans, so I give her what she wants, and strike the whip.

“Are you begging already?” I snap, and she squeaks, and wriggles her arse some more.

“Yes, I am. I’m aching for you.”

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