Page 62 of Release Me

Once both of her arms are secure, it’s a little easier to get her legs into the restraints near the base of the table.

When I’m all finished, I take a step back and catch my breath. Other than when I’m working out, I haven’t expended this much energy in a long time. I walk to the small refrigerator next to the armoire and pull out a bottle of water. As I guzzle down the cool liquid, I watch Brynn struggle fruitlessly against her bonds.

Finally she seems to have worn herself out, and she collapses onto the bench in surrender. She is a sweaty mess, her hair is tangled, and she’s trying desperately to work air into her lungs. I walk to her and offer her some water, which she refuses, like I expected she would.

“Okay then, let’s get started.”

Walking back to the armoire, I pull open one of the drawers and take the paddle out. She hates the paddle. She told me so after the day I tried out the different instruments on her, and her hatred for it was reinforced last week when I disciplined her as a result of our argument.

“You’re to count after each strike. If you can’t follow directions, the next set will be more painful than the one before it. If you think I’m lying, feel free to test me.”

Not wasting any time, I strike her left ass cheek and wait for her to count it out. But she doesn’t. I strike her right ass cheek a little harder than I did the left, but again there’s no counting. Switching between her cheeks, each blow gets a little harder than the last, but she hasn’t uttered a single word.

I stand back and hold off on striking her again. I want to leave her wondering what I’m up to. Not knowing exactly when I’m going to begin again. When she begins to fidget, I can tell she’s getting anxious and continue. I skip the next level on the pain scale and bump it up a notch. I’m so over this. I want to know what the fuck is going on, and I want to know now.

Striking her left ass cheek again, this time she cries out.

“Count.”

Nothing.

I strike the right cheek with a little more intensity, and again I receive another painful cry.

“I hate you.” She finally breaks her silence as she cries out three of the most heartbreaking words I’ve ever heard strung together before.

It’s certainly not what I was expecting to hear, but at least she’s talking. I strike her again just as hard, quickly to both cheeks before speaking.

“Why do you hate me, Brynn?”

Another strike to her left cheek.

“Because you brainwashed me,” she insists. “Did you learn that trick from your precious, stupid Domme, Richard?”

What?

I have never been more utterly confused than I am right now. Trying to keep my composure, I continue.

“How did I brainwash you, Brynn?”

Two more strikes, but this time I don’t increase the intensity.

“You convinced me trusting you would be a safe thing to do. You made me believe giving you control over my life was in my best interest. You’ve turned me into some weak ass bitch over the past month. That’s the only explanation because before you, I was fine. Before you I only had one person to rely on and that was me. And I never fucking let myself down.”

She begins sobbing as hard as she was last night all over again. There has to be something else going on, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

“What aren’t you telling me, Brynn?”

I strike her harder than I ever thought I would. I hate it. I hate using this method of punishment, Brynn won’t be able to sit down for at least a week by the time we’re through, but I am desperate for answers.

“Ow!Fuck!” she cries. “Stop it!”

I deliver two more strikes and her tears turn silent. That’s how hard she cries.

“Richard…” She takes in a huge gulp of air in between sobs. “Please s—stop.”

Her begging breaks my fucking heart, and I can’t stop the tear that runs down my face. But I started this punishment determined to get answers, and I’m not backing down.

Another strike to her right cheek, and she fights to breathe through another silent sob.

---