Page 38 of Strings Attached
“Please don’t hate me,” I said through tears, gripping his black slacks and holding on as though he might rip me away. “I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to know, but it was wrong of me. I was wrong to do that. Please...I’ll do anything.” I sobbed harder. Every relationship in my life flashed through my mind as Martin’s words repeated. Everything was transactional. I was nothing but a favor.
He grasped my arms and picked me up from the floor. “You’d really do anything for me to forgive you?” His thumbs traced along my skin, and I shivered.
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. Whatever it was, I wanted to prove to him I could be trusted. That I’d never betray him ever again.
He kissed me, and I melted into him. Wasn’t he angry? Why was he being affectionate? When he pulled away, I panted against his lips, my heartbeat fast.
“I forgive you,” he said quietly. “But I still have an ask...”
“Really?” When he nodded, a half-laugh, half-cry left my mouth. I nodded. “Anything.”
He slid his hands to my back. “I want to chain you to a post and whip you.”
It should’ve sounded scary, but I trusted him to know what he was doing. His pleasure was mine, and it was all I wanted to do. He’d forgiven me, and I couldn’t be more relieved.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He took my hand and led me deeper into the room. Near the fire pit, a long wooden post stood floor to ceiling. An old, rusted hook was embedded at the top, and I stared at it warily. “What’s that for?” I pointed at it.
“Sometimes, I hang people from here.” He pushed my hair to the side and kissed the crook of my neck.
“Kinky,” I said with a scoff.
He laughed as he grabbed a pair of handcuffs and a long chain from the shelf. It didn’t take long to adjust the chain so it hung low enough off the hook. He attached the cuffs to the chain, letting them hang there before turning his attention back to me.
“Strip.”
I swallowed hard and, with trembling hands, pulled off my top. It was cooler down here, and goosebumps prickled on my skin as I unclasped my bra. I dropped both to the floor, then pulled down my leggings and panties together and stepped out of them. Standing naked felt suddenly embarrassing. I covered my breasts with my forearms while crossing my thighs a bit.
He smirked. “You acting shy isn’t going to help you get out of this.”
“I’m not trying to,” I shot back. Before I lost my nerve, I walked over to the wooden post and leaned forward against it, raising my arms above my head. He cuffed my wrists, forcing me to tiptoe slightly. Trailing kisses along my spine, he sent shivers all over my body as I stood there at his mercy. My breasts pushed on either side of the post, the texture rough against my skin.
“I plan on making this hurt,” he whispered in my ear as he pushed my hair to the front. “I forgave your betrayal, but you should still be punished, right?”
My pulse shot south, and I let out a whimper. “Yes.”
I turned my head as he walked back to the shelf and grabbed a whip. My eyes widened as I recognized the type; a cat-o’-nine-tails. Not for beginners. It had several braids ending in riding crop tips, which meant each blow would snap against my flesh.
He motioned a finger for me to turn back around, and I did as ordered, not wanting this punishment to be any worse than it already would be.
The first blow came, and I tensed at the cracking sound before it even landed. I screamed, pressing my forehead against the post, trying to catch my breath. My eyes watered with the second one, and I cried harder. I wouldn’t beg for mercy, though; I knew this was necessary. For both of us.
Over and over, he swung, and I shrieked, my back stinging. My lungs burned as though I’d been running without stopping.
“Relax. Don’t resist the pain,” he said between blows. “Breathe and focus.”
I stared at a small crack in the wood, repeating to myself why this was important. It was a show of trust on my side. Taking responsibility for having broken his. For him, it was making sure I never did something like this again.
Before I knew it, the sound of his belt took me away from my concentration, and I stiffened again. Was he going to use that next? His zipper came down, and he sheathed his cock inside me in one thrust. I moaned, standing a bit higher on my tiptoes as he pumped into me as though he’d turned into an animal. He pulled out, and I whimpered at the loss of fullness, but he didn’t stop touching me. Reaching in front of me, he kneaded my breast while his other hand stroked his shaft until...
His cum sprayed all over my back, and I hissed through my teeth as it stung a bit.
He uncuffed me, and I nearly fell. He held me, hands beneath my arms so he could avoid touching my sore back. Gently, he put me on the floor and straightened.
“Are you ready for a bit more?”
Tears dripped onto the cement, but I nodded. Yes. I could do this. Despite the pain, my body trembled with need for him.
