Page 64 of Submissive Lies

“Legs apart,” he ordered. A second later he smacked his palm sharply against my thigh. “Wider.”

I spread them, hands splayed to balance myself as I did so.

He moved behind me, and then his hand pushed against the center of my lower back.

“Bend over.”

I did as he commanded. I leaned over the edge of the bed, resting on my elbows, and spread my legs apart a little further. I could hear him back there, the sound of latches on his toolbox coming undone. I took a chance and peeked back, looking to see what he was doing. He was bent to the box, pulling two lengths of rope out. Watching as he knelt behind me, I felt the cold metal of the pipe as he placed it across my ankles.

“Polypro would be better here. Or some nice jute. But… beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” His voice was so relaxed, so amused at what he was doing. As he continued lashing me to the bar, he began to hum a tune.

You… fucker!

I couldn’t help the feeling of giddy excitement that came over me even as the pinpricking sensation of the nylon fibers bit into my skin. He was not being gentle, and as I felt every delicious bite as he cinched tight each wrap of the rope. With every jerk, I could no more withhold the whimpers of pleasure that escaped me than I could have stopped my own breathing. A minute later, he was done. Now spread and fully exposed to him as I bent over the end of the bed, I felt a level of arousal that I hadn’t in forever. He stepped away, and I could hear the sound of him fiddling once again inside his toolbox, the chipper sound of the tune a counterpoint to the occasional groan I made. Eventually he went quiet, and the noise from the toolbox stopped.

A moment later his hand came up, knotting into my hair. He yanked my head back, moving his other hand under me. I felt it brush across my breast, and then as he pressed something hard against my nipple.

“Do. Not. Move.” His voice was harsh, strict. I could feel his fingers moving, and then fire burst outwards from the hardened peak of my breast. It hadn’t been clear at first what it was that he’d been holding in his hand, but now I knew. It was a clamp. He’d fashioned a nipple clamp. While I had thought he’d been busy during the day taking care of finishing the setting of the booth, he’d somehow found time to take the alligator clips off something and had create a set of nipple clamps.

Looking down between my breasts I could see he’d wrapped the teeth of the clamp with tape. The spring was still strong, though. Stronger than the nipple specific ones I had experienced before. It bit into my sensitive flesh, and I keened with bliss-filled pain.

“Ehhhhnnnn!”

He chuckled. “Like that, do you?”

I answered him softly, panting. “Yes, sir!”

“Well, then you are going to love this….” And then he applied the second clamp.

He had not been lying when he said he had all sorts of tricks up his sleeve. And I loved it. I loved it all.

He bit the back of my neck hard, then released my head. I could feel him moving behind me, down once again to where I knew he’d set the toolbox. After a moment, I felt him come back up onto the bed. I felt something drag against the back of my neck, and then whatever it was he had, he pulled it over the top of my head. I couldn’t immediately tell what was going on, but then I smelled the unique scent of rubber. I felt something stretchy being drawn over my nose, and then suddenly Steve was pressing it against my lips, forcing it into my mouth.

Holy fuck. He’d made a gag. He was gagging me.

I could taste the rubber of it as he forced it between my teeth. The material was thick, stiffer than what I expected, and the surface was pebbled with small dots. As Steve was cinching it tight against the back of my head, I realized what it was. He’d removed the rubber safety cover off a power tool handle and with some cording had fashioned a gag.

“Mmnnnffggh!” I grunted against the rubber that was now drawn tight through my mouth, spreading my lips apart and forcing my teeth to bite down. Steve gave one last hard tug against the tie, and then he was leaning against me, lips close to my ear.

“Last night, when I whipped you, you cried out so beautifully, but you had to bury your head in the pillow. So we wouldn’t scare the other guests. Pity, wasn’t it? I would so love to hear you scream, Jen. But we both know we can’t have that. Not here. However, at least with this…”—he gave a sharp tug on the gag, and wrenched my head back—“I’ll be able to hear your cries a little better, even if you do still have to use a pillow.”

I heard him chuckle darkly.

“And I do intend on making you scream, Jen.”

Yeah. I was undone. Game over. Steve won. I was his. Completely.

The first ten smacks he gave me were flat palmed. Last night he’d been reasonably gentle. Like any good Dom, he’d tested the waters, judged just how far he could go with his new submissive. I wasn’t unaware of what he’d done, and the knowledge made me both respect him and desire him all the more. Tonight… tonight Steve ramped things up. The first couple of smacks seemed about on par with those from the previous night. But then they began to grow. Grow in intensity, and in the speed with which they fell. By number ten, my ass was aflame, and the pain washed through me like a tide.

As he spanked me, I was soon glad for the gag Steve had fashioned. The cries I would have released without it and the nearby pillow would have brought the entire Chicago PD charging into the room.

And it was only the beginning.

Ten smacks of his palm to my backside led to a brief pause, followed by another ten. After that set there was another pause, and then the gentle soothing of his hand over my ass as I lay there panting. Steven caressed me for a minute longer before he moved up to speak into my ear.

“OK, ‘bubblegum’ isn’t going to work tonight, obviously. I’m not going to bind your wrists for now. If things hit yellow or red, I want you to smack on the bed with your hand. If you go beyond three, I’ll stop. That work for you?”

I nodded vigorously.

---