Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven 2 - Western Night

“One more outburst like the previous one, Shelby, and your decision will have been made for you.”

“I understand.”

He secured her to the bench again.

“Stick out your ass. Do not grind that hot cunt against the horse without permission.”

She maneuvered her body as best as she could while tied in place.

“Relax into it,” he coached her.

She laughed, and the sound was slightly brittle.

“Fighting it will make the pain worse and lessen your enjoyment. Surrender.”

As if.

“Count after each stroke. Dip your ass and get your ass immediately back into position.”

He removed the brown belt from her back. She watched as he doubled it over and secured it in his grip.

Her mouth dried.

He stepped behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she clenched her butt cheeks.

“It’ll hurt more that way,” he cautioned her.

She exhaled and forced herself to relax her buttocks. “I’m ready, Sir.”

She didn’t hear anything.

Instead, she felt the blunt sting of leather against her left ass cheek.

She screamed and dug her fingers into the horse.

She’d been more prepared for this blow, and it didn’t startle her as much as the first had. It still hurt, still burned. In fact it freaking scorched her ass. But she was better able to contain her reaction.

Except for the ragged sound of her breathing, the room was silent. She heard muted noise from outside the door, a muffled yelp, and maybe stilettos against a wood floor.

She suddenly realized he was waiting. “One,” she said. “Thank you.”

Shelby remembered to stick her ass out. Then she forced herself to unclench her muscles so the next hit wouldn’t hurt so bad—at least theoretically.

“Good girl,” he said.

The leather bit into her skin again, on her other butt cheek.

This time, she gasped rather than crying out. “Two. Thank you, Sir.” Her ass well and truly burned. He’d landed a stripe across both cheeks; then he’d landed two more perfectly across the first, one on each side. If the chaps provided any protection from his aggression, you couldn’t prove it by the way her skin felt.

He dug his fingers into her hair and pulled slightly. She wiggled around. The way he was so intimately holding her turned her on.

He stayed there for a few moments, and her pussy became increasingly wet. She had an urge to kiss him, to thank him. She wanted to be in his arms.

He released his grip on her hair.

“Relax,” he told her.

The belt snapped against her rear, catching the outside of her right hip.

“Thank you.” She knew, from her reading, how skilled a disciplinarian he was. His blows were deliberately timed, deliberately placed. There was no rush. He knew what he was doing, and he was delivering the punishment perfectly. She just wished she were able to enjoy it more. “Three.”

By the time he landed the fourth stroke, she had found a rhythm. He’d smack her. She’d respond by clenching, then unclenching her fists, splaying her fingers as she relaxed. Then she’d thank him as she moved back into position.

“Nicely done,” he told her.

He seemed to always give her about thirty seconds to pull herself back together. She liked the pace. Not too fast, but he didn’t keep her waiting so long that nerves had a chance to gather in the pit of her stomach.

She closed her eyes and waited for the fifth.

This time, he allowed a little more time to pass. She wondered if he was looking at her pussy or seeing the red welts across her skin. Either way, the idea oddly excited her.

He landed the fifth harder than the others. She cried out. She clenched her fists several times and dragged in a few ragged breaths. “Five. Thank you.” Because she didn’t want him to start over again, or, worse, send her away, she left out her instinctive fuck you.

He skimmed his fingers down her back, and the motion soothed her. He was good; she had to give him that. He pushed her to the edge, and once he had her there, he offered reassurance.

After a few seconds, he left her, and she forced herself to keep her body relaxed.

“This one will be the worst,” he warned her. “But you can take it.”

Yeah. But with grace?

He moved off to the side. “Remind me why we’re doing this.”

“Because of my bad manners,” she said.

“No,” he said. “It would have been double if we’d been teaching you manners.”

She ground her back teeth together. Was she really that bad? “Because I hid my ass from you?”

“Scoot back a little more.”

Fear made the sweat on her back turn cold. But his punishments were having their desired effect. She was responding to his commands instantly.

He squatted behind her and spread her ass cheeks.

She felt color spread across her face.

He pressed a finger against that tight whorl. She started to pull away but stopped herself, even though she did squeeze her eyes tightly shut.

“Beautiful.”

He didn’t try to penetrate her. He just kept his fingertip against the opening.

“You’re being very brave, Shelby.”

She continued to breathe in and out as he’d told her. She focused on nothing else, and she realized it was helping her keep panic at bay.

He moved his finger away, and she sighed in relief.

She heard rather than saw his motion and realized he’d stood.

She only had a few more strokes to go. And now she was torn. She’d never been so exquisitely examined and treated before. She wanted it to end, and she wanted it to never end.

“Take this one for me, Shelby.”

“Yes.”

With one hand on the small of her back, he forced her to stick out her rear even more.

She opened her eyes and saw him standing a little off to one side, rather than directly behind her.

Before her mind could complete the circuit of what he intended to do, he’d raised the belt.

None of the other punishing blows had prepared for the intensity of his sixth stroke. He caught her on the inside of her thigh. It burned in a way that made her howl.

She didn’t breathe; she sucked in air for survival. It took her a few seconds to regain control. “Six,” she managed. She gnawed on her lower lip. Using her manners was all but impossible. Still, she forced out a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re lovely, sub.”

His approval was all she needed. She drew strength from his tone. She concentrated on pleasing him. She wriggled around on the horse, taking care not to let her swollen clit rub against the vinyl. Despite the pain, or maybe because of it, she wanted to get off.

She dipped her back and pushed out her hips, presenting her body the way he demanded.

He finished out her punishment quickly, placing the seventh and eighth blows immediately on top of one another without giving her time to catch her breath.

“Seven. Eight!” She shuddered. “Thank you.”

“How close are you to an orgasm?”

She tried to shake her head, but the way she was positioned made it all but impossible. “I’m not thinking about coming,” she said.

He bent behind her and licked her pussy, drawing her tortured clit into his mouth.

She tried to hold on to the horse. “Please? Please, please, please?” She rocked her hips, forgetting everything and reaching for the needed release.

He inserted two fingers into her cunt and slid them back and forth.

“You may come,” he told her.

“I…” She was shameless. She all but humped his hand as he licked her, sucked her. Her buttocks burned from her beating. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire. “I’m going to come, Sir!”

He sucked her clit a little harder, then bit gently.

The tiny shock of pain was all it took. She screamed out her orgasm, her body convulsing around his fingers.