She was silent while I drove. I took a few curvy backroads so I could play with my car a little, and having only the music as a backdrop was okay.
When I pulled into the driveway, I told her, “Go to the upstairs playroom. Put your ankle and wrist cuffs on. Strip. I’m going to want you in the mesh swing, so make sure it’s at the right height for me to fuck you in it. Kneel below it and wait for me, if you’re ready before I arrive.”
While she was getting herself ready, I went to the kitchen. We have coconut oil in the playroom, but I didn’t want to deal with it in solid form. Plus, I wanted to add some things. I put several heaping tablespoons into a low, wide dish. I added ateaspoon of olive oil, and seven drops of pure cinnamon oil. It would create heat, at first. Eventually, it would build to a burn. The olive oil was just to give it a little more body. A tiny bit thicker, but not so much it was sticky.
Twenty seconds in the microwave was enough to melt it, and I lifted it and headed to the playroom. The bowl went onto a metal cart. I added heavy duty industrial clamps, and considered what else I might need. Nothing came to mind. Just my fist and her cunt. Simple. Elegant. I might not even use the clamps.
Oh, who was I kidding? She was getting a clamp on her clit at some point. Probably her nipples as well.
I pushed the rolling chair and cart to the swing and reached down to lift my kneeling sex toy into it. She was used to me handling her like an oversized doll, so she stayed in her kneeling pose until her weight was in the swing. I settled her face up, and she obediently moved her hands and feet to the spots she knew I’d want to restrain them.
“Such a good girl,” I told her. She’d guessed exactly right. I fastened her legs high up and behind her head, and her wrists to attachment points in the floor, behind me. We kept the chains in them, so they only had to be lifted up to restrain the victim in the swing. This pulled her ass high and pressed her shoulders down. It also kept the swing from moving too much. I’d have to release her wrists and attach them to the swing before I actually fucked her, lest I damage her shoulders.
“Do you smell the cinnamon?”
“I do, Sir.”
I breathed in. “I smell your fear. Say the word and we’ll go see a movie.”
She shook her head. “No, Sir.Please. I need this. You need this. Please show us both how much I belong to you.”
“What do you think I’m about to do?”
“Burn my asshole probably, Sir.”
I’d done that before with a different, stronger mixture. She’d been frantic with pain before I’d fucked her asshole. Yes, it’d burned my dick, but I’d wanted to share in her pain, so it hurt us both. Of course, she’d dealt with the hot oil for over an hour, and I dealt with it for ten minutes — and cleaned my dick off when it got to be too much. She didn’t have that option. I’d added more after I fucked her. She’d worn a plug with the pepper and cinnamon lube for two days, with it only coming out for us to use her or give her an enema. It’d been part of some behavior modification. She’d tested us, to see what happened if she backtalked. She found out — and we learned she was a lot more polite with a burning butt plug installed.
So, burning her ass was a good guess. Wrong, though.
“You haven’t backtalked us, my beautiful swanling. It’s just cinnamon, no pepper.” I stuck a lubed finger in her pussy. Then another. And another. And another.
We made it through this progression in less than three minutes.
I scented her pain at four fingers. Good pain. Horny pain.
She startedtellingme it hurt once the thumb was just about buried, when it was clear the knuckles couldn’t breach the tight ring. This was about the bones not letting me in. And sure, the flesh was too tight as well, but I could power through that.
The bones, however, took time to spread wider. I gave her an hour of pressure. My hand sank in millimeter by millimeter, without relief. She cried. She told me how much it hurt. But she never asked me to stop. We’d been through this before. If she asked me to stop, I’d clean her up and take her out to eat. Or to a movie.
Abbott had taught me how to keep Kieran and Gwen out of my head. It was tricky, because they both held my wolf’s leash, so they were embedded in that part of my brain. And yet, if I didn’t want them to see out of my eyes, I could stop them. If I didn’twant them to see my thoughts, I could usually keep them out. Not always, but I was getting better at it.
At first, I’d thought maybe we should keep this between us daywalkers, but since they’re both completely in Arabella’s head, that wasn’t possible. So I opened everything up to let them see. Kieran awakened first, and I felt him masturbating from downstairs. When Gwen awakened, they both watched, and I realized Kieran was making Gwen blow him.
They were back to about ten minutes between rising, and I think we all breathed easier with the extra space.
I stopped focusing on them and concentrated on the pussy before me. “Big push. It’s going in this time.”
She gave the tiniest of nods, but held her breath.
“No, my little swanling. Breathe. Relax. Don’t fight it. We both want this, right?”
“Yes, Sir.Please!” A few tears had spilled over here and there throughout her little ordeal, but she wasn’t openly crying.
I talked her through seven deep breaths, and her body relaxed around me. Not enough for my hand to slide the rest of the way in with the pressure I was exerting, but she was about to get a whole lot more.
I pressed harder. And harder. More millimeters. I took my hand out, dipped it in the oil again, and slid it back into her pussy. Fifteen seconds, and I was back where I’d been. The fresh oil burned worse, and her tissues were raw and irritated. Her good pain was transitioning to the bad kind.
My wrist torqued a little when I leaned to unfasten her wrist straps. I dropped an industrial clamp onto her flat belly. “Put that on your clit, sweetheart.”
