“You have a very tight cunny, Miss Blanchet. So very soft, and hot.” He stroked the flesh against which the object in her bottom-hole pressed, and Lina felt as though she might faint. “I will enjoy teaching you to use it prop...erly.”
Was it her imagination, or had Mr. Blackstone’s voice suddenly changed, had he stumbled over what he was saying? His fingers clawed toward her hardened nub, from inside and out, and she screamed uncontrollably into the ball as another wave of terrifying pleasure overtook her.
His finger began to slide in and out of her cunny, and then he added a second one, which stretched her open with a sharp pain that slowly subsided. She was beginning to quiver everywhere: she could feel her cunny quivering, her bottom-hole spasming around the hard object inside of it, her legs trembling and her toes curling. Moans were escaping her throat, pouring into the gag, and she was no longer in control of herself.
The excruciating pleasure continued to intensify, always increasing, somehow giving her a promise of relief, but never delivering it.
Just as she reached an excruciating new high, his fingers slowed, and she whimpered.
She felt his body close to hers, as he leaned over her restrained body, the fingers of his free hand making lazy and arousing circles on her burning bottom. “Have you ever spent before, Miss Blanchet?”
Lina sobbed into the gag and let her head hang. She did not know. She only knew that she could not endure this torture, surely there must be something that would relieve it. She desperately wanted him to continue stroking her, stroking that place, though she wondered if she would only ever reach a higher plane and never ever be relieved of this ache.
“I am going to make you spend, Lina, so that you may know what it means.”
His fingers began to stroke her anew, quickly now, and the painful, thrilling crescendo continued. Lina lost control of her body and herself, and then, violently, it was as if her entire body hit a wall, but a wall of satisfaction, all at once, and she screamed and shuddered as the most pleasurable and frightening sensation she had ever felt took over her entire body.
She was unaware of time, of how long her body shuddered until it was weak and limp. During this time she could only feel the wild depletion of the fire that had been building inside of her, and then the reduction of herself to something exactly as he had described it, with that odd word: she was spent. A blur of multi-colored stars encroached on the edges of her vision, behind her tightly closed eyelids, until the feeling ebbed away.
When she at last returned to the moment, and became aware of where she was: restrained, in that humiliating position, on a bed of leather, she became aware that perhaps much time had passed. She did not know where Mr. Blackstone was. Her breath was heavy and rough, and when she opened her eyes, she could see only the dimly-lit room in front of her.
A whimper left her throat, and when it did, she realized that it was almost a plea, a desire to know where he was... strangely, though she could scarcely believe it herself, it was a desire to feel his hands again on her body.
When at last he touched her, he placed a warm hand gently on her burning backside. The burn of his touch against her sore skin grounded her, and she responded by pushing toward him, like a plant leaning toward the sunlight. He used his thumb to make another long, circular movement with the object in her bottom, and the gentle soreness that pressed on every intimate part of her from within reignited the cravings he had so easily dispensed of just moments before.
She sobbed again, but it was not a cry of displeasure, rather of longing, because she had come to understand something of what he planned to do to her even before he said, quietly and firmly:
“You are never to spend, or make yourself spend, unless you are explicitly commanded to do so by me, Miss Blanchet.” When he leaned over her body, she felt the heat of his bare skin against her back, and the understanding that he, like her, had removed his clothing, sent another shudder through her body.
He placed a hand gently on her throat, leaving it there long enough for the strength of his hands to sink through her skin and make her aware of their power, before he slid his fingers over her jaw, and in a fluid motion, loosened the strap that held the gag in place and pulled it from her mouth.
“Tell me that you understand me, Miss Blanchet, so that we may proceed with the next phase of your training.”
Lina gulped a few deep breaths, and then, with her face toward the mattress, sweat snaking down her temples, in a voice that was nearly a moan, “I understand, sir.”
“Tell me what you understand.”
“I... I... will... not...” her mind drew a blank, she could not think of the word he had used. “I will not... do the thing... the... sss...” She let out an exasperated sob.
“You will not spend,” he urged her, though there was an unexpected gentleness in his voice. “No matter how much you so desire.”
“I will not sp...spend,” she repeated. “Sir.”
He said nothing, and she heard him move behind her, his footsteps retreating and then returning. She wondered what he had retrieved from the wall of devices, what new and glorious torture awaited her. The fear that had gripped her before was not gone from her chest, but it had subsided and converted into something less monstrous. She could not lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t want him to continue to use her body for pleasure, to feel again the same excruciating pleasure she had just felt.
The dim light of the room disappeared as though the lights had gone out, and it took a moment for her to connect this blindness to the heavy, raw silk that had descended over her eyes. Anticipation writhed in her chest as the fabric tightened around her head, and she was enclosed in a vulnerability even deeper than the one she was already subjected to.
“M...Mr. Blackstone?” she whispered, after several moments had passed. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and now she was beginning to feel cold.
The pressure on her wrists changed, and then her hands were free to fall to her back. He took each one in turn in his hands, and placed them on either side of her head again. “Remain as you are,” he told her, before loosening the straps that held her ankles.
She did as she was told, her body trembling, every inch of her skin alight with a desire to feel his hand upon her. She was surprised when she felt his fingers beneath her chin next, lifting her head gently, so that she had no choice but to rise to her hands and knees with the guidance of his fingertips.
Once she was propped like an animal on all fours, his hands traveled to her shoulders, brushing over her electrified skin. Involuntarily, she sank toward his touch, leaning into the strength of his hands, not knowing why she might do such a thing. He pushed her up to a seated position, with her legs spread apart, so that her bottom sank between her splayed and folded legs.
His hands traveled down her arms to her wrists again, and he took them in his grip and placed them behind her back, drawing each wrist to one of her ankles, opening her fingers to place them around her ankle and close her fingers there. As he did this, his bare skin touched her, on her thigh, on her hardened nipples, along her ribcage. His skin was hot, and behind the flesh she felt a steely hardness.
“You will hold your ankles like this for your next session, and be a good girl, and not let go, or you shall be punished, Miss Blanchet.”
