CHAPTER 26
Laura
The next morning I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the sound of waves crashing against the shore. For a blissful moment I felt peaceful, wrapped in soft sheets with the ocean breeze drifting through the partially open lanai door. Then I shifted my hips and the soreness hit me—a deep, aching tenderness that radiated from my bottom and reminded me exactly what had happened the night before.
My face went hot as the memories flooded back. The whipping. Bent over the chair with my legs spread and tied. The huge plug. And then… oh, god, then Mike had fucked my ass while I was bound and helpless, and I had come so hard I’d nearly blacked out.
I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in the pillow, trying to will away the mortification. But my body wouldn’t let me forget—every time I moved, I felt it. The welts on my bottom. The strange, used feeling in my anus. The constant, gnawing emptiness in my sealed pussy that had only gotten worse overnight.
And today I was supposed to wear that microkini to the beach. To show everyone what had been done to me.Like a good girl.
A good girl who had gotten punished for being naughty. It made no sense, and yet all the sense in the world… the hot, dark, red world deep inside me, anyway.
I heard movement in the other room and realized Mike must already be awake. Part of me wanted to hide under the covers forever, but I knew that would only make things worse. He expected obedience. He expected me to accept what I was—his property, his toy, his good girl who took whatever he chose to give and yielded to him whatever he chose to take.
The thought made my pussy clench behind my closed labia, and I bit my lip in frustration. Why did my body keep responding this way? Why did the humiliation and degradation make me so desperately aroused instead of repulsed?
I forced myself to sit up, wincing at the pull of tender flesh. The nightgown Mike had dressed me in last night had ridden up during sleep, and I tugged it down self-consciously even though I was alone. My hair was a mess, tangled from the shower and sleep, and I could see faint marks on my wrists where the rope had held me.
“Laura?” Mike’s voice came from the living area. “You awake, sweetheart?”
My stomach flipped at the endearment. I remembered thinking I’d heard him say something else last night, something that couldn’t possibly have been real.I love you. But that was ridiculous. This was an arrangement, a transaction. He paid me to submit to him, to let him train and use my body however he wanted. Love had nothing to do with it.
Did it?
“Yes, sir,” I called back, my voice coming out smaller than I’d intended. “I’m awake.”
“Come out here. I want to see you.”
I slid out of bed carefully, my legs shaky as I stood. Each step reminded me of the previous night—the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness of his cock claiming a place no one had ever touched before. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and stopped in my tracks.
I couldn’t see my bottom. I didn’t want to see my bottom. I didn’t.
I don’t. I don’t want to see.
I turned my back to the mirror and looked back at my reflection over my shoulders. With trembling fingers I raised the hem of my nightgown.
I couldn’t keep down a sob at what I saw.
The welts crisscrossed my bottom in an angry pattern of raised pink and red lines, some darker than others—almost purple—where the leather tails had struck with particular force. The marks stood out starkly against my pale skin. It looked exactly like what it was: evidence that I had been whipped. Thoroughly. By a man who owned me.
And today I was supposed to display this to the world in a bathing suit that covered nothing.
I dropped the nightgown and turned away from the mirror, my hands shaking. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks, and I wasn’t even sure if they were from shame or something else entirely. Because looking at those marks, seeing the physical proof of what Mike had done to me, had made my pussy throb with need so intense I had to grip the edge of the dresser to steady myself.
What was wrong with me?
“Laura,” Mike called again, his voice firmer this time. “Don’t make me come in there.”
I forced my legs to move, padding barefoot into the living area. Mike stood by the windows overlooking the ocean, already dressed in swim trunks and a linen shirt. He turned when he heard me, and his expression softened as he took in my tearstained face.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he said gently, holding out his hand.
I went to him because I had no choice, because my body moved toward him automatically now. He pulled me into his arms and I buried my face against his chest, trying not to think about how good it felt to be held by him.
“I saw,” I whispered. “In the mirror. I saw what you did.”
“I know.” His hand stroked my hair soothingly. “It’s beautiful, Laura. You’re beautiful.”
