Page 155 of Axe Marks the Spot

“One more, Sir. Please.” My voice is soft yet somehow strong. I know I can take one more. I know I can please him.

“Such a pain slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His fingers dip inside my pussy, and I moan into the mattress, but as soon as they’re there, they’re gone. I know what’s coming next—I don’t have to see him to know. I exhale just as the paddle strikes me for the fifth and last time, my ass jiggling from the force, and my hips thrusting into the edge of the bed.

I expel a cry loud enough that I swear the trees shake outside, but the strike of the paddle is quickly replaced by Dane’s soothing touch and his praise. I smile as I float in what I now know as subspace. In this place, I only exist for my Sir. I’m completely in submission and am no longer thinking about what I need to do or anything in the outside world, just him and the space we’ve created together.

His touch on my smarting skin shifts lower until he’s playing with my pussy again. I’m so wet, you’d think I’d come already, but I haven’t. He hums low in his chest, fingers slipping inside and curving until he hits my G-spot.

“So wet for me baby,” he growls, “so tight.” He punctuates his comment by gently squeezing my ass and adding a third finger, stretching me.

“Sir,” I moan. “Please, Sir.”

His fingers stop, and all I feel is the weight of them inside me alongside the butt plug still thrusting in my ass. “Please, what?”

“I need your dick, Sir. I need you to fuck me.”

He chuckles darkly. “I know, baby.” His fingers curl and rub against my G-spot again, this time in a faster and firmer motion. “But I’m playing.”

I groan, and he gently pinches my sore ass, making me buck forward. “Remember who’s in charge here.”

Sir thrusts his fingers deeper inside, swirling them around, pulling them out and pushing them back in so I can hear the sound of my arousal.

“This body,” he says, “is mine.”

His fingers thrust faster, and I whimper.

“I own it, and I can do whatever I want with it. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Sir.” I moan as he clicks the thrusting plug back to the higher setting. “Tell me who gets to decide how it’s used?”

“You, Sir.”

“Who gets to decide when it comes?”

“You, Sir.”

“When it hurts?”

“You, Sir.”

“When it’s fucked?”

“You, Sir.”

“Good girl. Now go to the middle of the bed, and humble yourself.”

I don’t waste any time getting into what he taught me is the “humble” pose. My head is down, forehead on the mattress, ass in the air with knees open and arms in front of me, palms down so I can use my hands and forearms to support me.

I can’t see Dane like this, but I hear the rustle of his clothes and the snap of his belt as he removes it from his slacks. I imagine him folding his shirt and his pants as he likes before standing back to admire my body, which he calls beautiful every day, often multiple times a day.

Eventually, his steps move across the wood floor, and the mattress dips from the weight of him as he gets behind me. He runs his hands up the back of my trembling thighs, opening them wider so he fits between them.

“My beautiful wife.” He trails his finger through the wetness on my thigh. “My sexy fucktoy.”

I groan, more arousal flooding me as he dips two fingers inside me again, and I clench around them. He laughs softly but adds a third finger, scissoring them and stretching me.