Even if I was about to be punished.
“Don’t move,” he said as he pulled away from me. “Keep that ass in the air, bad girl.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I stuck my ass up high. Hell, I deserved it. I knew the rules, and now that I knew he was starting to enforce them more strictly, it would make everything easier. My pussy was his. My pleasure was his. Any punishment I deserved was his to dole out.
He came back with the short, whippy rattan cane, and while I made a sound of dread into the bedsheets, that was the extent of my protest.
“Are you ready?” he asked, tapping the cane against my ass.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Count them for me. I don’t want to hear anything but counting, and Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The first stroke whipped across my ass cheeks. I tensed and drew my legs together. Ow, ow, ow. “One, Sir.”
The second one fell just above the first, and the third below it. I trembled with the effort to be still and quiet. The fourth one brought a wail.
“Owwww. Four, Sir.”
“Get that ass up. This is what happens to girls who try to touch themselves without permission, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir. Ahh! Five, Sir.”
“We’ve taken a little time away from real life—”
“Six, Sir!”
“But now it’s time to get back to some rules and discipline.”
“Oww. Yes, Sir. Seven, Sir.”
My ass was on fire with seven throbbing cane tracks, and the next was on the way. “Eight, Sir,” I choked out when it fell.
“Nine, Sir” was so painful that I lost my composure and collapsed on the bed. He gave me one warning tap, and I hustled to my knees and stuck my ass out, because anything that counted as resistance earned five extra strokes. I gripped the sheets and cried out at the last stroke, which was always the hardest.
“Ten, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
I turned around to stare up at my disciplinarian, my owner, my Master. My cheeks burned hot beneath my tears.
“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
Oh yes, Sir. I want this. I want you and your authority and your rough love forever.
Later, after dinner, he assembled the chastity belt, then traced the ten cane welts as he held me over his lap. “I think we’ll be ready to go back home soon,” he said. “What do you think? Do you feel ready to try again?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m definitely ready.”
“You won’t miss the Gramercy? All this luxury?”
I gave a little feline stretch of pleasure as he ran a hand up my back. “As long as you’re there, I’ll be happy.”
He laughed. “I don’t know why I make you happy. I’m so cruel to you.” He slapped my poor, wet clit and slid the first of the chastity dildos into my pussy. It was thick and textured, to tease me all night, and my body couldn’t help squeezing on the ribbed surface. It felt good. Horribly good, because I wasn’t allowed to come. He forced me to be still as he inserted the anal dildo next. As much as I was used to this treatment, I moaned at the invasive ache. It was also thick, and since it attached to the belt, there was no narrower neck for my sphincter to contract around. It kept me open and worked up all night.
Shit, he’d also used the itching lube. Back to the old life. Back to the old rules. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
But that was okay. As he fitted the curved metal plate over my aching clit and locked me up for the night, I felt like everything was just as it was supposed to be. He was in control, but he loved me, and he would keep me safe.
He put me on my knees to suck him off one last time before bed. He always got hard when he put me into chastity. I got hard too, but oh well. Since I wasn’t allowed to come, or even beg to come the way I wanted, I put all my energy into serving him. I got my reward later, when he held me and kissed my forehead as I drifted off to sleep.
“I’m going to dream about you,” he whispered. “My beautiful, good girl.”
* * * * *
Chere and I checked out of the Gramercy Park Hotel on Valentine’s Day. It seemed the most appropriate day to do it, since both of us were hopeless romantics. We’d done a lot of relationship work at the Gramercy, and had the peace of mind to show for it. I was glad now that she’d run away from me, since it forced us to face our issues head on.
Even so, I was nervous about our first trip back to the dungeon. I’d fixed the gouges in the wall where I’d thrown the cage, but the cage itself still lay on its side where it had fallen. I didn’t want to gloss over the things that had happened between us. I didn’t want to tidy away the evidence, at least not yet.