Chapter 30

Nathan sat in his study one evening after dinner reviewing Kiya’s checklists. He was particularly looking at the categories she had marked as ‘curious.’ They experimented with Kinbaku, and she has fallen in love with the Japanese bondage art form. She seems to have an inbred love for bondage. She liked the St. Andrew’s cross, along with being bound and taken in every hole.

The last one he wanted to explore was her curiosity about watersports. There wasn’t much variation to that topic: peeing on someone, being peed on, drinking. Maybe tweaking her exhibitionist side, she might like him watching her pee, or holding his cock as he peed. He needed to come up with a variation that integrated her likes. He chuckled as he thought: She’s so uninhibited and free spirited when it comes to sex. Her playful, sometimes humorous antics are refreshing. Not to mention she cums so easily and freely. That’s it. I just thought of the most devious little game that will have her pretty pussy squirming all over that toilet seat—and she’ll love it!!

Spanked

The oak door of the dungeon clicked shut, sealing out the rest of the world and leaving only the low rhythmic hum of the ventilation system. Nathan moved with deliberate grace, his eyes never leaving Kiya where she waited, breath held tight in her chest. She was positioned exactly as he had commanded, draped facedown over the padded spanking bench. The leather was cool against her stomach, but her skin was already flushed with anticipation. Her wrists were secured in the cuffs attached to the legs of the bench, pulling her arms forward and leaving her backside completely vulnerable, raised high in offering.

“Are you ready, Kiya?” Nathan’s voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the floorboards and straight into her core.

Kiya swallowed hard, pressing her cheek against the cool leather. “Yes, Master. I’m ready.”

He didn’t respond with words. Instead he moved behind her, out of her line of sight. The silence stretched, taut and electric. She could hear the rustle of his clothing as he moved, then the sudden sharp sound of skin meeting skin. Then, crack.

The first blow from his hand landed squarely on her left cheek, the impact jolting her forward against the restraints. It wasn’t just pain. It was a shockwave of heat that radiated outward instantly. Before she could fully gasp, a second blow landed on the right side, perfectly matching the first.

“One,” Nathan counted calmly.

The next three came in rapid succession, a rhythmic drumbeat against her flesh. He put his shoulder into it, his large hand covering a significant portion of her skin with each strike. The sting was sharp, building into a deep throbbing burn that made her toes curl and her arches press against the cold tile floor. By the fifth strike Kiya was moaning, the sound torn from her throat as the heat blossomed across her backside. She felt the blood rushing to the surface, her skin becoming incredibly sensitive to the air of the room.

Nathan stepped back, admiring his work. Her skin was a perfect shade of pink, glowing in the dim light. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. The shutter sound echoed strangely in the room as he snapped a quick photo.

“Beautiful color,” he murmured, circling her slowly. “But we’re just getting started.”

He walked to the table where his instruments were laid out. His fingers danced over the wood, leather, and metal before selecting a smooth heavy wooden paddle. He picked it up, tapping it lightly against his own palm to test the weight. It was dense, unyielding.

“Count them,” he ordered, returning to his position behind her.

“Yes, Master,” she breathed out, her voice trembling slightly.

The paddle was a different beast entirely. Where his hand had had some give, this rigid piece of wood transferred every ounce of force directly into her muscles. The first stroke landed with a heavy thwack, forcing a sharp cry from Kiya’s lips. The pain was dense and consuming, spreading deep into her glutes.

“One,” she gasped.

He waited, letting her process the sensation, letting the burn peak before delivering the second. This one landed slightly lower, catching the crease where her thigh met her cheek. Kiya bucked against the bench, the restraints pulling taut.

“Two,” she managed, her voice higher pitched.

The third and fourth strokes fell with brutal precision. Nathan was an artist, painting a masterpiece of discipline and sensation. Kiya’s breath was coming in ragged pants now. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead. The heat was intense, a pulsing throb that seemed to take over her entire nervous system. When the fifth stroke landed she nearly screamed, but she choked it down, her whole body shaking.

“Five,” she whispered, slumping slightly against the leather.

Again the camera shutter clicked. Nathan stepped in close, running a hand gently over the heated reddened skin. She shuddered at the touch, the contrast between the rough force and the gentle caress dizzying.

“You’re doing so well,” he said softly, his tone praising but still commanding. “Look at this. You’re marking up beautifully.”

He moved back to the table and selected the flogger. It had dozens of soft suede falls, each one capable of delivering a biting sting. As he walked back he swung it loosely in his hand, the tails whispering through the air with a menacing hiss.

“This will help you find your rhythm,” he said.

The flogger didn’t hit with a single impact like the others. It was a cacophony of sensation. The first strike wrapped around her side, the tails landing in a chaotic pattern. It was a prickle of fire that bit into her skin from a dozen angles at once. Kiya gasped, her back arching instinctively.

“One,” she cried out.

The second stroke landed across the center of her cheeks. The suede falls were soft, but in numbers they were a storm. It was a different kind of pain—stinging and sharp, less deep than the paddle but covering more surface area. Kiya felt her body responding in a way that was both confusing and undeniable. The pain was translating into a rush of endorphins, a heady fog that clouded her mind.

“Two,” she moaned, the word sounding broken and needy.

Nathan swung the flogger with a rhythmic flick of his wrist. The third stroke landed high, the fourth low, and the fifth right in the middle, the tips of the tails snapping against the tenderest part of her skin. By the final count Kiya was trembling violently, the line between pleasure and pain dissolving entirely. She felt raw, exposed, and entirely owned by the man standing behind her.

“Five,” she finished, her voice barely a whisper.

Again he took a photo. The click of the camera seemed to seal the moment, capturing her vulnerability forever. But Nathan didn’t put the phone away this time. Instead he set it on a nearby shelf and moved closer, his presence dominating her senses.

“You’ve taken your discipline well,” he said, his hand sliding down her spine. “But we both know what you really need.”

Kiya’s breath hitched. She did know. Despite the fiery pain in her backside a deep aching need had settled between her legs. The spanking had awakened something primal in her, a hunger for more, for something harder, for something deeper.

“Please,” she whimpered, not even sure what she was asking for.

Nathan chuckled darkly. “I have three strokes left, Kiya. And I think they belong somewhere else.”

He moved his hand, tracing the curve of her body until his fingers brushed against the wet heat between her thighs. She was soaked, her arousal obvious and undeniable.

“Look at you,” he taunted softly. “So wet for me.”

He stepped back and picked up the paddle again, but this time he adjusted his stance. He aimed lower. The air in the room seemed to thicken as he drew his arm back.

“These are for your pleasure,” he growled.

The first stroke landed squarely across her wet exposed pussy. The pain was blinding, sharp and immediate, contrasting violently with the slick heat. Kiya screamed, her body jerking violently against the cuffs, but she didn’t pull away. She arched her back, pushing herself up to meet the blow.