Chapter 12

“I love playing with your body and seeing how you respond to me,” my father said. “We have a lot more things to try. But for now, I have another plan.” He unhooked my cuffs from the bench legs and helped me stand up, then led me to where the box with the BDSM toys and the Home Depot bags still rested on the floor.

“I purchased a couple of things to help you remember your place,” he said when we stood facing each other.

“I know my place, Daddy. My place is wherever, however, whenever you want me.”

“Yes, sweetheart, but I want you to always be aware of your submission.” He momentarily paused, which created a little dramatic effect. “You’re owned and my possession, my property, now.” He reached into the box and pulled out a leather collar. “Turn around.”

I did, and he fastened the black collar around my neck. It had a large metal loop in the front, and I wondered what the significance of the loop was but decided against asking him. “You’ll wear this in the house, and outside when I deem it’s appropriate.”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded.

He reached into one of the bags and brought out another spool of chain, this time the kind of black decorative stuff that people use to hang flower baskets and swag lamps.

“I would have gotten a lighter, more attractive chain, but they only sell that kind by the foot and chain by the foot can’t be delivered,” he told me. “Hold this end of it tight against your belly.”

I held the end of the chain while he wrapped it around my body, low on my hips. Then he picked up another of the openable links, pulled the chain snug, and connected the end I’d been holding to the part coming around me. He let the chain hang down, then took the bolt cutters and cut it off so the loose end was about four inches below my crotch.

“Walk around the room,” he ordered, and as I did the chain swung back and forth, brushing across my pussy each time my hips moved and my weight shifted from walking in the high heels. It was a constant turn-on, and, when I stopped moving, the chain swung between my legs and the end slapped against my asshole.

“It’s ... it’s ... I can’t even describe it,” I whispered. Wearing that chain was going to keep me in a constant state of arousal; I knew I would be completely ready for anything he wanted from me, which no doubt was the idea.

“This is another part of you knowing your place,” he said. “You’re going to be my complete slut, ready for anything at any time.”

“I thought I was ready before,” I replied, “but this combination, the collar and the chain, is psychological as well as physical; it’s taking me to a whole other level of arousal, both mentally and physically.”

“That’s what I was hoping for, Kenna. I’m going to push you as far as you can go.”

“I want you to, Daddy. I love you, now more than ever, and I want to be totally yours.”

He removed my wrist and ankle cuffs and then took my hand and led me away.

My father led me into what I’d started to think of as our playroom and had me stand under the bondage frame. We’d had a light supper and then he’d taken me into his arms and kissed me, lightly at first and then with increasing intensity, running his hands over my body and through my hair. By the time he broke the kiss, I had become seriously aroused and had to catch my breath. Then he’d sent me to our bedroom to undress and put on my highest heels, so I’d known we were going to be doing a real SM scene.

When I returned to the playroom, I saw that my father had laid out an array of implements on the dresser. “Do you remember your safewords, Kenna?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir, I do. I don’t expect to need them, but I know what they are, yellow to slow down and red to stop.”

“I hope you won’t feel the need to say one of them, but, if you do, don’t hesitate.”

“I won’t, Sir.”

“Good.” He stood me under the bondage frame, and, after he fastened the suspension cuffs around my wrists and put on my leather ankle cuffs, he brought over a foam-wrapped rod that was about two feet long. It had a ring at each end, and he’d attached double-ended toggle bolts to each ring.

“This is called a spreader bar,” he said, “so spread your feet apart.” I did, and he proceeded to attach the snap bolts to the D-rings on my ankle cuffs. I was now in a restrained spread-eagle position with my legs wide apart and my entire body accessible to him. Just thinking about what might happen next had my pussy hot and wet.

Next, he picked up one of the floggers he’d purchased. He pushed my long blonde locks over my shoulders so they draped my breasts and left my back completely bare, then started to whip me. The strikes were light at first, several on my upper back, across my shoulder blades, and then several on my butt. I could feel my skin becoming warm from the repeated hits, but the smooth steady swats were also very relaxing and sensual; my body’s involuntary reaction was a slow swaying of my hips from side to side as he gradually increased the intensity of the flogging.

Every couple of minutes, he would stop flogging me long enough to slide the fall of the flogger across my skin in a very sensual way, and each time he did that I hummed and moaned in delight. Then he would resume and repeat his alternating pattern. After maybe ten minutes of this warm-up, he stopped the flogging. I was feeling all warm and loving, and then he surprised me. He swung the flogger up between my legs; the tails of the fall slapped lightly against my pussy, and I moaned when they hit my engorged clit.

“Oh, God, that feels nice,” I whispered.

“Good,” he replied. “Now we’ll go to the next level.” He walked back to the dresser, set down the flogger, and picked up a pair of clamps. Each clamp had a set-screw to control how much they closed, and at first I thought there was a solid rod attached to each one. But then he removed what had looked like a rod and I saw it was actually a series of disks, held to each other and to the clamps magnetically.

My nipples were already semi-erect, but he teased them into total rigidity with his fingers. After that, he slowly placed each clamp and allowed it to tighten until I drew a deep breath and winced from the pain. Then he set the screws so they wouldn’t tighten further and stepped back to admire the view.

“You look beautiful, Kenna,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so, Daddy. I want to please you, always and in all ways.”

“You do, sweetheart, and you will, I’m sure of that.”

I bowed my head, proud of his compliments. Then I watched through lowered lids as he walked back to the dresser to retrieve a riding crop.