… solipsubmissive …

This is a continuation.  You might want to follow this link to the beginning:  Part One.

“Ah, yes.  There’s a good girl.”  He strolled back into the room to find her precisely as he’d told her he expected.  He set the cloth covered tray on the end of the bed, then walked to her side.  Smiling slightly, he stepped on the mass of dark curls that pooled on the carpet behind her head, pinning her in place.

His motions slow and deliberate, he unbuckled the leather belt at his waist.  He saw her flinch at the metallic clicks as he loosened it, heard her suck in her breath when she heard the hiss of the leather slipping free of the confining loops.  He knelt, placing one knee where his foot had been, and draped the belt across her ass.  He slid a hand beneath the belt, into her panties, ran a finger down the humid cleft, past the tight little nether hole, to the moist hole beyond.  “Wet.  Slick.  You are a slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, nearly overcome with sensation.  He’d barely touched her, yet she was awash with heat, aching with need.  The pressure of his weight on her hair alone was arousing.  She wanted to push back against his invading finger, push until it pressed inside her — the need sent a moan past her lips.

He chuckled, pulled his hand free, trailed the moisture from her cunt up her spine until he encountered the closure of her bra in the middle of her back.  With deft fingers, he unfastened it, allowed it to dangle loosely on her shoulders.  That done, he slid both hands back under her panties and pushed them back off her ass and down her thighs to stretch, taut, between her knees.

He picked up the belt again, held it loosely in one hand.  The buckle dangled near her face, the metallic scent marrying with the thick smell of the leather.  Her nostrils flared.  He stood, then, moved out of her line of sight.  She tried to keep him in her peripheral vision, and, when she couldn’t, fought to resist the urge to turn her head until she chould see him.  So great was her concentration on denying that urge, she didn’t register the sound of the belt swishing through the air until it landed, with a sharp crack, on her ass.

She jerked and fell to her side as pain, white hot and terrible blossomed outward.  She heard a scream, but didn’t know the sound had been ripped from her own throat until the second blow landed, wrapping around her hip to lick at her stomach, cutting off her ability to draw breath, prematurely ending the first scream to begin the second.  Choking on the conflicting responses, she curled into herself, reacting instinctively, trying to protect her most vital places.

The room grew quiet.  Tentatively, she emerged from the protective shell she’d created, removing her arms from around her head and uncurling a little.  Worried chagrin flooded her, momentarily displacing the pain radiating from the two angry red stripes on her ass and midsection.  She scraped the hair from her face with one shaking hand, found his eyes with her own.

He regarded her steadily, unsmiling.  Impassive.  Unmoved.

In sublime humiliation, she tried to resume her former position.  He spoke.  “Tsk.  A bit more than you expected?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her head down.

His voice gentled a bit.  “More than you can take?”

“No, Sir.”  She shook her head, her voice a bit stronger with this denial.

“Mm.  Well.  I guess we’ll just have to see.  On the bed, slut.  On your back.”

Scrambling to obey, she kicked off the panties that fell to her ankles when she rose and stretched out on the neatly made bed, her head propped on the pile of decorative pillows and shams.  She glanced at the end of the bed, felt her heart begin to pound anew, anticipation and fear warring within as she regarded the covered tray, wondering what was under the white linen cloth.  She met his eyes again, memories of depraved late night conversations filtering through her mind.

“You know me better than that, petal.  Do you honestly think the way you’re lying there appeals?”

She shook her head.  He reached out, slapped her cheek lightly, gave her a hard look. 

“i mean..n-no, Sir,” she corrected herself, cringing.  Under his watchful eye, she spread her legs, opened herself to his stare, warmed beneath his scrutiny.

His eyes roved over the offered sight, reveled in the lewd, wanton way she moved.  He flicked another glance at her face, took in the parted lips, the slow, shameless heat in her eyes  This, he thought, this she could do.  He felt his cock harden in response.  “Ah, yes.  Fuck yourself, slut.  Play with your cunt for me.”

She closed her eyes, rolled her head on the pillow as one hand crept down to her cunt, the other across her chest to pinch and roll one of her hardened nipples.  He settled onto the bed between her spread legs, placed his hands beneath her knees, spread her wider, watching as her fingers slid across the slick folds.  She paused at her clit, gave it a lazy little rub, then dipped her two middle fingers into her heated center.

He could smell her arousal, hear the wet sound of her fingers.  He watched them emerge, glistening, then followed them with his eyes as they found and pinched her clit, lightly rubbing and frigging the sensitive nubbin of flesh.  She moaned, drawing his eyes upward to the fingernail embedded in her nipple.  Her breathing quickened, became unintelligible words, exhaled as she pleasured herself, unashamed, for him.

“Tell me.”

A small groaning whimper found his ears.  “i adore every tiny corner of this,” she whispered.  “Watch me, please.”  Her fingers were growing urgent.  He suppressed the urge to slide his hands down her thighs, to bury his larger fingers roughly inside her.   She squirmed against herself moving her hips to increase her pleasure, gasping as she drew near, then pulled back, unsure if he wanted her to come or not.

“Yes,” he answered her unspoken question.  “Don’t hold back.  I want it all.”

She arched her back, reached deep, her thighs tensing beneath his hands.  He gripped them harder — they would bruise, so help him — pushed them wider, spread her so everything parted for him, so he could see every rich, deep, pink piece of her aching cunt.  And then, she caught her breath, silenced for a moment, her fingers moving feverishly before she let go, crying out her pleasure as she convulsed in waves of searing sensation.

She rode it for him, her cries becoming moans, her moans becoming tiny staccato gasps.  She pressed against his hands, tried to close her legs on her gentling hand, tried to capture it before the tremors passed.  After a moment, he allowed it, watching the sated smile creep across her face, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she relaxed her legs again, found him between them, waiting.  “Did you enjoy that, petal?”

She nodded.  “Yes, Sir.  Thank you.”

“Mm.  Good.”  He smiled and held up a hand.  There, lightly held between his thumb and forefinger, was a scalpel.  Her eyes widened as it caught the light, mesmerizing her for the spare second before she knew stark terror. 

“My turn,” he said.

part four