Weekend Wake-up Call – Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy

Heaven help me, my legs still had the shakes.  I forced myself up and lay on the padded top of the table, my arms and legs going to the rests at the sides.
Tristan strapped my arms and legs.  I crouched face down, legs wide apart.  I was helpless and eager all over again.
I peeked over my shoulder at Tristan.  He was fully clothed once more in perfectly cut black trousers and dark gray button-down shirt.  Man, he looked amazing, so scrumptious and so dangerous all at once.  His heated gaze looked me over.  I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.
He turned around and went to the closet with its assortment of belts.  Terror sent delicious tendrils through my lower body.  I whimpered with the heady twist of lust and fear as he selected a wide leather strap.  After evaluating the grip, he rolled his sleeves up slowly, his eyes staring into mine.
“I do this not because you’ve done anything to deserve it.  I do it because it pleases me to.  You are mine to do as I wish, sub, and you will prove it by accepting the punishment.”
“Yes, Sir.”  My voice barely registered, but Tristan heard me.  He headed my way.
I breathed deeply, forcing myself to relax.  Spankings hurt more when you’re tense, and I didn’t want to be whining my safeword five swats into the discipline.
Tristan caressed my buttocks first with his hand, then with the strap.  “This is going to look so pretty turned rosy pink,” he growled. 
A slight noise let me know Dan had drawn near.  My eyes were all for Tristan and that thick strap, however.
Tristan’s gaze flicked up, and he said, “Help me keep watch on her, Dan.  As a matter of pride, some subs don’t safeword out when they should.  If she looks like she’s in trouble, tell me.”
“Got it.”  Dan’s rough hand brushed hair back from my face.
I was more responsible than that, but I wouldn’t naysay Tristan, especially not when he wielded a belt.
The first strike landed almost gently, the sting slight along the middle of my rear.   Mild warmth lit across my bottom, making my insides melt.  The next swat was the same strength, but at the precisely same spot, bringing stronger sparkles of pain.  A third made me hiss with intensity.
Tristan paused the punishment to stroke my clitoris, playing with the tender bud until I mewled with oncoming climax.  When I started making noise, he stopped playing with me and began spanking again.
The next three blows found the untouched lowest part of my cheeks, again starting lightly before increasing the sensation to a low throb.  He then went back to my clit, swirling his fingers around it and flicking the tip until I stiffened, warning him I was about to go over.  Then Tristan returned to the strap, finding the uppermost part of my buttocks with that amazing accuracy of his, tripling the spanks once more.  
Heat pulsed throughout my hindquarters, confusing pain with pleasure.  I got lost in the swirl of sensations, my world narrowing to a point.  
“Where are we, pet?”  Tristan’s voice sounded far away.  His wicked fingers played with my clit again, making everything inside tight.
“Here.”  I barely remembered protocol to add, “Sir.”
“Is she getting off on this?”  Dan’s question may as well have been asked in Russian for all the sense it made to me.
“She’s losing the ability to separate pleasure from pain.  It’s becoming one amazing sensation.”
The next strike from the belt was stronger than the ones before, the intensity of it sweeter.  I jerked in reaction, but I had nowhere to go.  The straps held me still for another lick.  And another.
They came faster and harder, but I experienced no pain.  Only intense sensation, building heat, and the divine sense of helplessness stayed, taking me higher and higher.  A small spasm rolled through my nether parts, a lovely little precursor to greater pleasures.  I floated on the waves of bliss, each convulsion that seized my womb stronger than the last.  
When the delightful spanking abruptly halted, I groaned.  “Please, Sir, just a little more.”
Tristan’s voice sounded strained.  “You’re going from pink to red, lover.  I know you’re feeling good right now, but it needs to stop.  I’m not a sadist.”
            Tears flowed down my cheeks, and my innards ached with need.  I’d been in such a wonderful place, and I didn’t want to emerge, not yet.  “Please.”
“Hush, Brandilynn.  I’ll give you something better.”
He moved between my legs, and his hard prod parted my drenched folds.  I shuddered as he pressed inside me, filling me, igniting me, slinging me over the top as if I hadn’t been with Dan only minutes before.  Tristan pounded hard, trading one form of heady punishment for another.  His hips slapped against me in a relentless tattoo.  Strapped down, all I could do was take it, orgasm after orgasm piling on top of each other, sweeping away all sense of myself.  I had no responsibilities and no need to assert any facet of Brandilynn Payson.  I simply belonged to Tristan. I existed only to satisfy him in whatever way he deemed fit.  He shouldered all accountability, leaving me free.  I dissolved into the glorious annihilation, letting go of all I was.  
The instant of my utter surrender, a massive contraction seized my belly, so great I couldn’t even scream.  The climax rode me hard. If the straps hadn’t kept me tied to the table, I might have blown apart.  Everything heaved like the ocean in a storm, tossing me to and fro until the tempest blew itself out.
Re-edited and expanded version coming in August.
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