His Broken Submissive : Mercy

13 Punish Me

"Tell me something good about yourself Izabella, now," Jonathan orders, locking his gaze on me. My heart hammers as I rack my brain but come up empty.

"I um," I start, trying to buy myself time. Jonathan ticks his jaw and raises a brow at me, clearly seeing through my stalling tactic.

"One thing Bella," he says, disapproval lacing his tone. "I can think of a dozen easily and you can't even give me one." He shakes his head and closes the gap as he considers his next move.

"What are we going to do bout this, hm?" He asks, clearly wanting an answer.

"P-punish me, Sir?" I reply uncertainly. He had made it clear he wouldn't tolerate me talking down about myself but I only thought it this time.

"Hmm," he thoughtfully growls. Eager to please him I turn and drape myself across his desk, presenting myself for him.

His large, heavy hand lands in the middle of my back, holding me steady as my breaths come in short, rapid puffs while I wait for what's next. His other hand slips onto my hip, his fingers digging in ever so slightly make my core clench in anticipation.

"Not this time," Jonathan replies gruffly, "I think you'd do better with a time out." Slipping his hand from the center of my back to my shoulder he pulls me into an upright position then turns me to the door, swatting my behind hard enough to make me yelp.

"Present at the end of my bed," he orders. I swallow hard, trying to force my somersaulting heart back down my throat but take off instantly, not wanting to add to my sentence.

I waste no time, practically running up the stairs and racing to his room. My heart beats out of control as my mind races trying to figure out what he has in store for me.

Unsure of how long I have I quickly strip and fold my clothes neatly on the chair by the door and get into position. I kneel, thighs spread apart, ass resting on my feet, back straight, shoulders lifted with my hands resting palm up on my thighs, just like he taught me. My gaze is on the floor as I listen for any sign that he's coming.

Minutes tick away and Jonathan is still downstairs so I focus on calming my racing heart and evening out my breathing. My body is hyper-aware, waiting for its master to show up, the anticipation evident on my inner thighs.

*Creek*

The sound from the first step sets my heart racing once more as I hear him ascend the stairs. I shimmy, adjusting my posture to make my best presentation for him.

With slow, measured steps he makes his way from the stairs, down the hallway and finally enters the room. He walks in front of me and keeps walking to the far side of his bedroom, not acknowledging me. After discarding his jacket and slipping off his shoes I see his tie hit the floor.

When he walks behind me and out of sight a slight whimper slips past my lips. I can't move from this position until instructed, this feels like torture in its own right.

"Do you remember your safe word Bella?" He asks from behind me, the timber of his voice deepening by the moment.

I swallow hard but nod. "Yes Sir," I reply breathily. "Mercy."

"Good girl," he praises, briefly running his fingers up my spine, sending shivers down it. "I want you to use it the moment this becomes too much, understood?"

"Yes Sir," I reply, practically panting.

I hear the trunk buckle unlock and the lid creak open. My heart does summersaults in my throat but a mix of anticipation and excitement explodes in me. Every fibre of my being screams at me to turn around and see what he's doing but I force myself to stay in position, instead focusing on the clunks and rustling noises as he sifts through the trunk.

The sudden slamming of the lid makes me jump and a shiver runs through my body. He slides the trunk off to the side and rattles with whatever he took out. The agonizing wait feels like an eternity before he finishes and walks back in front of me.

Gently he lifts my chin in a way to tell me to rise. My body instantly obeys, following his lead and meeting his gaze. His brown eyes search mine, looking for something before he nods satisfied.

He turns me to the bed and my eyes land on the straps and cuffs on the floor. My heart races but I let him guide me to the bed.

"Strap your ankles in," he orders, stepping back.

My heart hammers in my chest as I focus on trying to keep my breathing even. Almost in a trance, I bend over to the left side, picking up the hefty leather cuff with soft lambskin padding in my trembling fingers.

"Do you need to stop?" He questions, the concern clear.

Did I?

I'm uncomfortable but not terrified or panicked. More so there's a growing sense of anticipation, encouraging me on.

"No Sir, I'm okay," I reply, fastening the cuff firmly around my ankle. He grunts in approval and I stretch out and fasten the other cuff, standing up with my thigh spread wide.

"Good girl," he praises, slowly pushing my top half over the bed so my weight ends up on my palms. The position leaves me vulnerable and strangely turned on, I can feel the wetness spreading on the insides of my open thighs.

"Have you used this before?" He asks, sliding a metal object over.

My eyes are glued to the large stainless steel hook with a safety ball at one end and rope attached to the other. "No Sir, but I know what it is," I whisper.

"Do you want a warm-up first?" He asks and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yes please, Sir," I hastily agree. I've worn butt plugs, but this, although being more slender looks far more intimidating.

His palm glances forcefully off my ass, making me yelp and jump. Almost immediately after he lightly spanks the other, making me buck against the restraints. He brings both palms to my ass then they squeeze and knead away the sting drawing a wanton moan past my lips.

I feel like putty under his expert hands as my mind goes blank and I focus only on him and this moment. The delightful sting on my ass, tightening in my core and spreading wetness down my thighs.

He repeats the process twice more, leaving me a quivering, panting, moaning mess bent over the bed. My core's so tight I think I could come with just a little more.

One of his hands leaves my searing body while the other continues to knead my tender ass. I squeak as cold liquid hits my hot ass crack, dripping between my cheeks.

"Keep breathing normally," he orders as I feel his finger spreading the lube over my ass. As hard as it is I do as I'm told, forcing my body to relax.

Slight pressure is replaced in a moment by more as he pushes his finger in gently. I take an involuntary deep breath as he slides his finger all the way in before withdrawing and repeating.

Expertly he works his finger in and out and discomfort is replaced by pleasure. I moan, fisting the sheets as the knot in my core draws tighter. Just as I approach my peak he withdraws.

"Not yet," he chides, so close to my ear I can feel his breath fanning my neck. 

I whimper in frustration but know better than to complain.