His Broken Submissive : Mercy

14 Tell me Bella

"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.

He pulls back and a moment later I feel cold steel at my back entrance. I yelp and instinctively my hips buck, pushing me away, earning me a sharp swat. The sensation is nearly enough to send me over, but I hold back.

Jonathan pulls my hip back to him then pushes my chest down to the bed, exposing me fully and once again brings the cold steel to my ass. Reflex tells me to clench but I fight against it trying to relax.

He holds steady pressure to it but doesn't force it in, while his free hand runs up the inside of my thigh, collecting my wetness. I cry out in bliss as he starts to circle my clit.

"Dirty girl." He coos in approval, his voice husky and strained. "Look how wet you are, you like this don't you."

His dirty talk only turns me on further, sending more heat and wetness to my core. The pressure in my stomach is approaching unbearable levels as I pant out my response, "Yes Sir."

In my euphoric, relaxed state he adds just enough pressure to slip the small ball past my entrance and the hook slides smoothly into place. The feeling is alien, but not entirely unpleasant, just fullness and pressure.

"That's my good girl," he praises as he once again steps away from me. I whimper at the loss of contact as my core throbs needily.

"Stand up," he orders and I instantly obey, gasping as the heavy hook shifts inside of me. "Take the rope, wrap it around your chest, loop it at the back then throw it over the canopy frame of the bed."

"Yes Sir," I murmur, focusing on his words. My movements feel like a trance as I carry out his orders, basically tying the hook in pace to my chest and tossing the rope over. Every movement shifts the hook sending strong sensations coursing through my already heightened body.

"Well done," he praises, making me smile. "Though I want you to arch your back." Instantly I comply, arching and pushing my ass out. "More."

I curve my back more, sticking my ass out as much as I can, earning a satisfied grunt. He quickly adjusts the rope, removing the slack between the hook and chest anchor then grabs my left hand, raising it above my head. Wordlessly he guides me to stretch up and grip the rope before bringing my other hand to do the same, keeping even tension on it.

"Perfect," he says stepping back from me. My heart races once more as I maintain my position. I can only imagine how I look to him but the arousal and pride in his voice is incredibly comforting.

The position is slightly uncomfortable and leaves me feeling vulnerable and exposed yet I'm incredibly aroused. The pressure and sensation from the hook keeps the tightness in the pit of my stomach from relaxing and I can't hold back my whimper.

Jonathan runs his fingers down my back and gives the rope a light tap, making me groan in anticipation but he stops there. Instead, he walks around to the side of the bed where I can see him and lifts my chin to make me look at him. His pupils are blown and the sizable bulge in his pants tells me just how turned on he is.

"Tell me Bella, who tied you up?" He commands, voice dripping with authority and desire.

"I did, Sir," I reply breathlessly.

"And who holds you in place?" He asks, his gaze flickering to my wrists.

"I do Sir," I reply more confidently.

"Yes, YOU do," he replies, stressing you. "If it becomes too much, YOU, can set yourself free, understood?"

I take a moment to consider his words. This is the first time he has done bondage with me since my panic attack, yet it's done in a way that I have full control should panic take over. His will keeps me in place, but I'm in control. The realization is freeing and washes away the last of my anxiety, allowing me to submit fully.

"I understand Sir," I reply, feeling my body relax and my mind simmer down.

"Good girl," he whispers, tenderly caressing my cheek. "When I get back, I want three good things you are or can do... And Bella, make me believe them, not hollow words."

The sternness in his tone and warning makes me clench in anticipation, making me stifle a moan. He smirks and peels off his shirt before disappearing out of view.

"Remember Bella, good girls get rewarded, bad girls get punished... You want to be rewarded, don't you Bella?" He asks some distance behind me.

"Please Sir!" I beg, desperate for the reward of release. He doesn't respond, all I hear is the shower start to run. I'm here for the duration of a shower at least to come up with an answer.

I shift slightly in my bonds, already feeling the muscle burn from holding an unnatural position. The movement jerks the hook making me buck slightly. A wave of pleasure and pain shoots through me as I resume my position, minimizing the tension on the hook.

The throbbing in my core and position serves as a way to ground me, forcing me to stay in this moment. Wetness coats my inner thighs growing steadily in my hyper-aroused state.

I push everything away and focus on the task at hand. Three things... such a simple request yet when he asked for one I couldn't even come up with that, now I need three.

The awkward position is steadily heading into discomfort as the burn of exertion sets into all of my muscles. My arms ache, being stretched so high above my head yet I don't dare let go.

I can do this! Three things, just a little longer.

I rack my brain as I strain, listening to the steady fall of water, waiting for the cut-off. All I need is three things, just three! He said he could come up with over a dozen, yet I struggle for three.

Once again I concentrate, pushing away my doubt and insecurity and try to focus on seeing myself like he does. A sense of serenity takes hold as I surrender, opening myself to the possibilities.

After what feels like both an eternity and not long enough the shower turns off. A moment later, Jonathan walks into the room and he makes his way over to me, painfully slow. He stands so close I can feel the heat rolling off of him and the scent of his body wash surrounds us.

I whimper, anxious for him to say or do something, but we are on his schedule, not mine. Jonathan finally walks into view, his towel hanging dangerously low on his hips as water beads down his trim physique. He ruffles his hair with another towel, drying off the excess water before tossing it aside, leaving his chestnut locks dishevelled.

"So tell me Bella," he says, leaning over the bed, locking eyes with me, "Are you my good girl?"