Broken Submission

Punishment

He gripped the sides of the sink, trying to pull himself together. He'd never punished a sub in anger, and he didn't plan to start now. While angry, certainly. But not with so much rage pumping through his veins that the need to destroy, to torment, was overwhelming.

He could hear her moving around in the playroom. She would be ready for him soon, and he needed to get his head out of his ass. Visions of her, pinned against a wall, fear livid in her face, flashed before his eyes, and his fingers tightened until the wood beneath them creaked. He took deep, steadying breaths. They would get through this. They would get through this. They would get through this.

He momentarily lost his breath as he walked through the doorway. Her back arched sinuously, ass so high in the air behind her that he could see the mounds of her cheeks. Her hair spread like a halo around her face, which touched the floor. He turned his gaze to her chosen implements. The strap and the cane were hard punishment tools, both meant to leave marks for some time.

The clamps...many subs might not have thought of them a punishment, not a severe one anyway. But he remembered her reaction the first time he'd attempted to use them for fun, and he knew exactly how sensitive she was. That little pile of metal and chains might have been the worst instrument of the lot for her.

He said nothing as he walked toward her, pride stirring in his chest at the facts that she didn't move a muscle. He took his time as he circled her, stopping once he stood behind her. Her breathing sped up slightly as he stood there, and a little more as he crouched. He stared at her, utterly exposed to him. Her inner muscles worked nervously, the one thing she couldn't control. He stood.

"Amelia."

She said nothing. Good girl.

"Sit forward." He watched as she slowly lowered her backside onto her feet, torso lifting gracefully. She stopped with her back straight, eyes down, no wiggling or stretching even though he knew that the urge to adjust her spine after that position must have been overwhelming.

"Why are we here, Amelia?"

Her voice was quiet as she said, "Because I didn't trust you, sir, to take care of the situation. I should have. Instead, I tried to take care of it myself and almost got hurt. Because I lied to you and put us both in danger."

He brushed his fingers over her hair. "Yes, you did. Now, go to the bench. You are to remain on your knees until I say otherwise."

A shiver ran through her as she placed her palms on the floor and crawled over to the bench. It was difficult to situate herself without standing, and he made no move to help her. Finally, she was draped over the bench, cool leather holding her in place. She closed her eyes as she pressed her cheek against the pad.

He placed her arms in the restraints and tightened them, double checking as always that they weren't too tight. Her guilt doubled. He always took care of her, and this is how she'd repaid him.

His hand brushed her bottom before he brought it down with a crack of flesh on flesh. It would have hurt more if he had moved straight to a tool, but the damage to her skin would have been greater. Always looking after her. Even so, his hand was not an easy thing to take. She kept an iron grip on herself to keep from squirming in the restraints. When he finished, she felt none of the usual relief. She knew worse was coming.

He looked down at her softly glowing ass. She'd done well not moving. The bench presented her in such a way to he had full access to her, and he could see the dew gathered around her entrance. He ran his hands over her cheeks before sliding a finger between them, coming to rest between her folds. Just a hint of his touch and more moisture appeared, like magic.