Making a Masochist- Part III

This erotic tale is part of the Making a Masochist series I started last year. To get reacquainted with Savannah and Ian, start here.

Delicious flutters of post orgasmic bliss are still coursing through me as Ian and Lisa untie my wrists and ankles, one on each side. Now that I’m no longer struggling against the release of climax, the discomfort of my position and the tiredness of my limbs overtake me. Ian aids me to stand, ensuring I don’t fall, and sits me unceremoniously in the chair.

The ginger plug is gone, but a persistent ache still burns. A different, yet no less intense, flame confirms the stripes on my ass. Ian doesn’t look as angry as I thought he would. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Savannah?” he asks coldly. I know better than to reply just yet. Lisa doesn’t know what to do judging from her fidgeting fingers, but watches attentively.

“You’ve made a mess. Of my chair and the floor. Not to mention yourself.” Ian says the last part with a small self-satisfied smile. I don’t need to look down to know I’m still wet with my own juices, or that I’m sitting on the towel, now saturated with them. I’m sure my mascara has run, and my hair is in shambles too. Resisting the temptation to pat it into some semblance of order, I take a quick glance at Lisa, who wears a smile much like Ian’s. It is humiliating, and yet those tiny smiles send delightful sparks of awakening fluttering to my core.

“And I didn’t even get to the clamps yet.” Ian continues, a tone of disappointment lacing his words. It feels like a direct hit, rather than the passing remark it is. I look at the coffee table and see them sitting there mockingly, and it makes it worse.

“I think we’re done for today, since you can’t follow orders, Savannah. Lady Lisa,” Ian says in her direction. “Help Savannah with some balm for her arse, please. And then have her get dressed. I’ll take you both home.”

Again, I look at Lisa and can see the disappointment she feels as well. She gives me a small smile in support, I think, and that makes me feel a bit better.

Lisa is surprisingly gentle in applying the ointment, although she does take her time rubbing it in. “Beautiful,” she mumbles under her breath as she traces the welt that lines my thighs. “Those will be there for a while.”

“It feels like it,” I reply, and she responds with a gentle laugh. I can’t deny that her hands feel marvelous on my backside, even if it still feels strange to have a woman touch me this way. After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Lisa informs me she’s done with a light slap to my bruised ass.

Once I’m dressed, Ian opens the front door and, wordlessly, we all pile out into the afternoon air. Barely a word is spoken until we’re in front of Lisa’s apartment complex. This is the first time I’ve noticed she only lives a few blocks away. Lisa is making some remark about appreciating the lesson, when Ian asks, “Do you have plans on Saturday. Around noon?”

Lisa confirms she is free, and grins openly when she’s informed Ian will pick her up for another lesson then. I frown in the back seat, as weekends are always our designated time. Today was a wonderful rarity.

“Don’t worry, slut,” Ian says to me, looking at my reflection in the mirror, “You’ll be there too.”

Lisa chuckles at my noticeable show of relief, and Ian smiles knowingly.

I remain in the back until we arrive at my home, a small bungalow on a narrow street. Ian walks me to the door like he always does, but I’m surprised when he follows me inside.

“Run a bath. Your punishment wasn’t completed, nor your aftercare. And I now have new lessons to add to our time. Add some salts or lavender oil to the water if you have it.”

I scuttle away to the master bedroom ensuite and start the tub, then strip down. When he enters the room, he gives me an appreciative once over that arouses my senses. Even after six months, I’m always shocked how my body responds to just the slightest hint of dominance from him.

“Into the bath, slut.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say while turning off the tap. Stepping in, the heat reminds me of my previous whippings, and I hiss as the water laps over my hips. After a few seconds, it soothes as much as it stung, and I sink into the warmth, sighing as I lean back.

I’m shocked once more when Ian starts to unbutton his shirt, simultaneously kicking off his shoes. In one quick swoop, he frees himself from his pants and socks. Underneath, he’s commando, as always.

My eyes stay fixed on his flaccid cock as he struts towards me. No stranger to the sight of his manhood, nor our current positions, this moment feels oddly intimate in our relaxed states. It becomes no less so as he steps into the bath behind me, pulling me tight against him, his front to my rear.

“What did you think of Lisa today?” Ian asks me, tucking my hair behind my ear. His fingers roam over my jaw and chin, then past my throat to my breasts, buoyant in the water.

I think about my answer for what feels like a long time, enjoying his fingers as they tweak my nipples and knead the fleshy globes, but Ian remains silent, patiently waiting for my reply. “She didn’t seem put off by what she saw today. So, that says a lot already. But I think she’s nervous all the same. I can’t blame her, though. I was too. Still am, some days.”

Ian’s laughter rumbles behind me, reverberating through my chest.

“Do you think you’d like to spend more time with her? Or would that make school awkward?” He pinches one nipple extra hard, only releasing it when I stifle a grunt. Immediately, he soothes the ache away with gentle circles that dance to my center.

“I think it will be fine. We only have study hall together, so it’s not like I’ll see her in class.”

“Good. She’s going to act as your Mistress on Saturday. If that’s okay? It’ll give her a chance to try out the role with an experienced submissive. Someone well trained.”

A warm feeling of pride flushes over me, and I’m just about to voice a thank you, Sir, when he says,

“Of course. After six months, I would expect you to be able to hold back an orgasm on my command.” And just like that, I’m humbled once again.

Ian lifts his right leg from the water and hooks it over mine, then repeats the action with his left. Removing his hands from my tits, he places one at each thigh and pulls my legs apart, holding them tight with his own.

“Wrap your arms around my neck, and don’t let go. Let’s see if we can fix your little problem.”

Without thought, my arms are above me, enfolded around him as I lay my head back on his chest. They’re not even clasped together yet, before he’s separated my folds with one hand, one finger of the other pressed directly on my clit.

“Now, Savannah. On Friday, you will arrive at my home, as scheduled.” He presses harder on my button before pinching it between finger and thumb and twisting, as he had earlier with my nipples. Tingles of electricity sizzle through my core and my pussy clenches, making me release a laughable sound somewhere between a squeak and a moan.

“I have dinner plans for us, in public, so please dress accordingly.” We’ve never been out to eat together since that first night in the pub, but I can’t think about that now, because my traitor of a cunt is trying to take over the show.

Releasing my folds from his hold, he sinks two fingers into me instead, curving them expertly until they press against my g-spot. My legs tremble as I try to limit my arousal, but his hold mine firm.

“Saturday morning will be our usual routine.” The digits inside me are relentless, the two on my clit resolute. “When I return with Lisa at noon, you will wait at the door, kneeling, nude, the same as I would expect of you.”

“Yes, Sir.” I try to say, but it sounds more like croak. Ian vibrates with another low chuckle, and I close my eyes, knowing there’s no way I’m going to last.

“Eyes open Savannah, it’ll help you focus.” I do as I’m told with a bit of an eye-roll. Ian responds with an extra hard pinch on my clit, only releasing when I reward him with a whimper of protest.

“Are you getting close, slut? Find something to look at, stare at it.” Water sloshes over the side of the tub as Ian’s rapidly moving arm displaces it. My hips gyrate against his hand, although his legs haven’t budged. I concentrate on the faucet in front of us, our reflections distorted in the chrome. I watch as his hands manipulate me, forcing me closer to the edge.

Somewhere along our exploits, Ian’s cock has grown hard. It digs into my lower back, and I take the chance at shimmying against him. It jumps in response, but Ian just laughs again.

“Nice try, dirty girl, but that will not make me stop. Only two things are going to conclude this. One is your safeword. The other your orgasm. But not until I say, right, slut? You only come when I tell you?”

“Yes, Sir!” This time my answer comes out as a yell, much louder than I expect. A sudden wave of euphoric bliss rolls through me and I feel the first twitches of my impending climax. My cunt clamps around his fingers, momentarily stunting his thrusts.

“Focus Savannah. Breathe.” Ian’s chest fills behind me, and mine mimics him without my consent. With each inhalation, the waves of release recede, bit by bit, until the once uncontrollable surge feels like a slight trickle.

“Good girl,” he says, and I swell under his praise. The sensation quickly dampened as he removes both hands, pats my thighs, and tells me bath time’s over.

My reprieve is short-lived when he has me lay supine on my bed, still wet from the bath.

“Legs open, arms behind your head,” Ian says, looking down at me with hooded lids. When my knees contact either side of my comforter, Ian gets to his knees, runs his hands from calf to thigh, and reminds me again, “No coming.”

to be continued…