I stare at his retreating back unable to grasp what just happened until Brandon turns sharply to repeat his order. “Follow me.”

The invisible forces keeping my feet rooted to the ground lets up, I nod and trail behind him like a diligent puppy ready to serve its master. Silence is my only companion as we go down the long stairs and onto the lone corridor, passing through doors I didn’t know of their existence. He stops without notice and I almost run into his solid back.

A string of apologies leaves me, I twiddle my fingers, bite the inside of my lips and sigh. Brandon shifts to the side, I take one look in front of him and understand why he stopped. Seconds go by as he works the key into the keyhole of the door and my heart picks up pace, beating hard against my ribcage. My fists clench and unclench at my sides, I swallow. This feels like an execution with me as the prisoner up for slaughter.

The door opens and a strong, minty smell hits my nostrils as we step in, I sneeze and swipe at my nose. Taking cautious steps as if afraid an animal will jump out from the shadows, I wrap my arms around myself, doing my best to keep the rising fear at bay. My jaw slacks when my eyes settle on the whips and chains hanging on the wall, I blink multiple times, trying to understand this, this dim-lit room he brought me to and why.

Brandon barely gives me time to study the room, he comes in front of me and I find myself moving away from him. “Strip.”

“W... what?”

“I will not repeat myself. Strip.”

He takes calculated steps towards the door, a switch goes off and neon lights flood the room. I squint and the breath is knocked out of me when my vision clears, my hands go to cover my mouth as I spare the room another glance, afraid for what might happen next.

The drapes covering most of the cream walls compliment the scarlet covering on the king-sized bed which screams attention and promises guilty pleasures. I swallow and lick my lips when my eyes come to rest on the items atop the table Brandon is standing in front of, the only things I can identify are the floggers and handcuffs.

A lump lodges in my throat, I nod feverishly and start for the door when he turns in my direction, causing my feet to come to an abrupt stop. The need to race out of the room grips me but Brandon’s gaze keeping me captive has my brain on a lockdown. I stand there and stare like a robot waiting for orders, fear written all over my face.

Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, a shiver runs down my spine and panic sets in as he stalks towards me like a predator ready to bounce on its prey. I find myself edging backwards until my back hits the wall and I let out a small shriek at the contact. Clutching my jacket as if it will protect me from him, I look away when his eyes narrow to slits, focused on steadying my trembling hands. He won’t hurt me, I try to remind myself, he might be upset but he is still my Brandon, my husband. He won’t hurt me.

“Strip.”

My kimono drops to my feet with insane speed, my spaghetti strap gown joins it shortly. His eyes darken as they zero in on my underwear, I gulp and take it off, standing naked in front of him. My hands move over my breasts but the look he sends me has my arms falling back to my sides, I swallow the lump in my throat and grimace, I should have ignored Josh’s call. That has to be the reason he is doing this, right? Why else?

“I’m sorry.” Unsure why I’m begging him, I take a step forward and say, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be by the time we are done,” he whispers, making sure to step away from my reach. “Use your safe word if you want me to stop.” I nod in reply, still confused.

The missing pieces start to fall in the right places as Brandon walks to a table with whips and I nod again, grasping the situation. This. This is my initiation into the BDSM world as his sub. The weight on my shoulders chips off as I start to comprehend this, the initial fear turns into something else, a mix of apprehension and excitement. I want to know what sex in his world is like, see how far or extreme he will take it with me.

“Turn. Place your hands against the wall.” His voice leaves no room for argument, I turn to do as my dominant commands. Fear starts to build but I push it down, he won’t hurt me. Tempted to beg him for leniency, I open and close my mouth without saying a word.

The first stroke lands on my buttcheeks, I jump, more from the surprise impact than the pain. My hands go to massage my ass but the warning in his voice has them returning to the walls. Another hit lands on my naked butt, I buck from my position and whimper, hoping he doesn’t go harder than that, there’s only so much I can take.

“Hands on the wall.” I nod though he can’t see me. My safe word hangs on the tip of my tongue, I swallow, I am not a quitter.

“Why are you being punished?” Brandon asks while caressing the part of my skin his whip landed on. Trailing a line between my buttcrack, I let out a low growl when his finger tickles my asshole, oddly satisfied by the whip which lands on my ass again. He yanks my ponytail and I wince. “Why are you being punished?”

“I... I don’t know,” I manage to say. Seconds roll by, another stroke lands on my ass, this one more painful than the previous ones and I straighten up to massage my sore butt.

“Hands on the wall.” His voice is deceivingly calm, it sends shivers down my spine and I find myself obeying him. I can get through this. “If it hurts so bad, use your safe word.”

Shaking my head, I let out in a whisper, “No.”

I let out a cry as the whip lands on my butt again. “Why are you being punished?”

Thoughts swirl in my head, our argument replays itself in my mind like a movie and I shout, “For... For walking out on you?”

The flogger lands on my ass but this time, it comes with a new instruction. “Thank me and request for another stroke.” I shake my head slowly, I am not sure I can handle more of this for long but I can’t bring myself to use my safe word, I am not a quitter.

My decision is made when he hits me again and I scream out my response, “Thank you. May I please have another one?”

“You may.” He strikes me again. “Count.”

“One. Two. Three...”

We keep going at it until I reach the number five, I hear the sound of the whip dropping to the rugged floor, his retreating footsteps and I gulp. When he returns, a cold lotion connects with my buttocks, easing the pain and I sigh. I shiver when he flicks a finger over my clit, the need to stand straight threatens to choke me but the fear of getting whooped for disobeying him has my shaky hands glued to the wall and my back arched.

“You are wet,” he says in a bored tone with his finger teasing the entrance of my core and I bite down on my lips. My hands tremble, my legs quiver when he slides his digits into my wetness without warning, I moan softly. I hate to admit it but I am turned on by the beating, I want him. “Turn.”

My eyes lower to the feather-like object in his hand which he uses to trace lines on my breasts, I whimper when he stops, already aching for more. He chuckles, brushes my cheek with his thumb, I blink, now the whooping phase is over, I want to touch him. My juices drip down my thighs, he takes a step away from me and I sink my teeth into my lips.

Relief floods my vein when he stretches his hand to me, I take it and in silence, we walk to a long table. He lets go of my hand and I am overwhelmed by a sense of sadness at the loss of contact. I push back my fears as he searches through the items on the table, a smile flits to his lips when he finds what he was looking for and I frown.

He holds a clip connected by chains to my face, I gulp, confused and scared for its use. I let out a hiss when he closes the clips over my nipples and vagina lips, biting my lips to stifle the discomfort. He arches an eyebrow when I maintain a straight face, tugs on the chain and I whimper as pain spreads from my nipples to all parts of my body. Palming my breasts to reduce the ache should he repeat the action, I gulp when he narrows his eyes, bringing my hands to my side.

“It hurts, be gentle,” I murmur. “Please.”

Our gazes clash, when I think I have gotten through to Brandon, he pulls on it and I let out a small cry. Tears slip from the corner of my eyes, I bite my lips. “Use your safe word.”

Brandon eyes me as my lips part open but for some reasons, I can’t bring myself to say the word, a part of me enjoys what we are doing, the lashing and teasing. He scoffs, I look down at my naked body and back to him, he’s still fully dressed except for his shoes which are missing. I gulp at the bulge straining against his trousers and lick my lips, I want a taste of him. My hands cover my breasts when he lets go of the chain and I wince when my fingers brush my areola, if we keep up with this, my nipples might fall off.

Rubbing my legs against each other, I moan and nod when he asks me to hop on the table, getting into his demanded position. On my knees with my butt in the air, my stomach resting on the hard surface and my legs hanging from the table. He cuffs my hands to the poles sticking out from each end of the table and I shiver in anticipation. My eyes widen when he connects the nipple-vagina chains to a lock I never noticed and I am forced to keep my head straight with my legs spread apart because any slight movement might cause a pull on the clips. I don’t want that.

His breath titillates my asshole, his tongue poking at the tiny opening has me sucking in a deep breath. The feather touches on my inner thighs migrate to the entrance of my dripping core, I gasp when he runs his fingers over my sensitive clit, yanking on the clips without care. He spanks my ass, hard enough to make me wince, I yelp and he inserts tiny balls into my vagina. I swallow, waiting for more action but nothing happens, his touches have also ceased. He is. He is gone.

Music begins to play in the background and that’s when I feel it, the vibration coming from inside of my vagina. I scream as the intensity increases, my pupils dilate and my mouth hangs open as bolts of pleasure and pain wash over me when I jerk forward.

Brandon comes behind me to squeeze my buttcheeks together and I whimper. He spanks me for a while before I feel something wet and solid poke my anus. The size of the object tells me it’s not his finger, I forget about the clips and shoot forward, only to be reminded to stay still at the pain that tears away at my nipples and vagina. I shiver with dread, we have not discussed anal sex and I am not sure I can handle it.

“I... Brandon, I can’t.”

His hand connects hard with my butt and I scream, biting down on my lips when his fingers resume running over my clit. My legs vibrate in rhythm with the balls inside me, my feminine essence trickles down my thighs in torrents, I gasp at the contraction of my stomach muscles and sink my teeth into my lips when he slaps my vagina. I can feel it.

“You don’t cum until I say so.”

He yanks on my ponytail as if to pass the point across and I nod weakly. I bite down hard on my tongue to stop myself from letting go when he kneads on my ass with the balls still vibrating inside me. He doesn’t want me to come yet he is doing everything he can to bring me to the edge. My walls clench against the balls, his fingers pinch my clit and I squirm from the pressure of being forced to hold back, ignoring the pain in my nipples. Permission to release is all I want. I will do almost anything for it.

“Please.” My fingernails dig into my palm, my forehead bangs the table, he resumes massaging my butt with a ferociousness that was missing earlier and I start bawling, almost delirious from repressing my climax. “Please. I can’t hold it anymore.”

“No.”

My fingertips connect with the table in a frenzy, I start panting. I am not built for this. “Brandon.”

He slaps my ass and I yelp. “No.”

The command is barely out of his lips when my climax crashes over me, I close my eyes as my walls clench violently and shudder when warm liquid shoots out of my vagina in thin, fast streams. I am squirting. A hit to my butt jolts me out of my trance, the self-induced high from squirting for the first time, the fog in my head clears and I stiffen.

“You disobeyed me.” He comes to stand in front of me, the metal balls covered in my juices dangling in his hands and I grimace at the dark expression on his face. Not good.

My mouth opens to form an explanation but he places his index finger against his lips. I gulp, nearly drowning in my fears as he produces a key from his pockets. The rules of his sex world are unclear to me and I did try, I did my best to hold it in but I could not.

Brandon uncuffs me, I sigh and rotate my wrists to test their freedom but he cuts off my celebration by asking me to separate my buttcheeks. My heart picks up speed as I palm my butt on his instructions, baring my anus and vagina to anyone who cares to see.

I don’t have time to ponder on his disappearance from my line of vision when the first strike lands on my asshole, forcing a bloodcurdling scream out of my lips. My hands fall from my butt; I try to crawl away from him but the nipple clips force me to stay still for a moment. I tug on the chain, wince and inhale feverishly while trying to figure a way around the lock, my only coherent thought being on getting out of here in one piece. I don’t want any more part of this madness he fancies, it feels as if he set my anus on fire.

Each tug on the chain sends painful tingles throughout my heavy breasts but the pain in my nipples pale in comparison to the burning sensation of my anus and I nearly blackout when the whip lands on my buttcrack. Tears fall from my eyes to the table, I sniff and shiver, he forgets it’s my first time of doing this, I should be handled with care.

The third strike never lands because I cry out in a whisper, “Rose.” More tears spill from my eyes to the table. “Rose. Please, rose.”

Silence reigns in the room, I remain there on my knees while he unlocks the chain. He helps me to my feet, my limbs tremble and my eyes grow heavy. My legs are unsteady as I rest my weight against the table, doing my best to stand straight when all I want to do at this point is soak myself in a hot tub or be put to deep sleep. I need rest, a break.

Brandon returns with my clothes, he shoves it to my naked chest and I gulp. “Leave.”

My hands are shaky and the clothes fall to the ground. Brandon’s eyes narrows, I try to retrieve the gown but the pain in my waist stops me from bending. “I’m sorry.”

“Leave.” Tears well in my eyes, I try to touch him but he backs away from me. “Leave.”

The disappointment in his voice has me moving away from the table, I force myself to put one foot in front of the other but it seems to be the hardest task at the moment. I pause to clear my vision, my breath comes in short rasps and my eyes grow heavier. When Brandon appears in front of me, I latch onto his waist and refuse to let go.

“Carry me,” I whisper. He growls, I bury my head into his chest and let the waterworks loose. My whole body screams tired, dirty and drained. “Brandon. Please carry me.”

My pleas fall on deaf ears, he retracts my hands from his waist and I struggle to stand on my own. Black begins to dot my vision, my knees turn to jelly and I don’t try to stop myself from falling. I brace myself for impact but I never meet the ground. My eyelids flutter open, the ceiling comes in view, I’m in Brandon’s arms and he’s heading for the bed.

A soft sigh escapes me when my tired body connects with the mattress, I wrap my hands around his wrist to stop him from leaving. “Stay. Stay with me.”