Page 39 of Payback
My hand slid even higher, poised to find her sensitive spot, but she skillfully evaded me by using the excuse of cleaning, distancing herself. However, as she bent forward, she inadvertently presented herself in a vulnerable posture, inviting retribution. I responded by delivering a firm smack to her backside as punishment, propelling her slightly forward so that she had to clutch the kitchen counter’s edge for balance. Stunned, she turned to face me, her eyes aflame with anger.
“I wasn’t finished,” I asserted, my hand snaking out to encircle her throat, drawing her nearer. “You don’t walk away when your Master is about to grant you release.”
“I don’t see the need for it at the moment.”
“I see every need for it. The thought of going to sleep while you remain agitated with guilt brings me immense satisfaction. You know that you hate I possess the capability to bring you pleasure, my little slut. But I’m already well acquainted with the specific movements that you enjoy having your clit rubbed.”
Her cheeks flushed an even deeper hue. Knowing that I already understood her intimate needs was a revelation difficult to grapple with. She attempted to extricate herself, yet I clutched her harder, assuring that she remained confined.
“Bend over,” I instructed.
“What?” she exclaimed.
“Your disobedience has earned you a lesson. Bad sluts don’t get to come. They get punished,” I reminded her.
With a glare brimming with resentment, she met my gaze. But my retort was a gratified smile, savoring the discomfort I had brought her.
“You’re despicable,” she uttered, her sole response before wrenching herself away, and I permitted her escape. I observed her leaning over the kitchen island, her ass bared. Diverting my gaze, I spotted a spatula. Unbeknownst to Alison, I snatched it up before I began the disciplinary strikes. The initial resounding impact caught her off-guard, and she emitted a startled cry, unprepared for the intensity of the blow.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed, then glancing over her shoulder, she was greeted by subsequent punishing smacks, forming a repetitive sequence. The intensity diminished as I sought to transform the searing ache into a tantalizing throb she couldn’t resist. However, the sharp sting began to overwhelm her. I discerned the quiver in her form as her ass and upper thighs assumed a hue reminiscent of my target tonight. The connection between the two only stoked the powerful darkness within me. A darkness born of Alison’s own creation, and now it hungered for her. Flipping the spatula, I used the narrower end to trace down her damp slit. The tip got caught at her entrance and startling her with the unfamiliar sensation so close to that intimate part.
“I’ve accepted my punishment, Master,” she breathed, her voice shaking slightly. “Is it enough for today?”
“Aren’t you burning?” I taunted in a whisper. “Your pussy clenches around the handle’s tip, as if yearning to consume the entire grip.”
“I-I’m all right,” she lied.
She was like a dog in heat, panting and striving to deny the intense longing within her, the craving for anything that would bestow pleasure. Deliberately, I inserted the handle a fraction more, eliciting a muted gasp at the intrusion. As pleasure gradually eclipsed the ache, she pushed back, accommodating more of the length.
“I thought you claimed to be fine,” I reminded her.
“Please...” she implored, her voice a subdued murmur.
“Please, what?” I taunted.
She shifted, a gentle forward and then backward motion, rhythmically stimulating herself with the handle. The gestures were almost imperceptible, but I discerned them and sensed her pussy sucked the rubber grip. Fuck, even my own composure began to unravel, overwhelmed by need for more. Yet, I persisted in observing her discreet quest for gratification. Denial was powerful, a truth I had already demonstrated tonight. My assertion remained unwavering: misbehaving sluts were denied release.
Seizing her hips, I gradually inserted the handle a fraction further, the motion making her pussy clench around it, accompanied by her groan. In a swift motion, I withdrew, leaving her panting and yearning. Discarding the spatula, she cast me a bewildered glance over her shoulder.
“Now you’ll go to sleep, turned on and on the verge of coming. Tomorrow, you’ll beg me for that orgasm,” I growled darkly, my grip on her jaw demanding her focus. “And, my sweet slut, you better put on quite the performance, or I’ll prolong your agony.”
“That’s what I desire,Master,” she snapped, her voice a rasp. Though she resisted the orgasm, the truth prevailed: if I hadn’t intervened, she would have driven herself to that euphoric high. The pleasure was undeniable. Her body’s insistence on it and the amplified longing that resulted from denial was a cruel combination. I knew that teasing her to the edge would prove to be a useful tool for breaking. Few things were as powerful as nearly attaining that peak of pleasure.
“We will discern what you genuinely desire when I have teased your body so much that you’re crying for it,” I countered.
“I won’t succumb so easily! You have no idea of the opponent you’ve chosen.”
I smiled, astounded by my own enjoyment of witnessing Alison’s more evil side emerge. That was the persona I sought—a version of her I yearned to punish for so long. Now she proclaimed in an irate tone that I was ignorant of my chosen opponent, but I knew. I knew Alison more intimately than anyone, perhaps even more intimately than her own family. I would shatter her resolve. And merely to incite her further, I pulled her closer, capturing her lips with mine.
Chapter 21
-Alison-
A kiss wasn’t the reaction I anticipated. I presumed he would reintroduce the spatula or use his hand for another punishment. The pain’s intensity had been sharp, causing tremors that nearly compelled me to plead for mercy. Yet, I was determined not to appear weak. I accepted my punishment with dignity, though my ultimate undoing lay in the urgent yearning for the pleasure following after. The mere sensation of the handle within me incited a subtle sway of my hips, urging for more. I attempted discretion, aware that he was in clear sight of my self-indulgence. The lingering burn from the spanking was unbearable. While the strikes had moderated, a fusion of sweetness and residual sharpness was what I craved. I sought pleasure to rise from the aftermath of his ungentle handling. I knew he possessed the capacity for more forceful blows. Jared was no longer the scrawny kid overpowered by two girls.
He could administer blinding agony and force my pleading from my lips. However, that wasn’t his goal. I knew his aim—it was about slowly gaining my surrender. Rather than driving me to the brink hastily, his intention was to edge me toward it, inducing a maddening frenzy. I wouldn’t shatter! I made it unequivocally clear that he was oblivious to the opponent he’d elected to confront. Yet, his response wasn’t a threat, but another kiss. An astonished whimper escaped me, unprepared for its repetition. Instinctively, I sought to withdraw, as this kiss seemed even more intimate than his prior actions. I needed to stop it, trying to angle my head away. His hold on my jaw remained unyielding, his lips persistently sealing with mine. I saw no alternative and clamped my teeth onto his lower lip with such intensity that the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. His recoil wasn’t as pronounced as I’d anticipated, and his eyes betrayed little anger. He swept his tongue across the injury, erasing the blood with a faint smile.
“Why does pain bring you pleasure?” I snarled.
