Page 58
Story: Crown of Blood
"Two," she gasps.
By five, her ass is a beautiful shade of pink. By ten, it's mottled red and she's breathing hard, each number pushed through gritted teeth. Fifteen leaves her trembling, the chain above her jingling with the effort of holding herself steady.
“I could make you come just like this,” I hiss, slipping my fingers between her thighs, coating them in her slick heat. “You’re dripping, you filthy little traitor. Wet from punishment. You should be ashamed.”
She doesn’t answer. She can’t.
"Good girl," I murmur, running my palm over the heated flesh, feeling her twitch beneath my touch. "Now we can move on."
I return to the cabinet, retrieving what comes next in her education. The butt plug I choose from my selection is sleek black silicone, heavy in my palm as I coat it liberally with lubricant. Her breath catches when she hears the sound of the bottle opening, the wet slide of my fingers preparing the toy.
"You went into my files," I say, moving behind her again. "So now I'm going to go into your most private space. Let's see which of us breaks first."
I circle the plug against her tight little hole, feeling her tense at the unfamiliar sensation. My other hand finds her throat, tilting her head back to rest against my shoulder as I push the toy forward—not entering yet, just letting her feel the possibility of it.
“Relax,” I snap. “Or I’ll stretch you wider with my fingers first. You want that? You want me to stuff your tiny ass full until you scream?”
She moans a response that I don't even pretend to care about.
I feel the moment she forces her muscles to yield, her breath short against my jaw. I push forward, the plug breaching her entrance.
I work it in slowly, savoring every twitch of resistance. When the widest part pops past her rim, she gasps, legs trembling.
I press my lips to the nape of her neck. A seal of ownership.
I walk around to face her, taking in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her lips part with each shallow breath. The blindfold hides her eyes, but I can imagine the war raging behind them.
Pure fury and arousal battling for dominance.
Just like us. Just like everything our marriage is becoming.
From another drawer, I retrieve a small but powerful vibrator, sleek and curved to fit perfectly against her most sensitive spot. I strap it snug against her clit, right where she’s swollen and desperate, then flip the switch to low.
"This," I explain, running my fingers along the curve of the device, "is going to teach you about consequences."
I switch it on at the lowest setting. Her reaction is immediate—a jerk, a gasp, her body trying to move away but held in place by the restraints and my firm hand on her hip.
“Sensitive, huh?” I taunt, teasing the angle until she’s moaning breathlessly. “We’ll see how long that pretty cunt can take it.”
I move around her, fingers trailing across her flushed tits, pinching her nipples until she cries out. Her body’s on fire—plugged, vibrating, restrained. Her clit’s pulsing against the toy, slick leaking down her thighs.
"The plug ensures you feel everything more intensely," I explain, adjusting the vibrator slightly. "Filled and stimulated. Punished and pleasured."
I circle her slowly, watching her body respond as I adjust the intensity up and down without warning. Sometimes letting her climb toward release, other times denying her just as she crests the wave.
"Dripping for the man who's punishing you," I observe, my fingers finding the evidence of her arousal. "You know what that makes you?"
She doesn't answer, head hanging forward, breaths coming in shuddering gasps.
I twist the vibrator to a higher setting, making her cry out. "My filthy little traitor. Say it."
"Your..." she swallows hard. "Your filthy little traitor."
"Why did you go through my files?" I demand, turning the vibration down just enough to let her think clearly. "The truth this time."
She trembles, fighting against answering, so I return to the cabinet. The sound of the drawer opening must alert her, because her head snaps up, searching blindly through the silk covering her eyes.
"I have a larger plug here," I inform her, letting my voice carry the threat. "Much larger. Unless you want to feel it stretching you open, you'll tell me exactly what you were looking for."
By five, her ass is a beautiful shade of pink. By ten, it's mottled red and she's breathing hard, each number pushed through gritted teeth. Fifteen leaves her trembling, the chain above her jingling with the effort of holding herself steady.
“I could make you come just like this,” I hiss, slipping my fingers between her thighs, coating them in her slick heat. “You’re dripping, you filthy little traitor. Wet from punishment. You should be ashamed.”
She doesn’t answer. She can’t.
"Good girl," I murmur, running my palm over the heated flesh, feeling her twitch beneath my touch. "Now we can move on."
I return to the cabinet, retrieving what comes next in her education. The butt plug I choose from my selection is sleek black silicone, heavy in my palm as I coat it liberally with lubricant. Her breath catches when she hears the sound of the bottle opening, the wet slide of my fingers preparing the toy.
"You went into my files," I say, moving behind her again. "So now I'm going to go into your most private space. Let's see which of us breaks first."
I circle the plug against her tight little hole, feeling her tense at the unfamiliar sensation. My other hand finds her throat, tilting her head back to rest against my shoulder as I push the toy forward—not entering yet, just letting her feel the possibility of it.
“Relax,” I snap. “Or I’ll stretch you wider with my fingers first. You want that? You want me to stuff your tiny ass full until you scream?”
She moans a response that I don't even pretend to care about.
I feel the moment she forces her muscles to yield, her breath short against my jaw. I push forward, the plug breaching her entrance.
I work it in slowly, savoring every twitch of resistance. When the widest part pops past her rim, she gasps, legs trembling.
I press my lips to the nape of her neck. A seal of ownership.
I walk around to face her, taking in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her lips part with each shallow breath. The blindfold hides her eyes, but I can imagine the war raging behind them.
Pure fury and arousal battling for dominance.
Just like us. Just like everything our marriage is becoming.
From another drawer, I retrieve a small but powerful vibrator, sleek and curved to fit perfectly against her most sensitive spot. I strap it snug against her clit, right where she’s swollen and desperate, then flip the switch to low.
"This," I explain, running my fingers along the curve of the device, "is going to teach you about consequences."
I switch it on at the lowest setting. Her reaction is immediate—a jerk, a gasp, her body trying to move away but held in place by the restraints and my firm hand on her hip.
“Sensitive, huh?” I taunt, teasing the angle until she’s moaning breathlessly. “We’ll see how long that pretty cunt can take it.”
I move around her, fingers trailing across her flushed tits, pinching her nipples until she cries out. Her body’s on fire—plugged, vibrating, restrained. Her clit’s pulsing against the toy, slick leaking down her thighs.
"The plug ensures you feel everything more intensely," I explain, adjusting the vibrator slightly. "Filled and stimulated. Punished and pleasured."
I circle her slowly, watching her body respond as I adjust the intensity up and down without warning. Sometimes letting her climb toward release, other times denying her just as she crests the wave.
"Dripping for the man who's punishing you," I observe, my fingers finding the evidence of her arousal. "You know what that makes you?"
She doesn't answer, head hanging forward, breaths coming in shuddering gasps.
I twist the vibrator to a higher setting, making her cry out. "My filthy little traitor. Say it."
"Your..." she swallows hard. "Your filthy little traitor."
"Why did you go through my files?" I demand, turning the vibration down just enough to let her think clearly. "The truth this time."
She trembles, fighting against answering, so I return to the cabinet. The sound of the drawer opening must alert her, because her head snaps up, searching blindly through the silk covering her eyes.
"I have a larger plug here," I inform her, letting my voice carry the threat. "Much larger. Unless you want to feel it stretching you open, you'll tell me exactly what you were looking for."
Table of Contents
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