Page 84 of Ruined Vows

“Again. Please.”

After Isaak’s third spanking, a tear falls down my eye.

I’m crying.

I almost laugh with shock.

Oh my god, I’m actually crying! After so long with no tears at all—five whole years—I’ve been worried I was broken somehow.

“Kira?” Isaak questions in concern, leaning over.

I shake my head, my throat thick. He doesn’t get it. I’m not crying because it hurts.

It takes everything I have to make eye contact with him and beg, “Please. Keep going. Don’t worry if I cry. It’s a good thing. Trust me.”

He’s still frowning, but he nods. He continues spanking me and the precious tears flow, my mind blessedly empty.

I mean, there’s obviously something going on. But marvelously, it’s happening in my unconscious, or maybe just in my body. I’m so thankful for the release, either way.

And unlike during my rigorous meditation sessions where I try so hard to empty my mind, with each new spanking Isaak delivers on my quickly heating ass, my brain goes immediately blank.

He’s not spanking me hard. They’re more like swats that make my flesh jiggle. It’s only when he smacks in a place he’s already hit before that I begin to feel the sting.

But then, my whole butt’s just so warm that it almost feels like nothing at all the more he spanks me, even when I can tell he’s spanking me harder.

I start to wait for the harder spanks, closing my eyes. I know there are probably people in the club watching us. Wasn’t that part of what thrilled my rebellious mind when I climbed up on the table? Was that only fifteen minutes ago? Or a half hour? I think I’m starting to lose track of time in this limitless, hazy place.

I just know I don’t care about the people out there anymore.

I want to be here, in the bubble of this quiet place, with my body and Isaak, who’s holding me tethered here.

He’s such a big man but I can tell he’s handling me so carefully. He spanks me in a way where his fingertips graze my pussy. In my mind’s eye, I see my pussy light up like a bright beacon in my dark, calm body.

I shift in my safe confines to feel out the contours of this strange inside-out body, all my nerve endings lighting up like little sparkle-signals sent outwards from my lit-up core.

As if he can see exactly what I’m seeing, too, Isaak’s hands drop between my legs, his big hand familiar with me after our week exploring every part of one another in bed. He immediately teases around my clit, leaving me aching instead of immediately giving me satisfaction like he usually does.

My breathing gets short, and I try to squirm toward his body. But that only makes him retreat again. He returns to spanking me, except more and more often, his blows land between my spread thighs, long fingers smacking my open sex.

It’s delicious and wrong by every measure of calculation I grew up with. Everything I’m doing right now breaks the rules.

And it feels so fucking liberating my mind just blanks out with the freedom of it. It feelssoooogood.

On and off the teasing goes. There’s only Isaak and me in this room in my mind now, dark and deep and sultry.

If my bonds were untied, I would turn to fall at his knees and beg. I would worship him, and suck his toes, and suckle his balls in my mouth, and let him suffocate me with his cock down my throat.

I’ve never wanted to worship someone’s body before like this. I should find it alarming, but I don’t. Nothing is alarming here. I’m all lizard brain. And I like it. No, I love it. I love the feeling of wanting to worship the ground his body walks on.

When I feel his hard cock sliding between my thighs and pushing between the lips of my sex, I feel such heated gratitude that all I can do is weep and push back against him, begging him to get inside me faster.

His hands grasp my hips, and he slides easily inside my wet sex. Well, at least the tip of him does. He’s so thick, there’s no way all of him goes in easily. He never does, even after all the sex we’ve been having. He’s just too big. I let out a sharp exhale as he continues pushing in, shifting my hips against the bench to try to fit him better.

“That’s right. Let me in, beautiful.”

I do. I relax and let him in. He spanks me, and I allow him in further.

Then he bends over my back, which embeds him even deeper. My eyes are still closed, so I can only gasp when I feel the pinch at first my left nipple—much sharper than usual when he just pinches them with his hand—and then my right.

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