Page 22 of Hard Discipline

A flush of heat goes through me as I realize it. The truth is laid bare in his gaze and satisfaction kicks hard in my gut in response. I can’t hide it, so he sees— and abruptly he rips the blanket away from me, turning me in his lap so I’m facing away, my back to his front. He snakes an arm around my neck, strong fingers gripping me just below my chin, his palm pressing against the pulse in my throat. It’s not a chokehold, but his grip is like iron all the same. I’m caught and held there, shaking once again, my breathing out of control.

“Fucking sub,” he growls in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Of course I can have anything. I’m the Master here. I can have whatever I fucking want from you.” His grip tightens. “Perhaps I’ll fuck you right now, right here. Because I can have anything I want. Isn’t that right, sub?”

I’ve pissed him off, I can hear it in the roughness of his voice and in the tension pulled tight in his body, and a small part of me is panicking, expecting violence. Because that’s what men do when they’re angry.

“I-I’m sorry, M-Master,” I gasp, unable to hide the note of real fear in my voice. “I-I shouldn’t have pushed?—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he interrupts, his voice hard and deep. “Don’t panic, just breathe.”

Instinctively I obey, and as I do I realize that his grip on my throat is firm but not too much. I can breathe with ease. He won’t hurt me. Of course he won’t. His control over himself and me is perfect.

“Tell me what happened,” he says and it’s definitely an order.

But my brain is still flailing and I don’t understand. “W-what?”

“The attack,” he clarifies. “What happened to you?”

I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to tell him, and he must know that because he continues, “I need to know, sub.You panicked just then and I didn’t hear a safe word. That means you were too frightened to say it and I can’t have that.”

He’s not wrong, I didn’t even think about sayingred. “Please don’t send me away,” I babble, because he’s going to isn’t he? He won’t want to deal with my fear and anxiety, no one does, and I can’t?—

“I’m not going to send you away.” His dark, deep voice cuts through my whirling thoughts, sharp as a scalpel. “But I will if you don’t tell me.”

All I can think is that I don’t want him to do that, so I open my mouth and it all comes flooding out. “I went to a bar for a drink with some friends, and I drank too much. I wanted to go home early to recover because I had to study, so I left before them. It was dark and there was a guy waiting in an alley beside the bar, and he jumped me.” I inhale shakily then go on, “I-I think he was angry and he kept calling me names. He punched me a couple of times, then pushed me against the brick wall and started tearing at my clothes.” My eyes are filling with tears again, remembering my own sense of powerlessness at how weak I was against him, and how I knew that there was no way to stop him from doing anything he wanted. “I c-couldn’t stop him, I was too weak. And so…” I swallow. “I didn’t even try.” It sounds so insignificant when I say it all aloud. Thousands of women have had this experience, I’m not unique in any way, and I’m angry with myself that I let it affect me so deeply. “It’s so stupid,” I say hoarsely. “I let it ruin my whole career and my life, and I?—”

“Stop.” Mr. Fairfax interrupts me again and his fingers move against my skin testing his hold on my throat, and for some reason, this time it reassures me rather than panics me. “You didn’tletanything happen, understand? Some cowardly motherfucker saw an opportunity and took it, that’s all.” His lips are near my ear, brushing gently against my skin. “He didn’t take your strength or your determination, it’s still there, sub. Becauseif it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be naked in my lap, about to be fucked into insensibility.”

That shouldn’t be hot, it really shouldn’t, and it shouldn’t be reassuring either. Yet it’s both. Mr. Fairfax who is older, richer, and far more experienced than I am, not to mention exponentially more powerful, thinks I’m strong and determined, and he wouldn’t say that if he didn’t believe it. It certainly feels like the truth. I mean, he’s right, isn’t he? I thought about leaving, yet I didn’t. I stayed. I was determined to.

“B-But….” I stammer, still doubting.

“What I say goes,” he says, one thumb stroking up and down on the side of my neck. “So if I say you’re brave and strong then you are.”

I close my eyes. It can’t be that easy, can it? To just… believe him? I want to so badly.

“Trust me, sub,” he murmurs, reading my mind yet again, his warm breath on my neck. “That’s all you have to do.”

And I haven’t, I suddenly understand. A small, frightened piece of me has been holding back, too afraid to give him that last little bit of trust. But… maybe I don’t have to be frightened anymore. Or maybe I can be, but I can also surrender everything to him anyway. Give him all of my trust and let him do what he wants with me. He won’t hurt me, not like my attacker did, and while everything he’s done has been challenging, that’s a good thing. I’ve avoided being challenged for a long time, because I never felt equal to it. But I feel equal to it with him, because he believes I am.

So I relax, surrendering everything I am to him. “Yes, Master,” I breathe.

His body is a furnace at my back, hard and hot, his grip on my throat firm. “Good girl,” he says, and I can hear in his voice that somehow he knows what I’ve just given him, and that it pleases him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without warning, he slips ahand between my spread thighs, his fingers exploring the slick folds of my pussy. I’m already wet and my clit is still so achingly sensitive from the clamps that when he strokes it, then pinches it, a hoarse scream rips from my throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs roughly against my neck. “But since you’ve already had an orgasm, you’re not allowed another. So if you come, I’ll punish you.”

Dimly, I’m astonished that I’m even capable of pleasure after that last orgasm and the conversation we’ve just had. Yet with only a few words and rough touches, he’s got me building to another climax already. But I’m not going to be able to obey him, because if he’s going to fuck me the way he said he would, I’m done.

Except I have no chance to think further, because while one hand grips my throat, I can hear him undoing his zipper with the other. Then comes another rustle of fabric and the hot, hard head of his cock is pressing my wet flesh. I gasp as he pushes into me, because he’s not gentle, and he’s huge, and I’m stretched wide. His grip on my throat tightens, keeping my back firmly against his chest, his other hand spreading me as he pushes in deeper. I shudder and let out another scream of agonized pleasure, because it’s so good. So fucking good. I don’t even think I need him to move. I’m going to come the moment he’s fully inside me.

“You fucking did this,” he growls against my neck and I can feel the edge of his teeth against my skin. “You got me hot, sub, and so you’ll deal with the fucking consequences. You’ll take all of me and I don’t care if it hurts. All I care about is that you don’t. Fucking. Come.”

Then his hand around my throat grips me hard, while the other slides beneath my left thigh, pulling my leg wider. He thrusts inside me even deeper and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to hold back the shattering pleasure.

I’m shaking now and he’s moving, his cock huge inside me, and I’m crying again because I want to obey him but I can’t and we both know it. The pressure and the friction is tearing me apart. He lets go of my leg, his fingers sliding over my agonizingly sensitive clit, and he pinches— making me wail as the orgasm smashes through every shred of resistance I have left, crushing me beneath its weight.

He doesn’t stop though. He keeps thrusting, keeps fingering my clit. “Why is it so hard to obey a simple instruction?” he asks roughly. “Try again, sub.” He nips the side of my neck at the same time as he gives my clit another pinch, and just like that the aftershocks of the climax I just had, build relentlessly to another.

“I—I c-can’t,” I babble hoarsely.

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