Page 17 of First Time

We’d left not long afterward, my hopes for the two of us finding better footing once more fading.

I shrugged my coat off inside our bedroom, my gaze on the spanking bench he kept there rather than in the dungeon. The damn thing was homemade and had no padding. I often plucked splinters from my knees and chest after Stephen finished with me. I had asked for something to kneel on and rest against after the first use but ended up with cane welts for complaining that all his hard work in building the contraption wasn’t good enough. He’d called me spoiled. Ungrateful.

Head hanging, I brought to mind the carefree, attentive young man I had known him as back in high school. It wasn’t until a couple of years after graduation when life’s responsibilities and work stress began to affect Stephen. He had grown unstable, an emotional roller coaster without an operator’s control.

I agreed to his newest outlet he claimed he needed to calm himself, and although he didn’t offer me aftercare in return for sceneing anymore, I wanted to think that he would heal.

My cousin was the only one who knew about Stephen’s problems, and I had shared with her to get some advice on how to be a good submissive. She had called Stephen’s treatment of me abuse, but I remembered the old Stephen and knew that caring part of him just lay dormant inside.

Footsteps squeaked on the stairs beyond our opened bedroom door, and I quickly climbed onto the bench, clenching my eyes shut.

“You were a good sub tonight, Becky.”

His words warmed me, easing my anxiety enough that I slumped on the wooden contraption I despised. I listened as he pulled off the pants he’d bought with the money we’d been saving for a new range since two burners on the current one in our kitchen didn’t work.

“I think I’m in the mood for the flogger tonight.”

Relieved he hadn’t chosen his favored cane, I exhaled a sigh. “Thank you, Sir.”

A whoosh of air, and I jolted forward at the impact, shrieking as he enjoyed. The quicker he got turned on again, the sooner he would take me from behind and be done for the night. At least the toy he’d chosen didn’t hurt as badly as the cane.

I prayed for the arousal I’d felt at Master Cooney’s touch, but my body didn’t respond to Stephen. Whatever tingling the shibari master had induced between my thighs refused to rise up and ease my suffering as lash after lash rained across my back and thighs. Even slight pain held no pleasure for me, nor would it ever. God knew Stephen had tried to convince me otherwise one too many times.

But ropes? What if he caressed me as Master Cooney had while binding my wrists? What if Stephen took care in checking to make sure my circulation didn’t cut off? What if he promised to give me control over the scene, to end it if I didn’t feel comfortable?

The words of praise Master Cooney had poured down over me whispered through my head. I remembered his scent. How his eyes had hungered for me.

My breasts went heavy, and an ache settled in my nipples regardless of the stinging swats Stephen laid on me. Master Cooney had wanted to feast between my thighs—called my arousal nectar.

Oh, God.

I gulped, letting out another whimper. I couldn’t think of him, couldn’t allow myself to be aroused by someone else. I couldn’t do that to the man I’d loved for twelve years. Couldn’t stand the idea of disloyalty even emotionally.

The shame shattered through my body’s attempt to rouse pleasure. I focused on the stinging strips of leather lashing against my lower thighs, too damn near to the backs of my knees for comfort. Stephen knew my sensitivity there and yet he continued downward, ripping shrieks from my lips once more.

I sobbed. Begged him to stop.

He didn’t, but at least he didn’t belittle or holler at me over whatever had set him off. Maybe he just needed to vent pent-up aggression that my two blow jobs hadn’t fully satisfied since dinner. Perhaps Chantelle’s had been overwhelming, had gotten him too worked up.

If that was the case, I had no wish to ever return—I would find some excuse to get out of going to the second class on the following Friday as he’d informed me we would be doing.

I lost count of the strikes and drained my tear reserves long before Stephen finally shoved into me with nothing more than his pre-cum to ease the way. Somehow, I managed to keep my lips clamped shut even though his fucking into me stung like a bitch.

Three pumps and he finished.

Sagging against the bench, I waited to see what he would do.

He turned on the shower and came back for me, helping me up.

Sobs wanted to rip from my throat, but knowing an emotional upheaval would only set him off again, I leaned into his sweating body and allowed him to lead me into the bathroom.

“You did well tonight,” he said and kissed me on the forehead.

I blinked, hope attempting to rise inside my chest. When he handed me a cloth, I gladly washed him clean beneath the spray. And when he turned to do the same for me? I was thankful for the water pouring down between us that hid my tears of relief.

Chapter 9

Daniel

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