lost one of the balls, but there was no way to keep from it. My legs were bound away from each other, so I couldn’t pull them together. My boobs felt as if they were a thousand degrees, and getting hotter with every strike, and my pussy and ass vibrated, and Frost’s voice was on the other side of the wall, ordering me to come, over and over — and my body did as ordered, every damned time.
When he finally unstrapped me and carried me out, he sat me on a huge bondage table, supported me so I wouldn’t fall, and made me drink an entire bottle of a sports drink. My breasts were brilliant red. Deep magenta stripes had depth, as if they’d been painted on with textured paint. The nipples were a dark purple. He’d have to force me to lie on my stomach, if that was where he wanted me. No way could I manage to do it of my own free will.
No matter how badly I wanted to please him, they hurt too fucking bad to put my weight on.
“You’ll be on the cross next,” he told me. “They’ll hang free.”
“You aren’t supposed to be able to read my mind.”
“No, but I can read your expression — the big one and the micro ones.”
“There’s a bed back in the corner,” I told him.
He grinned. “I’m aware.”
Right. He had plans for me, and the cross was next. Not the bed. Though, the steel bed looked like it had a zillion bondage points made into it, and the footboard had a place for someone’s head and wrists to stick through, like old-fashioned stocks. It probably wasn’t used for a whole lot of cuddling.
The cross had really wide beams, which I thought odd. Once I was strapped in, he leaned me forward, and I understood those beams also acted as supports. I wasn’t far forward, just enough so a portion of my body weight leaned on the beams instead of my feet, but it was enough to help me relax.
“I’m going to bind you in a few more places,” he told me as he cinched my upper right arm to the beam under it, and then the left. “With just your wrists and ankles bound, you can move the center of your body around a great deal.”
He fastened my thighs to the beam in two places each, and then a wide band came up and over my back, around my kidneys.
That last one struck fear into me, and my blood felt like acid in my veins. He was going to hit me hard, and he wanted to make certain he didn’t hurt my kidneys.
“You can change and heal, if I get rough, but we have human clients in this room more often than not, Cheyenne. I’m using that strap to hold you still, not because I’m worried about my aim.”
He’d had me squat on the bondage table and push the remaining ball out, but the butt plug was still inside me. Now, he pulled it out, ran a lubed finger inside me, and then something else was pressing inside.
“Relax and accept it, kitty cat. Want you spread wide while I do this.”
Some plugs are wide inside and the neck is narrow. They hurt going in and coming out, and you know you’re filled while they’re in, but they don’t hold your asshole wide open the entire time. However, others are designed so you’re held open. No amount of squeezing or clenching or moving gives you relief, and sometimes, it just makes you cramp and burn that much more to wiggle and try for even a tiny respite.
This one felt as if the neck was as big around as a coke can, holding me open. It probably wasn’t, but damn, it hurt.
I cried, screamed, and begged, but Frost put a harness on to hold it in place, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about much of anything.
And then he walked in front of me and I saw the whip in his hands. Not a flogger. A whip.
“Seven strikes. They’re going to bleed. This cross connects to the fulcrum in the middle, meaning I can move the beams. I can spread your legs wider. I’m going to whip you, then spank your ass with a paddle, and then spread your legs and fuck your pussy with that huge plug in your ass.” He took a breath and let it out.