Chapter 183: Machala
I had no time to think about strangling Damian. I always knew I was physically as well as mentally weak though I was good at hiding it. Luke took my arm and steered me to the couch. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him scoop up his bag. I knew I would be reacquainted with each and every tool he brought, and my pulse accelerated.
"Bend over the couch. We're getting this part of your punishment over with first and then we'll start the real fun. Hands on the back of your head."
I did as he said, most of my fight gone.
His voice went lower with authority, "Legs wider." I stepped out another six inches. In that same make-me-wet tone, he continued, "I have a pattern in mind. I won't be stopping until it's complete."
Fuck. I would rather there be a number. But... he knew that. If he stuck to my ass and legs, I was getting out of this easier than usual. A small part of me was disappointed. Extreme pain might give me the solid night's sleep that I needed so desperately. Also an orgasm, which I needed just as desperately.
He lay two wooden drumsticks on the arm of the couch well within my line of sight, followed by dreadlocks. Fuck, he meant to hurt me, and my disappointment vanished. I'd known nothing about drummers' implements until Luke. I would swear each one was designed for sadistic pleasure. The dreadlocks were small stainless steel wires braided together and attached to a handle. They were short, and Luke didn't need to work hard to make the pain they created excruciating.
Next, he pulled out a large glass butt plug. I squirmed when I saw the plug was too large for me. I know he saw because I heard his low, pleased chuckle. He squirted lube on the plug before drizzling more between my ass cheeks. While digging one hand into my hip to hold me in place, he used the head of the plug to push in the lubrication without touching me with his fingers. Just the tip of the damn plug was uncomfortable, the bastard.
"I know this is big, but I anticipate fucking your ass tonight and I want you ready."
If he would take this damned ball gag out, I would tell him exactly what I thought of his expectations. In the beginning of our relationship it had taken two weeks to prepare me for his cock anally. No one had been near my ass since we broke up.
Saliva ran out the side of the gag, wetting my couch. I had no idea how to explain drool stains to my housekeeper... or blood. Every so often Luke crossed that line just so I knew he could. And because I was crazy, my pussy flooded at the thought of how bad tonight could be.
The plug went in an inch. The forced stretch burned, and tightening my muscles made it worse. From prior experience, I knew fighting increased the pain. It took everything I had to release the air from my lungs and relax.
The bastard hit me hard across one ass cheek with his palm.
"It's supposed to hurt, girl. This is punishment."
Fuck, he wanted me fighting. I started to lift up, but he grabbed a large chunk of my hair and jerked my head slightly sideways so he spoke directly into my ear again. "That's right, the pattern will reach clear to the backs of your knees now. You're such a delightful, naughty girl. I don't need an excuse to decorate the front of your beautiful body, but if you keep it up I'd be happy to." With a last jerk to my hair, he released me so my upper body fell back over the couch.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind halfway between struggling like mad or giving in. This was what I craved for the night, but fighting my needs was part of the turn on for me. He pushed on the plug and my inner muscles involuntarily fought the entry. I screamed against the gag-my frustration and anger pouring out. He continued pushing not caring at all about my pain. The plug seated within me and the agonizing stretch diminished. Even with this preparation, I knew taking his cock would hurt.
I looked over my shoulder to see him pick up a drumstick. Sixteen inches of pure torture that had me wetter than I'd been in months. The things this man did with drumsticks were perverted, but that was Luke. I knew he was near me, but I couldn't help the small jump I gave when his hand touched the middle of my back and pushed my belly farther into the top of the couch. If I'd known I'd be in this position, I would have tested the back for comfort like I had the cushions before I bought the damn thing. The first strike hit my upper ass cheek-hard. I cried out through the ball gag.
"I'm disappointed in you, girl. Hush now, I've only started. There'll be plenty of time for screaming later."
His words caused a jolt of fear like he knew they would. Only Luke truly saw the real me buried deep inside-the ice queen who hated weakness. I fought submission with everything I had, but at the same time I craved the release it brought. A quandary only Luke seemingly understood.
The drumstick landed an inch down from the first strike, bringing fire. No sound escaped my lips. Luke was right; I could take so much more than this. He methodically worked down one side of my ass to my thigh, each strike precise with the same force. Outside of punishments, he took his time warming me up with a flogger before switching to the sticks or some other torture device. He liked a pattern with the same swelling and redness in each line. He created a variety of different sized designs. On Friday nights, he liked to leave the backs of my legs flawless, only painting my ass. This gave him fresh skin to work on the following day. A virgin canvass, ready for his creation.
Tonight was different. This was no weekend of D/s. This was one night after a string of nothingness that had become my life. Relief swelled through me. I stopped holding back and let the tears flow. I couldn't help it. I wanted so much more than this or just weekend play. I wanted Luke Isaak to love and claim me as his.
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