Damien looked up at her, met her eyes. Smiled wickedly. Then he let the wine glass drop.
It hit the floor and shattered, wine and shards of glass going every direction. The sound was loud and every demon in the room stopped and looked up. The silence was so complete the air could be heard as it hissed quietly through the room. Damien was up in a flash. He snapped the leash on Clara's collar and jerked her away from the mess.
"On your knees," he snarled at her. "Insolent slave! You will be punished until your screams echo in every corner of hell!" He turned sharply and started to stride from the room. Since he hadn't told her to get up, Clara followed as fast as she could behind him, crawling on her hands and knees. When she started to pant from trying to move so quickly, did she imagine that he slowed slightly? Had he stopped to talk to that demon in the hall because he had some real business with him, or was he giving her time to catch her breath? Either way, they started off again at a slower pace. Initially, Clara was grateful for it. Then, as the hallway stretched endlessly onward, she began to regret the time she had to reflect on her decision.
How stupid had she been to challenge the devil!? What had she been thinking, purposely invoking his wrath? Now he was leading her to some unknown punishment. What would he do to her? How much pain would be involved? The questions swirled in her mind like a storm. Uncertainty and fear and anticipation coiled tight in her belly. By the time they reached the room, she wanted to cry with relief, simply to have the waiting and wondering over.
Damien walked to the corner and sat heavily in the chair there. He dropped her leash over the arm of the chair and looked at her, fingers on his cheekbone as he tipped his head and studied her. "Take out my cock," he said finally. Clara reached forward with trembling fingers and unbuckled his belt. Then she unfastened his pants and freed his erection. "Suck," he ordered softly. Somehow, his lack of anger made her fear heightened. She leaned forward and took his thick cock into her mouth. He wrapped her hair around his fist and pushed her down the considerable length of him. It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't exactly forceful either. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, making her body totally pliant as he moved her up and down his cock. This couldn't be the punishment he had in store for her. So what did he have in mind?
Just when she thought the waiting would drive her mad, Damien pulled her away from him and stood her up. He pulled at the laces on her leather pants and peeled them down her legs. When she was clad in only the corset and underwear, he jerked on her collar and led her to the bed. Wordlessly, he bent her over it. Then he snapped his fingers. She couldn't see what he'd conjured, but a moment later she felt something against her back. It felt like many thin strands of leather, each with a small knot at the end. He trailed it up and down her back, sliding it over her thinly covered ass.
"That was quite the display you put on, slave," he murmured softly. Clara said nothing. She waited with bated breath as he ran the whip over her slowly. "Almost as if you wanted to displease me. As if you wanted this." He flicked the whip lightly and the strands licked at her skin. "But punishment isn't punishment if you enjoy it too much." There was lightness in his tone though she knew he was serious. "So I do not want you to come. Look at me Clara." She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. "Do not come," he repeated in his most authoritative voice. She shivered and nodded. "Good." When he nodded in return, she faced forward again, body tensed and waiting.
He cracked the whip, sending the leather exploding across her ass. He drew back and whipped her again. She could feel each strand as it connected with her over the thin panties. Feel each knot at the end bite into her. He brought the whip down again and again, raising heat to her skin as pain assailed her and bringing a throbbing to her core as pleasure built as well. Suddenly he stopped and thrust the handle of the whip in her pussy. She gasped, moaned low when he quickly moved it in and out of her. Just when she felt she couldn't hold off her orgasm any longer, he pulled it out and whipped her again.
It felt as if the routine went on for hours. He whipped her until her ass was sore and her body aching for release. Then he would thrust the handle into her and fuck her with it until she was right on the edge of orgasm. And he would stop, pull out, and whip her again. The burning need for relief ate at her, clouded her thoughts until all she could do was moan and writhe and silently plead for mercy. She began to shake, not sure how much longer she could take it.
He whipped her hard and fast, then thrust the handle into her deeply. As he thrust it in and out, Clara felt her grip on control snap. Her body tensed, pushed to the edge, tipped- Damien stopped immediately, pulled the whip from her so forcefully she gasped. He let it drop to the floor with a clatter and grabbed her collar, pulling her head back sharply.
"I told you not to come," he hissed. "I'm saving that for my cock, so I can feel your cunt squeezing around me." He pulled back, positioned himself and then slammed into her. She gasped, body clenching and starting to orgasm. She could feel her inner muscles gripping him tightly, working around him as waves of pleasure crashed over her again and again. He thrust fast and hard, filling her deeply. As he continued fucking her, he drew out her orgasm, making her scream. Then he reached between her legs and stroked her clit. Immediately, another orgasm broke over her and she screamed again, shrieking and crying out until her voice went hoarse. Just when she thought she could handle no more pleasure, he gripped her hips and stilled, pouring himself into her.
They collapsed onto the bed, her pressed into the mattress with him on her back. Once they caught their breath, he rolled off of her and moved up the bed. She started to move up next to him, utterly exhausted- why did orgasms with him always make her so tired?- but he stopped her with a tug on her leash. He pointed over the edge of the bed. She looked down and saw the large black cushion on the floor. Groaning inwardly, she moved off the bed and curled up on the cushion. From where she lay, she could see his hand just over the edge of the bed, her leash coiled in his fist. Staring up at it, she felt herself drift, then fall into sleep.
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