The Dollhouse by Stacia Stone

to open underneath me and swallow me whole, but I also waited for the crack of the whip with something more than fear. I wanted the pain of it.
    The whip stroked gently down the surface of my back like a lover’s caress. I closed my eyes as an uncontrollable tremor overtook me, fear and anticipation mingling in a way that caused a physical reaction.
    “I want you to count.”
    The piercing whistle of the whip cutting through the air hit my ears almost at the same moment as a flash of pain streaked across my back.
    I screamed. The pain was hotter and deeper than anything I had felt when he used his hand or a belt. An answering heat bloomed between my legs.
    “Count.” His voice was stern.
    “One!” I cried. The word came in a barely audible, croaking gasp.
    A second blow came down as hard as the first, wrapping around my right thigh which immediately blossomed in sharp pain. The whip left an aching soreness that I knew would last for days after this was done.
    “Two!”
    The whip fell on the top of my other leg. The pain was greater than I had imagined it to be, but that didn’t stop the shiver of pleasure that surged through the center of me.
    “Three!”
    This strike came full across my buttocks. The thin fabric of my panties did nothing to soften the force of the impact. I sobbed, tears wetting the wood that pressed into my face.
    “Four!”
    The blows halted and the room was silent save for the harshness of his breathing. I sensed the movement before he appeared at my side. One of his hands slid up my thigh and underneath the fabric of my panties. A searching finger slipped between my folds and gently teased the tight ball of my clitoris. A wave of pleasure rode over me and I shuddered against him.
    His lips pressed against my ear. “How very wet you are.”
    I whimpered, unable to form a logical thought, much less words to speak.
    “There’s no need to count for the rest.”
    The rest!? It was my last thought before the blows began to rain down, harder and faster than they had before. It was more pain than I had ever experienced before, either from his hand or anyone else’s.
    The whip was everywhere at once until the entirety of my backside felt like it was on fire. A stray braid struck between my legs, barely grazing my aching center, and the world exploded around me.
    My vision swam before my eyes as the room receded into a blur. It was as if I was outside of my own body as everything – the pain and the pleasure – faded into nothingness. I felt myself sag against the cross, only the restraints binding my wrists and ankles kept me upright.
    Distantly, I realized that the blows had ceased. Air moved as he came up behind me. I moaned when the fabric of his suit jacket brushed against the aching skin of my back.
    His hands stroked gently over my sides where the skin had not been touched by the whip. He lips pressed against my hair before moving down to my ear.
    “I’m very pleased,” he murmured, the sound just loud enough for me to hear. “Would you like to choose a reward?”
    I nodded weakly and my voice came in a croaking whisper. “Yes, sir.”
    His hand moved over my back, drawing a moan from me. “Tell me what you want.”
    “I want you to kiss me.” My answer was immediate and without hesitation. I craned my neck so I could see his face – a face so beautiful that it nearly broke my heart. “And I want you to fuck me, sir.”
    I had lost my virginity at fifteen, but I had never used that word before meeting him. It felt sharp and satisfying against my tongue.
    The tip of his tongue touched the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “Pick one.”
    “Please kiss me, sir.”
    It didn’t matter that I was nearly naked and bound to a post, surrounded by people. The entire world existed solely of him and the feel of him against my skin.
    His mouth caught mine in a kiss that was deep and all-consuming. The tongue that plundered my mouth met no resistance and I sucked on it greedily. He pulled