Free The House of Pain by Tara Crescent Page B

strong arms, to the force of the blows raining down on my ass.
    “Repeat after me.” His voice is firm, unyielding now. “The rules are what we make them.”
    My voice is small. “The rules are what we make them.”
    “Excellent.” He stops spanking me for a minute, strokes my ass, soothing the heated cheeks. I part my legs slightly in invitation. I am so wet. So turned on.
    “Nope. Not yet. First, your punishment,” Doug says. I can hear the arousal in his voice. His voice is slightly hoarser, slightly rougher. I smile into the mattress, inwardly pleased at the effect I’m having on him. I wriggle a little, deliberately grinding my hips against his dick.
    “Hold still, Sara,” Doug warns me. I hear the amusement in his voice. My ploy is transparent. I redden slightly, embarrassed by how easily he’s read me and I hold still.
    He starts spanking me again. In between the spanks, he’s talking to me. “I’m not interested in making love to a perfectly trained doll, Sara. I want a real, live woman in my dungeon and in my bed. Someone who is intelligent, who brings something of herself in the dungeon, someone I can respect and laugh with.”
    Interspersed with this speech are hard spanks. I want to hold still and to listen to what he’s saying, but the blows are raining down and I’m whimpering in pain.
    “Repeat after me. Doug does not want a perfectly trained doll.” His voice is lazy. He’s stroking me with his fingernails, and the slight edge of them against my throbbing ass sends little lightning bolts of electricity running through me.
    “Doug does not want a perfectly trained doll.” I repeat dutifully. Can it be true though? I wonder inwardly. I hear what he’s saying, but I’m not sure I believe it.
    He resumes my spanking. I’m moaning now, whimpering and writhing over him. Each stroke is painful; each stroke makes me flinch. The pain flows through me but I can’t disassociate from it the way I did at the House of Pain. Here, the immediacy of Doug’s body against mine keeps me firmly in the moment, where I can feel every blow.
    “Repeat after me again. Any rule is negotiated by both of us, with full consent from both of us.”
    “Any rule is negotiated by both of us, with full consent from both of us.” My voice is small. This is a very effective lesson, one I won’t be forgetting in a hurry.
    His hands are stroking my ass again. My flesh is throbbing and painful. But he soothes me expertly, he has very subtly pulled me closer. The moment feels different. There’s electricity in the air and there’s intimacy in the way he’s stroking me.
    “I’m not interested in any submission of yours that lessens you,” he says quietly. “I’m not interested in objectifying you, in humiliating you. You are always more than a naked, willing body. You are a person, with wants and needs, hopes and fears.” His hands are still stroking me. I remain very still and I listen to him. There’s quiet certainty to his tone. I remember my first impression of Doug. This is someone who knows what he wants.
    And as I listen to him articulate what he wants, pressed down on him, ass inflamed and throbbing, I am suddenly very afraid. Doug will not be content with being kept within a tidy little box. Doug will want everything I have to give and more.
    He’s still talking. “Who you are outside the dungeon matters. The more you are outside of this room, the greater the gift of your submission in this room. Your strength is the gift.”
    Three final, hard spanks. Unexpected blows. I almost arch off his lap as my body flails against the impact of his blows. Tears are cascading down my cheeks, though I’m not sure if I’m crying from the pain of the spanking, or the intensity of the emotional storm he’s set off inside me. He pulls me into his arms, I feel his firm chest against me. I bury my face in his shoulder, still sniffing.
    He provides silent comfort as the churning emotions subside. I cry and he