Trapped Between Two Alphas (Katerina)
Chapter 75

(Annabel POV)

Something was pressing at my ass hole. It felt oily, lubricated perhaps, and not especially large. I tried to cooperate, to relax and permit Its entrance, again as if I had a choice. I was also fervently praying that it wasn't an enema. That was just really not my cup of tea, or coffee, as the case may be. As it made its way deeper and deeper, I realized it was also gaining in girth, stretching me, uncomfortably, at first, and then painfully. I realized I was gasping and then grunting. Kaden's hand pressed down on the small of my back, so maybe I was squirming, too. When I didn't think I could possibly take any more, the stretching suddenly stopped, the girth of what I now presumed to be a butt plug eased. Although still stretched and filled impossibly full, the smaller circumference at my sphincter it seemed like such a reprieve as to suddenly feel pleasurable. I gasped in relief. The relief was short-lived though as the cord that had been left to dangle between my legs was suddenly drawn up between my legs. He ran it between my pussy lips and it seemed like there were small knots in the vicinity of my clit and one large knot perfectly positioned to fill my entryway. The cord then made some sort of connection to the butt plug which required that it be wiggled around to my consternation. Then the cord was being fastened to the belt thingy at my back. Once again, my bound arms were raised to get them out of the way. I moaned quietly as pain shot through my shoulders. The cord was pulled tight, spreading my pussy lips wide and pushing the butt plug even deeper inside.

I was abruptly drug away from the table and pushed to my knees. Then his cock was slapping against my face, demanding entry. I opened my mouth, trying to replace him with my tongue. He laced his fingers in my hair, gripping tightly, then pushed as deep as my throat would allow. I struggled to pleasure him with my tongue. I didn't like not being able to use my hands, but I was determined to do the best I could, maybe even make him forget about punishing me. He pumped in and out, setting a rhythm even as I was replaceing a rhythm with my tongue, when suddenly the, Whatever-they-were, he had put in my vagina came to life, vibrating ferociously, moving and bumping about. It's not easy to gasp when a cock is filling your mouth. And quite frankly, I think he was taking a pretty damn big chance that I could control my reactions and not bite down, because it was one of the most intense sensations I have ever had.

As if he could feel the vibrations all the way up through my mouth, he started pumping faster, and just a moment later, he was shooting cum down my throat. The vibrations in my vagina stopped as suddenly as they had started. I was left with the peculiar feeling that, regardless of the intensity of the vibrations, they would not suffice to bring me to orgasm, almost as if the device was designed to keep me on edge, maybe forever. In the same way, the butt plug was giving me a pleasurable sense of fullness, but nothing that could be called orgasmic. I began to have a really bad feeling about what my punishment might turn out to be.

Again, I was left alone, in silence, blindfolded, kneeling on the carpet. I was trying to catch my breath; as if I was the one privileged enough to cum. Shortly, I heard the snick of the deadbolt, then the door opening. I hissed in the general direction of where I thought he might be, based on the firm grip on my arm.

The damn foreign objects in my body were tormenting me with a passive/aggressive version of pleasure/over-stimulation.

I was utterly owned by the cord rubbing on my clit, the butt plug in my ass and the things in my vagina rolling about humming to themselves. My whole existence had been narrowed down to ass, belly and clit. And of course, he knew that. The vibrations stopped. We paused and I heard a key in a door. The door opened, then closed. A moment later, I heard another key in another door. It, too, opened and closed. I was dumped rather unceremoniously onto a floor that felt to be carpeted with a shag rug. I was trying to roll over off of my back, because, well, laying on your back while your hands are tied behind is extremely uncomfortable.

One of my knees was pulled aside and a slap was applied to my pussy lips. "This is mine," he growled. "Keep your hands off it." He shoved my knee back down so that I was lying on my side, then I felt him untying my clothes from my wrists. The blood rushed back in a most painful fashion. Despite the protest of my shoulders, and not being sure if I was allowed to move, I pulled my hands in front of me and tried to rub life back into them. I desperately wanted to pull the blindfold off and see where I was, but even I wasn't stupid enough to push him that far. What I wanted even more desperately, though, was to come. And I was terrified that I just might be stupid enough to help myself along, since he seemed to have disappeared again. That was, if I could ever get any feeling back in my hands. I had the distinct impression that he was watching and waiting for me to do just that. I curled up into a ball to relieve some of the tension on the cord looping its way through my slit and I hugged my knees to keep my hands busy and out of trouble. Then I waited.

It's an odd fact that your sense of time gets really messed up when you are blindfolded. I really had no idea how long it had been when the whatever they were inside me roared back to life. But it couldn't have been more than a minute later that the butt plug took to vibrating, too. In fact, pretty much all of me was vibrating when his voice came softly to my ear. "Don't come, baby. I haven't given you permission." I'm pretty sure I sobbed, because now that the butt plug was vibrating, those wonderful pulsations were travelling right down the length of that cord to my clit.

I hugged my knees tighter and rolled back and forth on the floor. Then I begged.

"Please, sir. Please, may I come?"

"What was that, kitten?"

"Pleeeaaase," I wailed. "Please let me come."

"No, I don't think so," he said, and suddenly the vibrations ceased.

I was sobbing softly. Now I no longer felt like I was in imminent danger of climaxing, but neither had I received any relief. The aching in both my pussy and my ass was intense beyond belief. How long would he keep this up? It felt like he was waiting for something, but what? Then a light went on.

"I'm sorry, daddy." I said, trying to speak between sobs. I had rolled onto my side, still hugging my knees.

There was a long pause, then from somewhere behind me, he said, "Sorry for what?"

I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. My first impulse was to say sorry for disobeying, but he'd made it clear that he actually liked it when I disobeyed or resisted his will. He liked having an excuse for punishing me. And frankly, I was beginning to suspect that some perverse part of my psyche liked being punished, or the eventual earth-shattering sex that it lead to, anyway.

"I'm sorry that I used what was yours," I whispered. A smack landed on my rear, though not as hard as he was capable of by any means. "Daddy," I added with a squeak.

"And will you do it again?"

"No, daddy." I shook my head for emphasis.

"And will you talk when you have not been given permission?"

I cringed. "Probably, daddy."

There was a long pause, but no more blows fell on my throbbing behind. "And will you move when I have told you to be still?"

I shuddered. "Probably, daddy."

"And will you come before I give you permission?"

I was trembling now. "Probably, daddy." I said it so softly I could hardly even hear myself.

I felt his hands on me, pulling my arms from where they still hugged my knees to my chest. He was sitting cross-legged behind me. He rolled me up into his lap and kissed my forehead, then he sighed. "Thank you for your honesty, baby. You are not a very good sub, you know?"

"I've tried, Kaden, but it's so hard." I actually hiccupped.

"Shhh. If it weren't hard, it would not be so rewarding." I didn't know what he meant by that, but then his hand was at my waist and the cord between my legs fell away, even as the butt plug and the whatever they were roared to life. I gasped, anticipating more torture, but then his fingers were on my clit and he was whispering in my ear. "You may come now baby." I started coming before he even finished the sentence. If he hadn't been holding me so tight, they probably would have had to peel me off the ceiling.

After what seemed like forever, he stood and walked over to me, then circled me slowly, as if he was studying me. Then he stepped away to the cabinet, which was now at my back. I heard him open the cupboard doors. "Come here," he commanded. I stood slowly and walked over to where he waited, keeping my eyes glued to the shaggy rug that my feet sank into. He reached over and raised my chin so

that I was looking into the cabinet. I went -- as the novels like to say -- cold. I didn't even know the names of most of the implements of torture that hung within and on the insides of the cupboard doors themselves. Canes, whips, floggers, paddles, crops. "Choose," he ordered. A tremor went through me, and he leaned in close. "Choose or I will," he whispered seductively in my ear. I sucked in a breath and stepped closer to the cabinet. I touched some of the items, shivering to imagine what they would feel like. I finally handed him what I thought was a flogger. It had many thin strips, but they seemed soft, like felt or suede.

"A very good choice," he said, and I felt an inexplicable pleasure at his words. He took my arm and led me over to the sawhorse thing. He swung out small padded braces from underneath the body of the contraption. "Your knees go here. Climb on." I still wasn't sure exactly what position I was supposed to take, but his palm between my shoulders pushing me down to a supine position on the padded top pretty much answered that question. He fussed around, adjusting the knee pads, then pulling me back so that my ass hung partially off of the end. I grasped the front legs of the apparatus with my hands as he ran his hand over my hair and leaned close to my ear. "How many times did you come without my permission?"

"Four," I answered, desperately hoping that that meant four strikes of the flogger. Silly me.

"Yes, and four times twenty is eighty. Isn't that right, kitten?"

I was gasping and he hadn't even struck me yet, but I didn't dare not answer. "Yes, daddy."

"Now, my darling, it is very important that you do not move. Can you do that?"

"No, daddy. I'm sorry. I don't think I can stay still." I was begging and I wasn't even sure for what. But then he answered me.

"Do you want me to bind you?"

I actually said it. "Please, daddy Please bind me."

He moved back to the chest and opened one of the drawers, pulling out short segments of rope. He then proceeded to tie my wrists to rings embedded in the legs of the sawhorse. I hadn't noticed them before in the dim light, but now, being so much closer, I realized there were a number of such rings, to accommodate different positions, I supposed. He did the same with my knees, then adjusted the padded rests downward so that I was pulled even tighter against the padded top. Finally, he pulled a strap from beneath the padded crossbar and pulled it over the small of my back, cinching it tight so that my ass was thrus even higher. "How is that?" he asked.

"Thank you," I replied. Incongruously, he had made me feel safe. I knew I couldn't screw up and earn even more punishment. At least until he ordered me to count.

The first slap of the flogger fell on my back, and the soft sound of the contact was more intense than the pain. I had a flash of confidence. I could get through this. I could make him proud of me. More blows fell on the backs of my thighs, on my calves, even on the soles of my feet. He swept my hair off my back and the lashes fell from my neck to my ass and back again. I dutifully counted. At some point around thirty, realized that my skin was becoming highly sensitized. The blows were not falling any harder, but the contact was progressively becoming more intense. I knew, had I not been tightly bound, I never would have been able to be still. At fifty, it was becoming hard to keep count. The intensity, more overwhelming than pain would have been, was flooding my mind, demanding my entire attention.

Somehow, I made it to eighty. I was drenched in sweat, and gasping for breath. He was there, kissing my cheek and my forehead. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, and I literally felt a glow from his praise. A moment later, he was squirting some liquid all down my back and legs. The cold of the liquid against my superheated skin was like a burning, but then his hands were there, gently rubbing it in, cooling me down, soothing me. Still, he didn't release my bindings. And the burning had moved from my skin to my pussy. I needed him, wanted him to fuck me so bad, but I bit my lip and said nothing. No more punishment today. Anyway, it didn't matter. He knew what I needed, and when he had completely rubbed the soothing liquid into my skin, he was there, slowly pressing inside me. He even took care to grip my hips from underneath where the flogger hadn't reached. He started slow and gradually increased in speed, drawing his pleasure out and giving me time to change my focus from the flogging to the fucking. We came together, as if he had orchestrated it. Maybe he had.

Panting, he props himself up on his elbows and assesses my tousled hair. His fingers gently smooth over the skin of my jaw.

I catch his hand, draw his fingers to my mouth. My breath is hot against his digits.

'You're insatiable,' he breathes.

'Only when I'm around you,' I respond, taking his finger deep into my mouth. Looking at him from below my lashes, in an affected, coy manner, I watch his eyes drift shut.

As he pushes another finger into my greedy mouth, he moves his own lips to my breast. At first, his touch is soft and teasing, light kisses that give way to a deeper sensation. He bites and sucks until my nipples are diamonds. My cunt is overflowing; my body desperate to be fucked again.

He withdraws his hand from my mouth, wiping his fingers on my tits. Playfully, with a devilish smile dancing across his beautiful jaw-line, he flicks my nipple, watches how my body convulses in response. His hand drifts lower, snaking over my abdomen, caressing my thighs. He is close enough to my dripping pussy to recognise my burning desire. He lingers long enough to tempt me to grind against him in the futile hopes of bringing myself to orgasm.

A low chuckle informs me that he is well aware of the cruelty of his tortuous behaviour. I pout and he moves his hand further away. Pinned beneath his strong body, I am unable to replace any means of release. I reach for his cock which was hard again and stroke it gently, a poor caricature of his expert dominance. I am too keen; too desperate to please.

Then, blissfully, one finger probes the soaking wetness between my legs. It is enough to fill the aching void but not enough to make me climax and I moan pitifully.

Slowly, he thrusts another finger inside of me, building with speed and intensity until the tempo of his ministrations reaches a crescendo.

I kiss him frantically, lost in passion.

He moves over me. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist and offer my body to him.

There's something delightful about the feel of a cock sliding into a freshly fucked hole, a familiarity and sense of ease that is sharply contrasted by wanton desire. Consumed by a burning passion, fingers grasping greedily, desperate for another orgasm. We are blinded by passion.

We writhe together. His mouth encompasses mine. His fingers knot into my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my neck. He toys with me, nibbling and kissing the exposed skin - a symphony of delight that leaves me enraptured. I claw at his back as a tsunami rages inside of me. My cunt tightens around him, a dying star. The sensation is intense. Akin to pain. And, yet, we cannot stop, drawn together, star- crossed, stealing the moment as we climaxed together once again and fell asleep.