It had been too long for both of them.
A part of Jordan was grateful she’d given him a good reason to take his time and torment her, rather than just taking her fast and rough.
The increasingly sadistic gleam in Jordan’s eyes was not reassuring. Trish quailed inwardly.
Why hadn’t she just mouthed off to him or something? Had she needed to go running and hiding for fun, when a chase would only provoke him more?
Sometimes she didn’t understand the way her mind worked. Trish hadn’t thought this through, but maybe some part of her hadn’t wanted to. More and more, when they were alone, she found herself acting like the little girl Jordan called her—the little girl she denied wanting to be.
But the truth was Trish did want it. She liked to act out and put herself in the position of being his naughty little girl, sometimes. He didn’t get tired of her or ignore her or put her in timeout. No, her punishments always involved one hundred percent of Jordan’s attention and focus. Even when she was really being punished—and right now might be one of those times—he did so in a way that showed he cared enough to put effort into it.
For someone who had gone the majority of life without much individualized care, for whom an entire population of people had proven they wouldn’t put in time or effort, even if she went missing, it was a heady feeling. Maybe that was why Trish kept pushing him, bratting at him, and doing things guaranteed to earn her a punishment: so she could see and feel the absolute proof that he did care and wasn’t tired of her, his naughty, little girl.
That his usual amount of care involved both pain and pleasure was only a bonus.
Trish bit her lip as he picked up one of her ankles and folded her nearly in half to attach the limb to the headboard, along with her wrist. He repeated everything on the other side, leaving her legs spread wide, pussy splayed, and her body vulnerable to his wicked intentions.
“Apparently the last punishment I gave you didn’t stick. Let’s see if I can do better this time.” Jordan heightened her anxiety as he pulled the plug from her now-twitching anus.
“Noooooo,” she moaned the word when he pulled out the evil, stinging, burning plug he’d used the last time Trish hadbeen bad. It didn’t matter that it had been over a month, she hadn’t forgotten how much it had hurt—although she’d put it out of her mind that Jordan even had the toy.
“Naughty little girls get the naughty plug,” he said.
Was it wrong that her pussy clenched and creamed a little more?
Trish squealed with fear and tried to cringe away, despite her bound position, when he pressed the plug to her little, crinkled star without applying lube.
It turned out he didn’t need it. There must have been oil inside the plug, and he’d had it already slicking the surface but hadn’t said so because he’d wanted to see her reaction. The sadistic smile on Jordan’s face as he pushed the plug in only confirmed it.
Trish quivered, waiting for the burning… but, instead, it was cold. Cold and tingling. Jordan pumped it, making her sphincter stretch around the most bulbous part again, and she let out a cry as the movement made the tingling feel more like little needles running over her sensitive flesh. She arched her back, trying to get away from the plug, but he just shoved it back in, hard and fast, and Trish screamed.
“It’s cold!” she whined, twisting against the cuffs on her wrists and ankles in an attempt to bring her legs together, as though that would help.
“You want it warmer, naughty girl?” The chuckle in his voice alerted her to the danger.
“No!” The cold tingling was uncomfortable but not nearly as painful as the burning he’d induced last time.
“Maybe I’ll just help warm up a different part of you, then.”
Trish moaned and wriggled, her hard nipples jiggling on her chest with her squirming, while Jordan went over to pick out an implement to punish her with. He returned with a leatherpaddle, more than large enough to cover both cheeks of her bottom, and she whimpered in anticipation.
Still fully dressed, the paddle held in his hand, Jordan loomed over Trish like a stern specter. Only the anticipation in his eyes gave away that he wasn’t truly angry with her.
He lifted the paddle, and Trish shrieked before it fell at how much she knew it would hurt. Because of her spread position, she couldn’t clench her bottom against the impact, and, when the leather did smack hard against her cheeks, her shriek turned into a full-on yell of pain as both rounded globes began to throb.
The paddle didn’t sting the way his hand or her hairbrush did: the effect of the blow spread out a lot more but ignited a deep ache, and Trish’s cheeks swelled from the impact. Not only that, but the paddle also managed to hit the base of the plug, jolting inside her, the cold needles pricking the insides of her anus all over again with just the tiny amount of shifting.
“Ow!”
Thwap!
Thwap!
Thwap!
Trish screamed and wriggled.
Not only did each blow cover her ass, which had started to feel like someone had set a fire under her skin, but Trish could swear the plug grew with every smack of the paddle against its base. The cold moved deeper inside her, tingling and stabbing. Or maybe, somehow, the paddle was forcing the plug deeper? Either way, the discomfort level had just upped itself substantially.
