Broken Toys Chapter Two

I loved the way Nessa moved, like a lithe cat moving through a jungle— a jungle of my cock twitching in every direction possible in her presence. When she failed to rouse a reaction from my irritating cousin Ras, I knew she needed to be brought to heel. Nessa had been expressly told to be appealing before we even left for the wedding. Fact of the matter is that she failed.
Failure requires correction.

We made our way to the house, and I couldn’t wait to take her to the Chamber. Choices… how to express my anger in poetic pain? A spanking? Tactile play, maybe use the spiked roller nicknamed Hedgehog, on her pussy— and if she was a good wife, her panties will be soaking wet from our play in the car earlier. My steps quickened as my excitement rose.

Perhaps I could lay blame for her seemingly-reticent steps due to the high heels she wore, then again, perhaps she could scent my elation and knew what I had in store for her.

Kahan held the front door open to us,which pleased me despite giving him the night off. That he put in extra effort to please me earned him bonus points and with a curt nod, we breezed by him as I led Nessa to the Chamber.

My inner sanctum where I held all control, designed with my tastes in mind. A Theocracy, if you will, where the role of God is in my hands. A set of heavy mahogany double doors heralded the entrance; bound in iron with polished brass studs, kept shut by wrought iron handles. It looked like a gateway to a dungeon, and it was indeed. I pulled out the key to the wrought iron lock, a key I kept on my person at all times. Black as the night and faintly menacing in size, the key slid silently into the lock. I kept one arm wrapped around my wife while I unlocked the doors. Motion-activated lights kicked on as soon as the doors swung open. Walls of burgundy held various restraints and my larger toys. A mahogany armoir held a sizable toy collection and various ointments to stimulate or numb the skin. Above us, glittering like stars were the eye-bolts, for doing suspension and hanging the sex swing. All together, a formidable room of untold delights. Well, at least for me.

The centerpiece, an oak Saint Andrew’s cross held sentry on a dais. Black leather furniture seemed strewn with a careless hand throughout the large room— an ottoman, a wide chaise lounge, a wingback chair. One corner was constructed of red brick, enveloping about twenty-five square feet of floor space. The brick walls held a secret. Married to this woman for eight months, and I resisted the persistent urge to introduce her to it’s mechanics. Tonight, I give into that urge.

Based off an ancient Roman technology used for heating bathhouses, with a turn of a temperature knob and a push of a button from the control panel by the door I activated the quickly-warming bricks. Nessa stood in the room’s center, in front of the cross, and I admired how it framed her. Large eyes of indigo looked at me, and I marveled at the depth of emotion they held. Quickly, she cast her gaze down as a proper submissive should.

I love this woman. From the top of her dark brown crown to the bottom of her dainty feet, every nerve will sing out tonight in praise of me, I promise you. “Remove your panties.” My voice took on a menacing tone, my Dominant tone used to invoke a scene.

Her reply was a perfect, “Yes, Sir. At once, Sir.” And good was her word, for she promptly shimmied out of her nude-colored lace underwear and held them in her outstretched and cupped hands.

Her immediate compliance always stoked my fires. Name of the game was to keep issuing orders that finally pushed her to the point of resistance. I snatched the panties and held them to my nose, seeking that special musk she only produced when aroused. The lump of lacy material in my hand lacked the scent and anger replaced pleasure in my blood. “On your knees.”

“Yes, Sir.” The blue gown she wore pooled out around her as she sank down to cock-height. I stood before her, fists resting on my hips. I loved the feeling this particular stance gave me. Power: the most intoxicating aphrodisiac I know.

I contemplated items and her reaction while giving her a Theocratic Inquisition. “You disobeyed me tonight. Did you really cum in the car on the way to the wedding?”

A brief moment of silence before she confessed, “No, Sir.”

“And you didn’t like being the most beautiful woman there, did you?”

Again, silence before an answer emerged, this time quieter than before. “No, Sir.”

“Tell me how you really feel about the dress I had made for you. I’m dying to know.”

She bit her lip, which lit a fire of longing in my groin, before she answered in a very hesitant voice, “I liked the one I chose better because I’m not a fan of clothing that looks painted on because it’s so tight. I’m not fond of the color red, although the shade you chose is very flattering to my completion.”

I smirked at her diplomatic answer, pleased that she wanted to placate me. Made me feel good that she thought it best to be utterly submissive tonight. Still, I continued with my line of questioning. “Do you like disobeying me?”

This time, her voice cracked a bit as she gave her reply. “Not at all, Sir.” For a brief moment, she looked up at me, eyes wide and questioning, before returning her attention to the floor where it properly belonged.

After a long moment of silence designed to disquiet her mind at what I could potentially be planning, I ordered, “Open your mouth.”

When she did, I stuffed her panties into her cock-sucking hole and tapped her jaw to indicate I wanted her mouth shut. If she wouldn’t get them wet in the car, she’ll get them wet with her saliva. The thought pleased me. “Stand up.” Oh, I’m sure she could hear impatience ring through my voice. It took focus for me to take the giddy edge off, before instructing her, “Get naked. Hands behind back.”

I poured over the night, mulling on the things she did or said which angered me as she removed the atrocious gown she wore, recalling the moment which especially pissed me off. I knew the means of torment I to employ. From the armoir, I removed a twelve foot length of nylon rope, a pair of handcuffs, a spreader bar, and bandage scissors. In nude perfection with hands grasping elbows behind her, I found my cock twitching at the thought of Strappado. Wide leather handcuffs wrapped around her wrists, Nessa’s arms now straightened. “Kneel.” She dropped to her knees. As she awaited my next command in front of the St Andrew’s Cross, I dragged the large black leather ottoman over to the bricked area, stood on it and threaded one end of the rope through an eye bolt in the center of the ceiling over my head. The other end, I planned to tie to the steel ring connecting the leather shackles encircling my subservient wife’s wrists. The ottoman returned to it’s original placement, I began entering my Dominant mindset fully.

She brought this upon herself by rejecting the dress and jewels. How many women would give their self esteem over to me for such delights? But therein lay the attraction of my darling wife, her willingness to deny me my wants. Never before had any woman denied me. Well, I take that back. One woman did that regularly when I was fourteen, and now she’s a business partner. Margo Ivanov. As the intoxicating thought of the Russian widow overwhelmed me, it reminded me that not all thought so highly of her. Being that she was our neighbor growing up, I extended a verbal invitation to Ras’ wedding, and she barely got in the door before being banned for merely being herself. But then Nessa asked me about her position in my life, and that she dared challenge me, especially publicly, fueled my sadistic streak. “Remove your gag.”

Nessa quickly removed the wadded panties, all the while with a downcast gaze. Her compliance equated to perfection.

“Why did you call me out about Margot? She’s the past. You are my present and future. Surely you weren’t jealous?” I knew she wasn’t jealous, but perhaps it would stoke her ego to think I thought her capable of such an emotion directed toward me.

Like a perfect wife, she couldn’t look me in the eye. “Not jealous, Sir. Just curious because you never mentioned her, Sir.”

There was a reason for that, a reason why Margot stayed off to the side in my life. She was my first love, the woman who helped me become the man I am today. With her guidance, she pointed me in productive directions she intuitively seemed to know I’d flourish. And I did. For her help back then, I give her my help now, not that she needs it much. Margot was and still is important to me for the discipline she taught me long ago.

By now, the bricks were warm from the steam vents running through the centers, warm enough that three feet away from where the brick floor ended, I could feel the heat wafting my way and upward. “Gag yourself again. If you’re a good girl, we won’t use predicament restraints. But you’ll have to behave with perfect decorum. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders.

“Arise.” I couldn’t resist eyefucking the woman. No more than five foot seven, her frame could be considered willowy if one were in a poetic mood. But I wasn’t and all I could think was that she was slender enough I could lift to fuck without trying too hard, but that’s not on the menu for tonight. “With your fingers, tell me what you want. One finger for impact play, two fingers for electro play.”

Both of those were at the bottom of things she liked.

She held up one finger behind her, and I smiled. Not only did she tell me her preference, but I got a beautiful view of her ass. I felt mighty, like God. Like God on PCP and single malt scotch, a heady blend of I Can Do Anything And She’ll Let Me.

“Same means of communication. One, flogger. Two, paddle. Three, crop. Four, cane. I leave the choice to you.”

After a moments hesitation, she held up two fingers. I really hoped she would have chosen the cane. I wanted to make weals appear on her flawless skin, a pattern marking her mine.

From a drawer in the armoir, I removed an oak paddle. Shaped like a hand, it was bigger than my own and she never experienced its delights.

I looked to the tableau before me, of my sweet wife on her knees, hands behind the curve of her ass, eyes on the ground. Perfection. I returned to her side, and began winding the loose end of the nylon rope around her arms, starting with threading a length suitable for winding up her arms, to above her elbows. With the rope hanging above us, when I pulled on the loose end and could bring Nessa’s arms up at an uncomfortable angle. I didn’t plan on using it much, knowing firsthand how much it hurts. But a little pain could bring out the sweetness in life. Showing her the paddle, I explained, “You will get ten lashes. Three for shitting on the dress and rubies I chose for you and then blaming me for your friend’s problem, three for lying to me about cumming in the car, three for questioning me about things you really don’t need to know about, and one because I am your husband, and your better. Without me, you have nothing, are nothing. You may have put yourself through college by your own ambition, but what have you done with yourself? You got married to me. That’s what you did. You got married and gave up that little ambition of yours. No wife of mine will work— other than supervise a charity.” I paused and then asked, “Do you remember your safe word?”

Nessa nodded vigorously, and I wondered if I could push her to the point she’d voice the phrase I informed her to use to stop a scene.

“Good. Let’s begin. Stand up.” As she struggled to get to her feet, off balance by the binding, I pulled the slack out of the rope, careful not to pull on the cuffs. I needed her standing before getting my spanking on. Finally, she found her ground and I noted a sheen of sweat forming on her skin from the warm bricks as I fastened the spreader bar between her ankles. I was warm, but my excitement seemed to dull the sensation as my focus settled on what would happen when the paddle smacked wet skin. Made it hurt more, and my enthusiasm needed banking. “I know you’re gagged, but call out the numbers.”

She nodded.

Excellent.

I held the twenty-ounce paddle and looked at her ass. But before I began her correction, I placed a series of kisses along her shoulder, brushing her long tresses aside to nip on her nape. As soon as I backed away, I let the paddle go. Not too hard, not yet.

“’UN!” Her word twisted by the panties in her lying mouth, I let another strike land on her left ass cheek, slightly harder this time.

“’Tur!” I looked at her face, scrunched from the pain. She thought that hurt? Harder.

“’Ree!” Her eyes were shut in painful pleasure, I could tell she loved it because her nipples got hard. But still, it wasn’t enough. HARDER.

“’Or!” Bright red hands appeared on her ass, marking her as mine. If I place another strike upon the one I just laid, the scarlet would darken to black and blue. She needed one good, long term reminder who owns that ass.

“’Ive!” Now I stopped being nice. My anger focused into letting Nessa know she is not to question me. Again, I swung harder, but aimed it at her other ass cheek, right on the crease leading into her upper thigh.

She didn’t count the strike, and so I pulled on the rope I held in my paddle-free hand. A river of tears poured from her red-rimmed eyes.

“What number are we at?” I queried, but she didn’t reply as requested. Nessa spat out the panties and cried out in ragged breaths, “I submit, my husband and lord! I submit!”

Fuck. Safe worded before I got around to fucking her against the wall.

Deep breath. I let go the rope, and pulled the scissors from my pants pocket, slicing away the rope holding her arms. They fell to the floor as I unlatched the leather cuffs and said with all the love in my heart, “I forgive you, Nessa. You’re the perfect woman for me.” With that out of my lips, I felt her go lax in my arms as the magnitude of my adoration overwhelmed her into unconsciousness.

How I love this woman.