No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords) (17 page)

It took him a while to get the next ring in, and her muscles stretched and burned until she begged him to give her time, and to
please
go back to a smaller one, but he didn’t relent.

“You’re going to take this one, and you’re going to wear it a while. Fighting me only makes it rougher on yourself. Accept it, Samantha. Let me spread you open and prepare you for my cock. Take it.”

“It burns, Sir! God, it feels as if it’s going to split me open!”

He held it in place without pressing in any farther as he said, “It isn’t. I know your body; I know what your asshole looks like when it’s truly stretched too far, and we’re not there. Relax and accept it. Stop
fighting
me.”

“I’m sorry! I don’t think I’m fighting you. It
hurts
, Master!”

“Blow out as hard as you can, and keep blowing until I tell you to stop.”

She breathed in and then blew out, and kept blowing, and then screamed and yelped as he pressed the stretching ring in until it seated.

“Fuck! Oh, Shit! It hurts, Master! I can’t!”

“Too bad for you, but you are, and you will. I decide when it comes out, not you.”

“Which one is this? Is it the largest?”

“I don’t intend to tell you which it is. You’ll take what I decide you’ll take. Do we need a reminder of who’s in charge, Darlin’?”

“No,
Master
. I think I’m getting that
now
, aren’t I?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d screwed up, and the look on his face verified it.

He began untying her, and she kept her mouth shut.

He blindfolded her, which was odd for punishment, but again, she thought it best to be quiet.

It didn’t take long for him to bend her over something a little higher than her knees, probably the lowest spanking bench, but he rested her elbows on it while she was standing. He bound her forearms to it so she couldn’t raise up, and put a wide strap around her waist but didn’t pull it tight.

She gasped as the stretching ring came out and something else went in, and it took her a few seconds to realize it was the damned anal hook.

The line attached to it went taut until she was forced to tiptoes, and then the wide strap around her waist was snugged until her back arched sharply downward.

“You’d already earned yourself five strokes of the rattan, so let’s get those over with before we begin the consequences for your mouth.”

Sam yelped for the first three cuts, and screamed at the next two. This wasn’t even
close
to the intensity of the stainless, and she wasn’t sure she’d even bruise, but it still fucking
hurt
.

“I’m so sorry, Master. I spoke out of turn, and it was wrong.”

“You said you wanted our old rules, and you just pretty much
begged
me to bring you back into line.”

“I’m sorry! Please…
shit
, Master. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you what to do. Just...” She stopped talking, as she’d already apologized too many times.

“How is your shoulder?”

Tempting as it was to lie, she shook her head and told the truth. “It’s fine, Sir. The position doesn’t torque it, or pull it.”

Her legs and ass couldn’t say the same, but he hadn’t asked about those.

* * * *

Ethan really didn’t want to do this. His erection had flagged and he wanted nothing more than to let her up and hold her, but she’d pretty much demanded he punish her. Shit,
who
was in charge? Because it seemed to him, she’d forced his hand until he had no choice.

This was their dynamic, though. How could he admit it wasn’t him anymore?

He sighed and stepped to her side. “I’m not putting a number on it. I intend to cane you until I think you’ve had enough. This is punishment. No words, but you can make all the noise you want.”

The hook stretched her ass open when she came down from her tiptoes, and he knew she’d have to go up and down once he began caning her.

He’d stick with this cane, but she was going to get enough of it she’d know he meant business.

He focused on her ass, took in her coloring and muscle tone, and swung the first strike.

She yelped and screamed, and then lifted her right foot to try to relieve the pain from the cane, and howled as the hook held her up and centered while her body tried to move her down and to the left.

He counted to five in his head and delivered the next stroke a half-inch below the first. Counted to five again, and delivered the next another half-inch lower.

Her coloring faded as he reached the middle of her thigh, and he gave her a good thirty seconds to get on top of the pain.

When he began again, he started at the top of her ass once more but struck at an angle so he was over multiple previous strikes, but didn’t layer them directly over the top of the entire length. This time he moved an inch lower with each strike, and when he reached the lowest he should go, he’d made it to thirty strokes.

Sam was frantic with pain, but he removed the anal hook and replaced it with the stretching ring he’d just removed.

He fastened her bondage collar and ran a rope though the front before attaching her wrist cuffs, which allowed her to touch from her forehead to the bottom of her rib cage, but she couldn’t reach her ass.

She passively allowed him to walk her to the corner, still blindfolded, though she gave a slight moan of protest when her shoulders touched both walls and she realized where she was.

“You’ll stand in the corner like the naughty girl you apparently want to be until I get our mess cleaned up.”

Cleanup wasn’t too bad, as he only needed to throw the cheap tablecloths away and store the wax items in their own area. Everything was clean and put away within fifteen minutes.

However, he wasn’t ready to give her the aftercare she needed, and still didn’t have a hard-on.

He put the noise cancelling headphones on Sam, piped music into them, dropped to the floor, and alternated one-armed push-ups until he could barely breathe.

Gasping for air, he sat and watched her. She’d cried for a good five minutes when he first put her in the corner, but now she just stood in place, barely fidgeting. He wished he could have a good cry, maybe let some of what was inside of him out, but…he’d cried the night she was shot, and then a few days later, when he knew exactly how many millimeters he’d come to losing her, and was sure she’d be okay.

Sighing, he stood, dimmed the lights, and walked to her. He hoped he’d given her enough so she’d be reticent to push him into a corner and force him to punish her again.

He touched her good shoulder to try to keep from startling her, but she jumped anyway. He lifted the headphones, and then the blindfold. “Keep your eyes closed. I dimmed the lights, but…”

Patting her bottom, he ordered, “Back your legs up, spread’em, and lean forward so I can get the stretching ring out.”

Her yelp when it came out did nothing for his cock, and he gently grasped her right arm and walked her to the bed without releasing her wrist cuffs from the bondage collar. He sat and leaned against the headboard, and situated her in his lap.

Her body leaned into his, and he rubbed her back idly. “Tell me what’s going through your head, Darlin’.”

“I guess…I guess I didn’t think you’d be so serious about punishment. And, it looks like you’ve ended the scene. I feel awful. We were having fun and connecting, and I fucked it up.”

Her gaze met his and she said, “You didn’t get off. Can I…can I do something to get you off, Sir?”

Instead of answering, he took her wrist cuffs and bondage collar off, and told her to roll over so he could put salve on her ass.

The security guard who processed her into the courthouse gave her a hug once she was through the metal detector.

“Welcome back, honey,” the portly guard said. “I’m sure you know Alverson was hired by the county, right? But we’ll still take care of you.”

Sam had finally talked with the officer who shot Masterson, and discovered he was, indeed, working for the county sheriff’s department now.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam replied. “I’m so glad he feels good about his decision, and he was commended for it instead of getting in trouble.”

She was stopped several more times on the way to the courtroom, and hugged so many times she lost track. She hadn’t worn her sling, but kept one in her purse, and almost stopped in the restroom to put it on, but didn’t want to show weakness in the courtroom.

Sam felt the cane stripes on her ass as she sat on the hard courtroom seat, and thought back to the evening before. As bad as the punishment had been, she should have felt better today but instead felt...icky. She’d wanted him to position himself as her Master again, and be clear she couldn’t get away with disregarding the rules, but something had been off about it and she wasn’t sure what.

She startled as her client fidgeted beside her, and realized he’d been talking to her and she hadn’t been paying attention.

“I’m sorry; my mind has too many details running through it. What were you saying?”

“Are you sure you’re up for this? I’d rather have you than your associate, but he’s done a good job, and if you’re not—”

“No, I’m fine,” she interrupted. “I even went hiking this weekend. Look, there’s no reason to be nervous. The mother’s guilty verdict for drug possession combined with her DUI would be enough to make the judge give you custody. Combine those with the children’s school records while you were living in the home compared to the time since? It’s practically a slam-dunk. Just tell the truth and don’t let her attorney rattle you.”

He shook his head, unconvinced. “It’s killed me to watch them since I moved out. I should’ve at least been awarded joint custody, but he only allowed every other weekend. It’s a bit much to expect I’ll get full custody this time.”

“Your original attorney didn’t push hard enough for joint custody. He didn’t give the judge reason to think you could handle it. We’ve more than done so this time.”

Two hours later Sam’s prediction came to fruition, and she smiled with relief as the judge awarded full custody to her client, who gave her a quick celebratory hug as his ex glared at them.

The look in the woman’s eyes made Sam’s heart turn to stone and slam into her stomach.

She meant to walk out with her client, but another attorney stopped her to tell her how nice it was to see her back in full form, and by the time she was ready to leave the courthouse, she found herself frozen at the door by herself, unable to compel her foot to step over the threshold.

Sam stood just inside the doorway several long minutes, and finally retreated to the restroom before anyone came along and saw her in the midst of a damned panic attack.

She’d been playing around with the idea of learning to shoot a gun for several weeks. Even the best martial arts skills didn’t help when the other person had a firearm, and she thought she might be able to avoid freezing like this if she had her own gun and knew how to handle it.

She didn’t want to pull Ethan off a job, and she thought if perhaps Tyler were home today, he could teach her to shoot.

She called Tyler and Viv’s home phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when Tyler answered.

She covered the basic pleasantries before asking, “You know how you said if I needed anything to let you know?”

“What can I do for you, Sam?”

“I want to learn to shoot a gun.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“No.”

“Have you ever shot one?”

“No.”

“Let’s go somewhere and eat lunch.”

“Will you teach me?”

“Let’s talk first, before I make any promises.”

She didn’t say anything and he said, “Look, teaching someone to shoot is a big responsibility. I’m not saying I won’t, I’m just saying I want to talk to you about it first. Even if I agree, I’ll want to sit and go over some basics before we get started.”

“Okay, but lunch is my treat. Where do you want to meet?”

“How about Sticky Fingers?”

“Perfect. I’m about ten minutes away. I’ll get us a seat.”

Sam found one of the courthouse security officers and admitted she was having a panic attack. He walked her outside and watched until she made it to her office building. She didn’t go in, but circled around back to her car and locked the door as soon as she made it inside. Silly, since she didn’t have bulletproof glass, but she’d already ascertained her fear had no basis in logic.

She was already seated in a booth when Tyler arrived, and as he sat across from her he said, “I called Viv on the way and told her we were meeting for lunch, and why. I assume Ethan knows?”

She shook her head. “I figured I’d tell him this afternoon.”

“I’d rather you told him now.”

Sam looked at the table and said, “I had a panic attack at the courthouse. I don’t want to tell him about it on the phone.”

“You know you can’t carry a gun in the courthouse, right?”

She looked up. “Not even if I get a concealed carry permit?”

“You haven’t done much research, have you.”

It was more acknowledgment than question, but she answered him anyway.

“None, actually.” She focused on the wood grain pattern in the table. “I’ve played around with the idea, but never seriously considered it until I froze today.” She looked up, embarrassed at her admission, but needed to see his face as she told him, “I couldn’t step outside the door. My feet wouldn’t move. I was stuck in place and couldn’t breathe.” She looked down again. “I finally managed to turn around, and I went into the bathroom until I could breathe normally again. Then I called you.”

“Some states allow officers of the court to carry as long as they have the proper certification, but Tennessee only allows bailiffs, police officers there for official business, and the judge, to carry. Even the judge has to have what amounts to bailiff weapons training to be certified.”

She sighed. “I used to be good with throwing knives. I suppose I could take some classes and get back in practice.”

“You can’t have throwing knives in the courthouse either. No weapons.”

“Then how the hell am I supposed to defend myself! The bad guys don’t care about the rules.” The restaurant was loud, but she still kept her voice low enough to keep from drawing attention. “If you don’t allow anyone to legally have a gun, the only people who have them are the people who don’t care about being legal!”

He smiled. “No argument from me. I didn’t get to make the rules.”

She took a breath, found her center, and said, “I still want to learn to shoot. I never want to face a gunman without a way to defend myself again. I may be defenseless on my way back and forth to the courthouse, but I don’t have to be defenseless everywhere else. Someone could just as easily lay in wait for me outside my house, or as I’m running. Even Ethan couldn’t save us if someone drew a gun on us while we were running downtown.”

Tyler smiled. “Somehow, I doubt even a gunman would confront Ethan.” His smile faded and he said. “I’ll talk to you today, and possibly show you some things about guns after we eat, but I want to hear from Ethan this evening or first thing tomorrow, telling me it’s okay for us to continue.”

“You won’t teach me if he doesn’t give the okay?” Sam felt the hackles on her neck rising, almost as if she had fur.

“Would you ask me to teach you if you thought Viv might not be comfortable with it?”

She dropped her shoulders and grimaced at the movement. “No. I guess I didn’t think of it that way. He won’t have a problem with us spending time together, but I honestly don’t know how he’ll feel about my plan to carry a gun.”

“If it’s the gun portion he takes issue with we’ll find a way to work it out. Mainly, I need to know he’s okay with us spending time together.
That
could be a deal breaker.”

“You’re right, but I don’t see him having a problem with it. He knows Viv and I are friends, and you and I would never...” She rolled her eyes instead of finishing the sentence.

Tyler smiled. “And Viv knows we’d never do anything, too. She was glad you felt comfortable enough with me to call and ask.”

He looked at her shoulder and back up to her face. “How’s your strength, and range of motion? How much pain are you in when you use your shoulder?”

“My range of motion sucks, and they haven’t let me begin true strength training yet.”

He held his right arm straight out in front, and wrapped his left hand around his right fist. “Do this, and push forward with your right hand while pulling back with your left.”

She could get into the position, but as soon as she pushed and pulled, it hurt.

“Ouch, that puts direct pressure on my pec.”

“The bad news is you aren’t ready to shoot yet, but the good news is I can still show you different guns, and spend the afternoon teaching you about the various calibers and types.” Her face must have shown her disappointment, because he added, “I’ll let you shoot a twenty-two if you feel you must shoot
something
. It’ll give you the basic idea of what it feels like to fire a weapon, but without the kick.”

She followed him to his house, where he had her wait in the living room. He returned and casually settled two cases on the coffee table.

“My philosophy with guns is if you always keep them loaded, you’ll always treat them as if they’re loaded. Every weapon I’m about to show you is ready to shoot. Before I let you handle it I’ll unload it and show you the empty chamber.”

He pulled a gun from his pocket and another from a holster inside his waistband. She hadn’t known either existed until he pulled them out.

“Did you have both of those while we ate?”

“No, just the one in my holster. The other is one of Viv’s guns, and I grabbed it from the bedroom safe and stuck it in my pocket to bring it in here.”

“Viv shoots?”

“Viv has had a gun pretty much every time the two of you have gone out without me present.”

“No way! She doesn’t wear clothes that would hide a gun!”

Tyler smiled. “This is her LC9. She’s carrying her three-eighty Bodyguard today, and it’s a good bit smaller than this one.”

He opened one of the cases and gave Sam a crash course in revolver versus semi-automatic, single-action versus double-action, and showed her one of every caliber gun from twenty-two to fifty.

He explained how to tell if a revolver was ready to shoot, versus a semi-automatic. She didn’t have the strength to pull the slide back on any of the semi-automatics, but he talked to her about always doing so before she handled one, to personally look into the chamber to be sure a bullet wasn’t ready to fire.

He showed her the empty chamber and handed the gun to her, and she held it, her finger landing on the trigger.

“Never touch the trigger unless you intend to pull it.” He lifted another gun and rested his finger above the trigger guard, straight. “With it resting here it takes a millisecond to put your finger on the trigger as you aim, and there’s no chance you’ll accidentally pull it.”

He talked her through how several kinds of guns worked, and then reached for an envelope inside the case.

“These are the pieces of a bullet, before they’re assembled.” He explained how the gun’s hammer strikes the primer at the back of the round to create the initial spark and light the gunpowder under pressure, which creates the explosion and catapults the bullet out of the casing and down the barrel of the gun.

He lined the bullets up in front of her — a twenty-two, twenty-five, thirty-eight, thirty-eight special, three-eighty, nine millimeter, forty-five, and fifty caliber.

“The caliber tells how big around the bullet is. Or rather, the internal diameter of the barrel, which defines the maximum width of the bullet.” He lifted the second smallest bullet. “A twenty-five is a quarter of an inch across.”

He went through each with a good bit of description and she asked, “Can I see the guns for each caliber, again?”

He showed her a gun for each kind of bullet, again. She understood the bigger the bullet the more stopping power, and was a little surprised to learn the size of the gun told you nothing about the size of the bullet.

“What did Masterson shoot me with?”

Tyler picked up the second largest bullet. “A forty-five jacketed hollow point, designed to shred the inside of a body. It’s why you don’t have an exit wound, and why the inside of your shoulder and chest were almost turned to jello in places. I’ve never heard of anyone staying on their feet when shot with a forty-five.”

Sam ignored his last sentence. She’d stayed on her feet because of her fight training, but she’d barely managed. The lawyer in her had to ask, “Doesn’t that show even more intent to injure? Using a bullet designed for maximum damage?”