Around the Corner by Drea DeMarra, M/f bdsm
A bratty sub thinks she can control a new Dominant partner. She's in for the surprised of her life. 

Copyright 2009 by Drea DeMarra, all rights reserved, Not For Sale
 

“Make me,” she said, not even breaking a smile.  Inwardly, he rolled his eyes.  This could be a long night.

She just kept staring, and so did he.  Figures, she thought, but knew better than to verbalize it. 

Not that long ago, they had both been down at the club.  He went to meet a few friends, and wasn’t even sure if he was going to play.  She came in a little after he arrived.  He saw her, but was caught up in conversation.  He remembered thinking I haven’t seen her down here before.

She had dressed for the occasion.  For some reason, she felt especially bratty that night, and thought it would be best to let anyone with half a brain know it.  She had on a plaid schoolgirl skirt falling to a couple of inches above her knees.  She wore a button down white blouse and her black high heeled platform shoes.  She had white cotton panties and sheer stockings held up by a garter belt.  Just in case anyone missed her point, she was chewing gum.  Her straight black hair was held off of her face with a red leather headband.  She had come in alone.

She hung out in a vanilla looking lounge near the front of the club.  People were socializing and there was a small dance floor.  Then, she heard her man Elvis through the speakers.  In two seconds, she was pumping her hips, just like the lyrics said:

Pump it up, until you can feel it.  Pump it up, when you don't really need it.

She's been a bad girl.  She's like a chemical. Though you try to stop it, she's like a narcotic.

You wanna torture her.  You wanna talk to her.  All the things you bought for her, putting up your temperature.

The base was reverberating so hard, it pierced her.  Her body was in free flow, pulsating and pounding.  She was alone in the room, with Elvis and his Fender Jazzmaster Guitar, rocking out at CBGBs.

When the music stopped, she came to, and saw him staring at her.  She knew her skirt had wrapped up her thighs while she danced, and she figured the garters called to him.  He came over.

“You like Elvis Costello, huh?” he asked, stating the obvious.

“Who doesn’t?” she replied, tilting her head and making an almost comical face.

“Yeah, who doesn’t,” he said, squinting a little, and she couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.  She took in his hazel eyes and light brown hair.  Small creases around his eyes gave him a look of maturity that she was drawn to.

“How old are you?” he asked.  Even though he loved her little Catholic School uniform, he wasn’t into age play.

“I’m legal,” she said, but when he kept staring at her, she added, “I’m 35 – how old are you?”

“I’m old enough to act my age,” was his reply. 

The two of them stood facing each other, and it was clear that neither wanted to walk away.

He broke the silence with a question.  “Would you like to play?”

“Yeah, but not here.  I’m not in the mood for an audience.  Do you have any place private we could go?”

He was a bit surprised.  She could have easily asked around about him, and found out that he had a good reputation in the Scene.  However, she couldn’t have had time. That worried him a little.  But she was cute, and didn’t look like a psycho.  He said, “You could come to my place.”

And she did.   They took a cab.  It stopped at his Soho loft.  They got out at the only apartment building on the block, but when they got to the door, she said “What floor are you on?”  There were only three floors, and he told her that he lived on the first floor.  The whole building looked dark.  “Where is everyone?” she asked. 

“The folks on the second floor are seasonal – they’re gone until the fall.  The folks on the third floor are in the Hamptons for the weekend.  Convenient, huh?”

She didn’t reply.  She just took out her cell phone and dialed.  “Andrea, I’m at a building on the corner of Lafayette and Howard, first floor loft.  If I don’t call at our agreed time, tell Chris to come get me.”  She hung up.  She had stared at him during her speech, looking for a reaction.

He laughed.  “I guess you’re not a little idiot after all,” he said.  “Do you mind telling me what time you have to call back?”

“Yeah, I mind,” she smiled.  They went into the apartment.

The first thing he did when they got in was sit her down in the kitchen area.  He poured her ice tea, without asking what she wanted, and then shoved a piece of paper in front of her with a pen.  “I’m not in the mood for a long talk.  You seem pretty direct.  Fill that out and leave it on the table.  I’m going to change.”

It was a checklist.  Not one she hadn’t seen before.  She was a bit surprised by his abruptness though.  He wasn’t even trying to wine and dine her.  Smart boy, she thought.   Quickly, she checked off no next to some of the practices.  Her tastes were simple – no needles, no knives, no breath control, no blood, no unsafe sex, no water play, no scat – a few others.   She wasn’t in the mood to go through the list with yeses and maybes everywhere else.  She wanted to get on with it.  If he stayed away from her off limits play, she figured the rest would take care of itself.

When he came back, he was wearing snug studded True Religion jeans and an eModa thermal black shirt that accentuated his muscular build.  It was a good look for him.  She made a point of scrutinizing his body overtly, and let her eyes rest on the noticeable bulge between his legs.   As she stared, she bit her lower lip attractively.  Her brazen inspection turned him on, but he feigned disinterest as he picked up the checklist she had completed.  He perused it quickly then put it down without comment.  

He stood up and walked toward the center of the apartment.  His body language said follow me, so she did.  The loft was really one big room, but it was laid out so some sections, like the kitchen they were in, were blocked off from the large central area.  When she moved around a large cabinet unit and got a view of the apartment, she stopped dead.  “Holy shit,” was all she could say.

“It’s well equipped, huh?” he laughed.  She just nodded.  The sight of all the paddles, floggers, benches, bondage frames, spreaders, clamps and other paraphernalia made her remember something.  She turned around and said “My safe words are yellow and red.  I assume you’re familiar with them?”

He was looking down at her 5’6” from his 6’1” when he said “I’m familiar with them…I just don’t care for them.  If I’m too much for you, you can ask me for mercy.” 

Her legs clenched together.  He was hot, no doubt about it.  But she was bratty.  She said, “You think I’m going to beg you to stop?”  

“You don’t have to beg,”  he said.  But your safe word is “mercy”.  And I don’t want to hear anything about yellow.  If you need to stop, we’ll stop, but I don’t need any direction from you before then.”

She shrugged.  She was turned on, and had no plans to leave, so she’d have to go along with his little quirks.  She figured she was more to handle than he knew, but he’d know soon enough.

He turned her around, patted her bottom and said “go lie down on that bench, on your tummy.”  He was pointing to what was clearly a spanking bench, with little platforms to bind her hands below her.

That’s when she turned back to face him and said it.  “Make me.”

There was a minor stand-off as he stared at her, trying to decide if she was worth all the trouble she was obviously planning.  Then she said “There’s still time for me to get back to the club and find someone who can.”

Something clicked for him.  This little witch is going to get just what she came for, he thought.  Before she could blink again, he held her chin with one hand and smacked her face sharply.  The unexpected blow disoriented her.  While she was trying to process that, he spun her around and wrenched one hand up behind her back.  Now he controlled her.

She was spread out on the bench in no time, and he sat on top of her while he leaned down to clip one wrist to the platform with a fur-lined cuff.  When that was secure, he got up and secured her other wrist.   He moved to the front, where her chin was in a padded ring that that kept her face upright.   He sat down in front of her, and held something up for her to see.   It was a leg spreader – longer than she had seen before.  She gulped.

“That’s better.  I don’t think you’ll be nearly as mouthy from down there.”

That’s what you think, her inner brat responded, but of course, not out loud.  After all, as the saying goes – she was submissive, not stupid.

“Your little outburst is going to cost you, young lady.  I was going to let you spread your own pretty legs for me, but since you’re not in a cooperative mood, maybe this will help you adjust your attitude.”

With that, he went behind her and attached her ankles to the oversize spreader.  Her legs felt like a wishbone being pulled apart.  The stress made her arch her back.  He put a wide leather belt around her waist, binding it to the bench.  She was effectively immobilized.  Then he lifted her skirt and tucked it into the belt.

He came back around to look at her face.  “Tell me your safe word,” he said.

She made an exasperated face and just couldn’t help saying it: “Don’t you think I can remember a little five letter word?”

“Say it.  I have all night to wait.”

“Mercy,” she said sarcastically, “the word is mercy.”

He looked into her eyes and saw carefully cultivated defiance.  What a piece of work.  No matter, he was starting to enjoy the dance.  He put his hand out under her mouth and ordered her to “spit it out.”  It took her a moment to realize that she had left the bubble gum in her mouth all this time.  Shit.

She spit the gum out into his hands, and without missing a beat, he covered her nose with it, leaving room for her nostrils to breath.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked.  “Get that stuff off of me.”

“Make me,” was all he said.  He got up and walked behind her.  She could see her face in a mirror further up in the room.  She looked ridiculous.  What a jerk.  Instead of feeling more helpless and submissive, he had raised her ire.  She was more determined than ever to “win”, whatever that meant.

“Well, get on with it then.  Are you waiting for an invitation?”

Now he was getting pissed off.  She was an unbelievable smart ass, and he wasn’t sure if this was scene play or a bona fide effort by a real brat trying her best to derail him.   He was determined not to let her control this scene, whatever it took. 

“I’m waiting for you to shut the hell up.  And I’m going to keep waiting.”  He brought a timer over and turned it to five minutes.  “If you say one word before this timer goes off, I’ll come back and put it on ten minutes.  If you can’t shut up for that long, we’ll do it again with more time until you can.  You may find that the whole night goes by with you looking at a timer and trying to keep your mouth shut.  Doesn’t that sound like fun?  I could always gag you, but I think I’m going to like this even more.”

She was really mad now.  Exactly what kind of play was this?  She was just about to give him a piece of her mind when the timer was slammed down in front of her eyes and she saw the tick/tock of the hand slowly moving towards zero.  That timer went up to an hour, and she didn’t doubt that he’d push the time out until she complied.  She closed her eyes and slammed her lips together, listening to the infuriating sounds of the timer ticking away.

Five minutes never seemed longer.  Right when the buzzer went off, she opened her mouth to deliver one of the 50 acerbic comments she had prepared, but he was too fast.  Her panties came down and he started smacking her bottom with his bare hand, hard.

She sucked in a big breath.  He was strong.  She could feel her ass warming up quickly, and she tried to wiggle around, but didn’t have a lot of mobility at the moment.   She felt her juices flowing just a short while into the spanking.  He noticed too, and stopped to run his fingers between her swelling lips.  Everything else started fading then, and her pussy convulsed around his fingers.  He took his time rubbing a long figure eight from her entry, down one side to her clitoris, caressing it and then running his fingers around and back up the other side, spreading her own juices over the whole area.  As her body writhed, he stuck his fingers into her and traced this track again and again.  He smacked her rear end with his other hand, and was rewarded with squeals of pain and pleasure.  A taut knot was forming inside of her and tension shot through her core, causing her hands to tug at the cuffs as if she might free them and fold her own fingers into the ache between her legs.   He felt her need and brought her closer to the edge with his hands on her reddening ass and in her shivering sex.  She felt yearning stretching out all through her body, and moaned over and over.

She desperately wanted him to intensify his petting, to bring her to orgasm with his hands, but he had other things in mind.  He was determined to have a sweet submissive pet by the end of the night, not a yowling she-bitch.  When he withdrew his attention, she gave out an involuntary “noooo,” and tried to move her rear into his space again.  All she felt was the resistance of the restraints.  She was panting lightly.

He came back around to her face with an ice cube, which he put on the soft chewing gum on her nose to harden it.  After he peeled the gum off and threw it out, he ran the ice over her lips and then around the back of her neck.  She squirmed with the sensation, and he kept at it, moving the ice down her back until the heat of her body melted it.  He was glad to see that her arousal was unabated – she was pounding her groin lightly against the bench trying to get some friction.  The silence in the room was punctuated by her quiet gasps and groans of mounting frustration.

She heard him walking around the room, and again he stood in front of her.  Her eyes flew open at the sight of what was in hands.  It was a cane.  Frantically, she tried to remember what she wrote on that stupid form.  She didn’t want to be caned, but had blithely skipped over the whole spanking section, not being too concerned about it.  In spite of her bravado, she really wasn’t all that experienced – she had never seen a cane up close, and suddenly, she was concerned.   She knew he had her boxed in; without her “yellow” signal, she’d have to ask for mercy and maybe end the whole scene prematurely.  Either that, or take the cane. 

Apparently, her dilemma was written on her face.  He looked smug as he said, “I want you to feel the cane, unless of course you’re asking for mercy.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak.  She shook her head no – no mercy.  He patted the top of her head and moved behind her.

She heard several whooshes through the air – for her benefit, she assumed – and then wham, the cane came crashing down on her bare skin.  The sting hurt badly and she sucked in air and blew it out hard, but what happened next hurt more.  The initial pain grew into a searing burn, sending shock waves through her body.  With the burn, came the next stroke, and the sting/burn cycle again.  It only took two strokes to bring tears to her eyes.

“Please, no more,” she heard her own pleading whisper, but the cane whipped down a third and a fourth time as if she hadn’t spoken.  She thought he was peeling the skin off of her bottom; the pain wasn’t like anything she had experienced before.  “Please, please, please, stop.”  She knew she was begging him, but she refused to use the word.  Her sobs were pitiful.  After the fifth stroke, he took a break to come see her face.

He took a tissue and wiped her eyes, then looked deeply into them.  Her pupils were slightly dilated and she looked at him without a hint of challenge – her demeanor had undergone an amazing transformation.  He liked the new look.

Still holding the cane, he asked her “Do you want more?”  She shook her head violently back and forth.

“Say it then.”

“Please, no more.”  He was staring at her, waiting for the rest, and some inner wall just collapsed.   She said plaintively “Please Sir, no more, I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?”  But he put the cane down and started to unbind her.  She was either getting deep into her head space or was a damn good actress.  He couldn’t tell which it was – yet.

When he released her and helped her stand up, her rear end felt like it was on fire.  She put her hands behind her to rub the pain away, but he grabbed them and said “Uh-uh.  Keep your hands in front of you unless I tell you otherwise.”  He shoved her hands together, forcibly interlacing her fingers.  “Now we’ll see if you mean to behave yourself.  You’re going to stand in that corner and hold your skirt up so I can admire the stripes on your ass for awhile.  And you’re not going yap while your nose is up against the wall.”

She had just been caned for the first time, and she wasn’t in the mood for any more head games.  She expected a little more caring at this point; maybe some light flogging and his talented hands tugging at her lust.  He was being a total hardass, and she knew it was because she had started it.  Part of her wanted to just acquiesce and be done with it, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the part controlling her mouth.

“No, I don’t want to stand in the corner,” she said, but with her rear still throbbing, her voice lacked conviction. 

In spite of her challenge, he was glad that he didn’t have to put up with her “make me” routine again.  She must have figured out that he could and he would.  Still, she just couldn’t get with the program, so he decided to make it easier for her.

“Did I ask you what you wanted?” he said reproachfully, and she just looked back at him.  With a decisive tone, he added “Let me help make up your mind.”

He reached over to a table and picked up a ping-pong ball.  At the same time, he was dragging her off to the corner, leaving her underwear trapped between her ankles so she was hobbling after him.

“Here’s how it’s going to be.  You’re going to hold this ping-pong ball in the corner with your nose, using your hands to hold up your skirt and sticking your adorable striped ass out into the room for my viewing pleasure.  If the ball drops, you’ll get the cane.  If your hands move, you’ll get the cane. If you start running your mouth, you’ll get the cane.  You’ll stay just like that until I come and release you.  Are the rules perfectly clear?  You have three choices – compliance, the cane or your safe word.  That’s pretty simple, even for a little brat like you.”

Before she could reply, he had her turned around and placed her in position, shoving her nose into the corner and placing the ping-pong ball between her nose and the wall.  He placed her hands at her waist holding up her plaid skirt.  Then he pressed his arm into her lower back and smacked her behind until she arched up, displaying her rear.   She heard him walk away and then heard the relentless tick-tock of the timer.  She stayed put, her face blushing furiously at this juvenile punishment he was inflicting. 

“I bet you’re dying to know how many minutes I put on the timer.  If your curiosity gets the better of you, you could always turn around to look.  Of course, the ball will drop then, and you’ll be wearing another stripe.  Is it worth it to you, I wonder?”

She had plenty she wanted to say to him, but she held her tongue admirably, because no, it definitely wasn’t worth it to her at all.  Her ass was still on fire, and all she wanted was out of the corner and into some more familiar kind of play.  The kind that ended with her all wet and happy.  So she stood there, bored and angry. 

Then he started lecturing her and her mood started to shift.  “You know, you’re a relentless little bitch.  You’re lucky you ended up with me tonight, because that mouth of yours is going to get you in real trouble some day.   Do you find it amusing to wag your caustic tongue constantly?  Around men who own whips, floggers, canes and worse?  That’s not bratty – that’s moronic.  I don’t know what game you’re running, but now, the end game is all mine.  Maybe you were hoping for a punishment more to your liking?  You fancy yourself quite the manipulator, huh?  I don’t think you’ll be so quite so witty once this night is done.  Now hike your ass out higher like I showed you, or I’ll get the cane right now.”

His words flowed over and into her.  She wanted to talk back with her usual biting retorts, but she was forbidden to speak.  She wanted to flee the corner, but she was forbidden to move.   She stood there silently through his scolding her, and she raised her ass as he told her to.  She amazed herself with her self-control, and slowly, her forced obedience didn’t feel forced anymore.  She concentrated on doing exactly what he demanded, for the first time that night, and finally her willfulness subsided.   She counted the tick-tock sounds, wishing the bell would ring and release her, so she could show him she was ready, ready for whatever he wanted.   He owned her now, for this night, and she couldn’t wait to kneel at his feet so he could feel it too.  The ticking noise grew louder and louder in her head, triggering a mantra – take me, take me, take me – and her whole body tingled with the knowledge that he would, soon.