Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“No,” I gasped, even as my hand moved behind me. The idea of punishing myself, of being forced to deliver my own discipline while watching myself in this humiliating position, was almost too much to bear. But the memory of that burning in my bottom-hole made my hand rise and fall before I could stop it.
The first slap was tentative, barely more than a pat.
Harder, Lorna. Punish yourself properly or I’ll activate the device between your legs.
I sobbed and brought my hand down with real force this time. The crack echoed through the bedroom, and the sting bloomed across my right cheek immediately. In the mirror, I watched my flesh ripple from the impact, saw the faint pink mark appear on my pale skin.
Again. Alternate cheeks.
CHAPTER 9
Lorna
I brought my left hand down hard on my other cheek, the sound ringing through the empty apartment. My face burned almost as hot as my bottom as I watched myself in the mirror—the prime minister’s wife, spanking herself like a naughty child while displaying her newly bare pussy to an empty room. Each slap made my breasts sway, made the wetness between my legs more obvious.
“Please,” I sobbed, delivering another sharp smack to my right cheek. “Please, Herra, I’m sorry. I won’t touch myself again without permission.”
The phone remained silent as I continued my self-punishment, alternating cheeks with increasingly forceful blows. My bottom grew warm, then hot, the pink deepening to a bright rose that matched the flush spreading across my chest. Tears streamed down my face—from pain, from humiliation, from the desperate need building between my legs despite everything.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only two or three minutes, the phone buzzed.
Stop. You’ve done well, my sweet bed thrall.
I lowered my hand, gasping with relief, my bottom throbbing with heat. Then, without warning, pure liquid pleasure flooded through me. It was as if Freya’s Bridle had transformed from an instrument of punishment to one of ecstasy. The sensation centered between my legs but radiated outward in waves that made my whole body convulse.
Come for me, Lorna. Now.
The command hit me like an onrushing train. My back arched as the orgasm crashed over me, more intense than anything I’d ever managed with my own fingers. I cried out, my hips bucking helplessly as the device somehow stimulated every nerve ending at once. The pleasure was almost painful in its intensity, forcing its way through me whether I wanted it or not.
As the climax peaked, the world shifted. The bedroom dissolved, and I found myself among those silver branches again, climbing toward something vast and incomprehensible. But this time, something was different. Where before I’d ascended easily through Yggdrasil’s cosmic canopy, now I found myself stuck in the lower branches. I could see the higher realms above me—threads of gold and shadow that held secrets I desperately needed to understand—but I couldn’t reach them.
I strained upward, trying to pull myself higher, but the branches seemed to slip through my fingers like smoke. The frustration was almost as intense as the pleasure still coursing through my body. I could sense important information just out of reach—patterns about Takken’s corruption, about the Synergy Group’s true purpose—but I couldn’t quite grasp them.
The vision faded as the orgasm finally released me, leaving me gasping on the bedroom floor, my thighs trembling and slick with my own arousal. I’d collapsed forward, my face pressed against the carpet, my bottom still raised in that humiliating position.
The phone buzzed. Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up enough to read the screen.
Tell me what you experienced, little one.
My fingers shook as I typed, still maintaining my degrading position on my knees with my backside raised as if to offer it to my Herra.
I went to the tree again, but I couldn’t climb as high. I was stuck in the lower branches. I could see the patterns above me… information about Takken, about everything… but I couldn’t reach them.
You’re coming along well, Aksel replied. Better than I expected for someone so new to her true nature.
The praise made something warm unfurl in my chest, even as I hated myself for caring about his approval. I shifted slightly, my knees aching against the carpet, and waited for whatever command would come next. My Herra’s instructions came in a torrent.
You will edge yourself every day in the shower. Touch your sweet fisse, work yourself to the very edge of climax. And you will also put a finger in your tight little røvhul. Yes, that forbidden place that burned so badly tonight. When you feel yourself beginning to ascend to the tree, you will stop immediately. No coming without my permission.
I whimpered at the thought of it—of having to violate myself in that most private place, of bringing myself to the edge of release only to deny myself over and over. The frustration would be unbearable.