I made the mistake of telling you my fantasies. I’ve kept them to myself for so long. You seem so kind to me. Giving me everything I’ve always wanted. Made me feel sexy for the first time in my life.
I couldn’t ask for a better lover. You treated me Like no other. You taught me that I was more sexual than I thought. That I enjoyed all aspects of sex, but in particular that I felt my best when you told me what to do.
You taught me that I was submissive. I craved it from you. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for you. The one thing you found out about me is the one that turns you on the most. I love pain. But only the kind of pain inflicted while I’m helpless.
So I find myself in our basement, naked and tied to the wooden X that you build especially for me. My arms and legs spread wide, not being able to move. A blindfold over my eyes, and earbuds playing classical music. Deprived of all my senses.
It only heightens my sense of feeling, the only sense you can’t deprive me of, but the one sense you can heighten. Now I wait. What will it be this time?
Will you just take me? Force your hard seven inches inside me. Fuck me till you come, then leave me while you rest for another go at me. Maybe you’ll take the flogger to me. At least the pain will make me cum. My orgasm will be intense.
Or maybe the whip. More painful than the flogger, but the flogger doesn’t leave marks. It just makes me red, whereas the whip leaves its marks. You have to be careful with a whip. The marks can’t be where others can see. When I go to work I can’t have my coworkers seeing me marked.
So you have to be careful where you strike. One safe place is the one place you love. No matter what you use, my breasts will bear the brunt of your strokes.
My sensitive tits. My nipples. You love to play with my nipples. You know they are extremely sensitive, and you know that any pain given to them has a direct connection to my clit. You know that pinching my nipples will cause me to cum. When that one strike with the whip makes direct contact with my nipples, the pain is excruciating, but so is the pleasure.
Then of course there is the cane. When you want to inflict the greatest amount of pain, there is the cane. You only use it on me as a last resort. It doesn’t leave red marks or the marks of a whip, but deeper wounds. Wounds that take weeks to heal. Angry welts that sometimes bleed when you strike too hard.
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I jump when you touch me. You run your hand across my cheek down to my neck, the other hand on the other cheek, following the same path. Both hands slide down to my breasts. You lift them and squeeze them. I know what’s coming next.
You pinch my nipples, lightly at first, then with increasing pressure, until I can’t hear myself moaning. Then my first orgasm. It starts in my nipples and then runs down to my pussy. That first orgasm opens the valve so my juices can flow freely down my legs.
Then nothing. Your hands leave me. Now it’s the most intense time of this whole night. Waiting. Waiting for what will come. Waiting for what instrument of pain you will use on me.
I instinctively tense up, but for nothing. I wait, tense up, and wait some more. My muscles ache from tensing up so much.
I jump again. This time not from any instrument, but your hand. You place it between my breasts, and slowly and gently run it down over my navel to stop at my mound above my pussy.
This is new, unexpected. What’s going on! Is it you? I can’t be sure. The hand starts to move. it starts to move down. I get nervous, and I start to shake. I want to ask who it is, but I don’t want to displease you.
Then it goes between my legs. Oh, God what a feeling. The fingers stroke from my clit to my back opening. I can’t help but push my hips forward to try to increase the contact. I’m so close to cumming. The hand backs off until I stop moving. I won’t do that again.
Then I relax, and the hand moves down. This time the middle finger parts the lips to my pussy, and sinks inside. I start to orgasm. This is highly unusual, but I’m not complaining.
For some reason, I’m crying. The tears are running down my cheeks. My emotions are running wild, and I don’t know whether to cum or to cry, so I do both.
The fingers are relentless. The one turns to two, then to three. They pulled from me more orgasms and more tears. I pull on my bonds more than if I was being caned.
I was beginning into the zone. The zone where my orgasms run into each other until there is only one. Then as quickly as it started, the hand withdrew. I waited, but it didn’t return. Then the music stopped. You let me down. My arms were weak. You held me up and helped me to the couch where you sat me down. You removed the restraints from my wrists and ankles.
You help me upstairs still with my blindfold on. Then you had me step into the bathtub which was full of water at just the right temperature. You helped me down into it and without saying a word, washed my body.
You never touched me sexually, just washed away the tension. Then you removed the blindfold and earbuds. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the light and slowly you appeared. The face I love with all my heart and soul. You smiled at me but didn’t say a word. You helped me up and with a big fluffy towel, dried my now relaxed body.
Gently I was lifted in your arms to be carried to our bed which was turned down. I felt like I was floating on a cloud to be gently placed on another. You stripped off your clothes and got in next to me.
We made passionate love for the rest of the night. I don’t know how many times I came, but they were different. These were all about our love for each other and not for the physical feeling.
As I drifted off into a deep sleep, I wondered what other surprise lay in store for me.