Posted at 19:01 on 12 Mar 2014 by Pandora / Blake
D bound my wrists and led me through to the spare room, smiling. He slung the rope over the top of the weights cage, pulled it down and my hands up, and tied it tight. The rope wasn't thick enough for me to comfortably hang my weight from it, so instead I reached up and grasped the bar above my head. In the mirror I watched my torso stretch taut.
He kissed me, touched my thighs and my breasts, pulled my head back by the hair to kiss my neck. He spanked me as if to say hello to my body, and I exhaled slowly, feeling the tingling as my skin woke up. Then he walked away.
I shifted my weight in the high heeled shoes. I had time to notice the contrasts in my reflection - opaque black stockings and bare skin, small breasts and broad hips. I hadn't expected a scene tonight. I wondered if I was supposed to feel scared, but I decided it was fine to feel happy and excited.
He returned with a few toys. A red ribbon which he tied around my throat, an old collaring symbol of ours. I wanted to kiss his hands, but instead I bowed my head to let him tie the bow. He had a flogger, too, and to avoid getting distracted by my reflection I closed my eyes as he began to play it over my body. Thighs, flanks, buttocks, then little flicks around my sides, the tips wrapping round to tease my front.
He turned me around and whipped my breasts. The flogger began moving faster, whirring and flickering over my (by now very hard) nipples. Was it supposed to hurt? It just felt good. I moaned, already wanting him to fuck me.
"Spread your legs."
I have never been more ready to obey. Moving my feet apart made it harder to keep my grip on the bars above my head, so I let go and hung from the rope, feeling precarious, vulnerable - and sexy.
He reached down, eyes locked with mine, and slid a finger between my legs. A little movement and it was evident to both of us that I was soaking wet. He never took his eyes off my face, and I could see the desire shining in them.
I was disappointed when he withdrew his hand. He picked up the flogger again, returning to the theme of whipping my breasts, and between the hardest strokes he bent his head and licked at my nipples, which were already feeling stiff and sore. Waves of pleasure and pain.
I surrendered. He could do whatever he wanted.
He put the flogger down, but it wasn't over for my breasts. He started to slap them, one by one. I shifted my feet so I could hang from the bar again, a more secure position. Each smack connected with the soft flesh in a way that felt thuddy and good, making them jiggle. My nipples hurt the most, as if tiny jewels were embedded in my breasts.
He held my gaze and drew his hand back. I knew it would be a hard one. I exhaled and prepared myself, but when it came, I cried out with pain and twisted my body, one leg drawing up involuntarily.
The smacks increased in force until they were rocking my whole body. I was gasping, and every time his eyes caught mine the air between us seemed to crackle. He hit me again and I wondered if it would bruise.
All the time he was hitting me hard and slow, I wanted it lighter and faster. I didn't have to ask; he did that too. At first I felt the light, rhythmic slaps, landing on one breast again and again, as pure pleasure, jolts of lust making my thighs quake. My breast bounced and wobbled under his hand. Then all of a sudden the cumulative sting broke out of pleasure and into pain, and in one second it went from hot and exciting to acute and unbearable. I lost control and gave out a weird keen, bucking and writhing to try and escape the slaps. Eventually, he stopped. I whimpered. He moved to the other breast, and the whole thing started again.
We kissed as if we wanted to eat each other, both of us overtaken by desire even as he held me in his power.
His eyes were like galaxies as he stroked my dripping cunt. I was dizzy from the slaps and the kisses, and my breasts throbbed. He told me to spread my legs again.
Somehow I knew what was coming next. He smacked my swollen cunt and electricity shocked through my whole body. I let out a low groan. His fingers pressed against me again, soothing the tingle, and I felt my own wetness spill against his hand. Another slap, harder, and my legs shook as tremors rocked my body.
I could see his rock hard erection straining up until the tip touched my belly, smearing me. He drew back his hand and smacked my cunt a few more times. Each slap made lights flash inside my skull and arousal dribble down my thighs. Now I really, really wanted him to fuck me.
Luckily he was thinking the same thing. He slid his cock between my legs and I couldn't help but moan. I realised I was going to need to concentrate as he tried to get the angle right, but teetering on high heels, thigh muscles trembling, it wasn't easy. He kissed me to quell my nervous giggles and I felt his cock slowly push inside. He stayed there, kissing me, playing with my breasts, until I was desperate for him to move, to fuck me properly.
I couldn't bear it. I needed him to move inside me. I shifted my hips and the change in angle pushed him out. So much for my idea.
Instead, he untied my wrists and re-tied them behind my back, suspending me bent forward from the waist. I was facing the mirror and I could see his face as he held my hips in both hands and finally, gloriously, began to fuck me. I had no way of stabilising myself so he had to hold on pretty tight to stop me rocking forward too much with every thrust. I moved my feet further apart, lifted my hips and exalted as he filled me.
Just as I thought I might come, I had to adjust my straining thigh muscles to keep my balance, and the concentration shift broke my curve. I sighed in frustration.
He knows me well enough to know exactly what had happened, and he didn't waste time. Down came the rope, and down went I, no longer tied, bending over the weights bench while he fucked me from behind. Better; but I was still on my feet, and it was hard to relax in the high heels with legs straining to keep me stable.
And so we retired to the bedroom, and then it was just fine. On my back, legs in the air, his hard cock hitting that sweet spot again and again, hands grabbing and squeezing my sore and tender breasts, until his hips were slamming against me with every thrust and I came so hard I saw stars.
We didn't stop there, but after that I basically didn't stop coming, and so I can't be sure exactly what happened next.
He fucked me on the bed on hands and knees, my arms stretched out full length in front of me, and he gripped my hips to keep me in position as I writhed on his cock and came again and again.
He fucked my face a lot, and later I wrapped my legs tight around him, my heels digging into his back, and licked his ear and kissed him until eventually he came too.
We rolled around on the bed in a sticky, sweaty tangle, unable to stop touching each other, aching with love. His cock got hard again and I sucked him and pumped him with my hand, not knowing or caring if he was going to have another orgasm, until he did.
The clichés have it, he fucked me senseless, he fucked me into oblivion. But the opposite is true. He didn't fuck me into emptiness; he fucked me into fullness. We fucked until my whole mind and body was throbbing with sensation, until fireworks went off in my brain, blood roared in my ears, and kaleidoscopes danced behind my eyes. We fucked until my body was so full of pleasure, I was whole.
He didn't fuck me into oblivion: he fucked me into consciousness.