|(MF, mild DS-BD-SM, real)|
Itís been 3 months since that second night with Jack. I havenít called him, not sent him any texts. It didnít seem appropriate to; it wasnít about having a relationship with him. I didnít know his surname; I donít care what he does for a job, where he lives, what he does on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I know he has a girlfriend, and I know he moved away from here to Essex somewhere, thatís it.
Itís the night my husband has gone away on his friendís stag do. Jack put it in his diary, along with my address, and promised to come to me tonight. I have no idea if he intends to keep his promise. I get ready anyway, just in case.
Iíve thought about him so much over the last few weeks. Not deliberately, he just creeps inside my day dreams. I find myself accidentally reliving the moment I met him, the feel of him touching me, of his hand running up my thigh and lifting my dress for the first time. Reliving the sensation of him putting his hand across my throat and pushing down - I can still feel that lightning bolt of electricity that coursed down through my body from his hand which then collided with the ecstasy of his cock fucking me harder than anyone had ever done before. I want him to keep his promise, but I also feel a little afraid of him, of the power he has over me.
The house is tidy. My bedroom is uncluttered as I have a separate dressing room. There are clean white sheets on the bed, then a white fur throw. The bed is Japanese; itís only a foot or so off the painted white floorboards. Thereís a low armchair and an old wooden ottoman. Nothing else, except long deep purple curtains cover the window, thereís a large mirror on one wall, and a collection of 18th century Japanese block prints of snow or rain scenes of old Kyoto round the walls. I light a couple of large church candles on the ottoman.
In my dressing room I take off all my clothes and stand in front of the mirror. I have a moment of self-doubt. I donít know if I can do this, if I can be someoneís sexual fantasy. Heís probably not coming anyway, so it doesnít really matter. I plunge in to a steaming hot bath.
My pale ivory skin glows warm and soft after my long bath. I open my underwear drawer. Itís too warm tonight to put stockings on, and besides, heís probably not coming, so Iíll keep it simple. I rummage through the garters, past the black corset, until I reach my favourite red knickers. They are essentially a red satin thong, unfussy but incredibly tactile at the front. The sides of the knickers are inch deep red satin ribbons that pass across my hips, thread through a loop in the thong coming up between my cheeks, and then tie in a giant bow at the back. My pussy; my wet, begging, red cunt, wrapped up like a gift for Jack to do with as he wants. I donít have a matching bra or anything, so I just leave my breasts naked except two long loops of pearls that drape down across them to my navel. The pearls roll across my pert sensitive nipples sending a tingle down my spine.
I wrap myself up in my dressing gown and watch telly drinking a very nice bottle of red Malbec. I fall asleep on the sofa, when I rouse again its gone midnight. I turn off the telly and take the rest of my wine up to bed. For the first time ever I send Jack a text: If you are still coming, Iíve gone to bed but Iíve left the back door unlocked for you. J xx
Itís really warm tonight; I lie on top of the covers, chest down. My big red bow is the only thing on my naked, exposed body. The red wine sends me in to a woozy sleep.
Am I dreaming? I am slowly roused from my sleep by his hand gently stroking my hair, and then running down my naked back, across my buttocks and along my inner thighs. I donít move, or speak but slowly open my eyes. He is lying next to me, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. Our eyes meet, he smiles, warm, affectionate; adoring me.
ĎSit upí he says quietly, gently. I oblige, saying nothing.
I lift myself up until I am sitting with my legs tucked under, my bottom on my heels. He has followed me; he is sitting close behind me, his legs wider than mine. His jeans feel coarse against my naked skin. He strokes my hair over to my right shoulder and gently encourages me to rest my head back onto his shoulder. My neck is now completely exposed to him. He kisses my neck, gently passes his tongue around the sensitive folds of my ear. I canít help but open my mouth a little, my breathing quickens. His hand runs down the pearls till he reaches my breast, he lightly toys with my nipple. I lean further back into him; I lift my pelvis and open my legs a little. I can feel my cunt burning to be touched. The thong is hot and wet.
He knows what I want, but his hands disappear, he has reached for something.
ĎPut your hands behind your backí
I lean forwards slightly and do as I am told. He crosses my wrists over each other and ties them tight with what feels like a rope. It burns my skin as he wraps it and tightens it round. He goes back to the same position, but now my arms are tied back so firmly my chest feels much more exposed, my back is arched as lean back into him. My legs are open much wider this time.
He starts again, but this time it is not gentle, it is forceful and passionate. He kisses sucks and bites my neck and ear, whilst his hands move over my breasts. He briefly pinches my hard, erect nipples, forcing me to let out a stifled gasp of pleasure, before one hand drops down between my open legs. I would beg him right now to touch me if I needed to, but I donít. He can feel immediately how wet I am and pushes the red satin to one side. His fingers explore my pussy; my pelvis lifts up desperate for him to put his hand inside me. I feel his finger pausing at the entrance. He pulls back. He takes his hand away, and rubs his dripping wet finger around my nipples then around my open lips. I suck his finger; he is making me taste my own cum. I like it. He returns to my throbbing, dripping cunt, finally satisfying it with one finger then two, then three. He knows exactly where it is. He touches that spot and I explode. My whole body is on fire, pins and needles of pleasure run through my hands and feet. I groan and cry in ecstasy, I think I call out his name. I canít help but thrust my pelvis upwards, I start fucking his hand.
He pulls down on the loose end of the rope with his other hand trying to immobilize me more. With every bone in my body I try to obey. I try to be quiet, I try not push up to meet his hand, but as the orgasm overwhelms me I disobey him. He lets me cum; he can feel my unconscious pulsing around his finger as my cunt contracts with each wave of pleasure. He waits till it stops.
ĎI told you not to moveí, he says slowly, quietly, into my ear. He sounds disappointed, cross with my disobedience.
He leans back from me, and pushes me forwards so that my head is on the pillow but my buttocks are still raised up on my heels, my knees tucked under my belly.
He gets up and leaves the room. I can hear his footsteps on the floorboards; he walks to the back door. Is he going to leave me here, tied on the bed? But he returns. He has picked up two of my belongings he must have noticed by the back door. I know he wouldnít want me to look, so I keep my face on the pillow. Poised, waiting for the unknown, still a little dizzy and overwhelmed by the orgasm.
He carefully undoes the bow of my knickers. They fall away. I am now completely naked. Waiting.
Then it comes. Whack. A burning pain across my buttocks. A thin, straight line. A noise I recognise. Heís using my riding crop. The first one was just a warning, the next is harder, faster. I recoil forwards into the pillow, I cry out, but it is stifled by the pillow. I canít help the tears from flowing, but Iím not sobbing, I donít turn round, I donít ask him to stop. Whack, whack, whack. Five times in total. Each time I cry out in pain. The five lines burn.
I lie motionless, the tears flooding silently.
He brought something else back from the backdoor. I am waiting for it.
He straddles me. He lifts the hair from my neck. He passes the dogís metal choke chain round my neck and tightens it. I can feel the cold metal of the chain as it rests across my back. It ends in a leather handle which he uses to make me sit up. He leads me off the end of the bed.
I kneel down as he asks on the floorboards by the end of the bed. Behind me he ties the loose end of the rope thatís round my wrists to the base of the bed; in one of the loops he ties the choke chain. I am completely immobilized.
He sits down on the armchair a few feet in front of me and leans back, looking at his prize, his servant, helpless and naked in front of him.
For a moment I feel afraid. I am suddenly aware that I donít know this man at all. The feeling of overwhelming love and passion for him is replaced by genuine fear. Is he going to hurt me for real? He could kill me right now and walk away. I can feel the warmth of my tears as they drop from my cheek on to my chest. But I hold myself together, I still do not sob or even speak. I look him in the eye and he subconsciously dampens all my fear, I donít see aggression, I still see love, desire, passion. He is looking at me like something he adores and worships.
He slowly takes off his shoes. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and discards it on the floor. I had forgotten how fucking gorgeous this man was. His muscles are so clearly defined, his left arm highlighted by the cross tattoo. He stands up. Undoes his belt, slowly undoes the buttons of his jeans and takes them off, removing his pants at the same time. Finally he is naked too.
I can see how much he has enjoyed tying me, whipping me, dominating me. I notice his pants are wet with that little bit of pre-cum men make. His cock is in full glory in front of me, it is frighteningly enormous. The blood vessels are distended and the head shining dark red. I can see his balls are tucked up Ė I know that means he will come fast, he is so turned-on he wonít be able to hold it back for long.
One tiny step closer and if I open my mouth I can touch it, lick it, suck it. Suddenly I realize I have all the power. He is wound-up, ready to explode, but I have to consent, I have to open my mouth.
He runs his hand through my hair as he moves himself closer, and leaves his hand holding the back of my head. I open my mouth just a little and with moist lips gently kiss along his cock, starting from the base. As I reach the tip I run my tongue around the rim of the head and lick away any remaining pre-cum. I can feel every muscle in his legs tightening. With every movement of my lips, my tongue, he makes a sharp intake of breath. I didnít think it was possible, but I can feel his cock engorge even more, become even harder.
I pass my lips all the way over the head whilst continuing to run my tongue over its tip. I donít think he can take much more. I drop my tongue down, close my lips tightly around the hard shaft and allow his cock to pass right to the back of my throat. The tip hits my gag reflex, but Iíve practiced Ė I know how to override that basic instinct. With a quick push forward of my tongue, I open up my throat and the whole enormous shaft is inside. He lets out a groan of sheer pleasure.
He passes both his hands behind my head and holds me. He begins to thrust. With force, with pent up passion and aggression he fucks my throat. With every beat he exhales Ďuh, uhí, until he finally explodes. I can feel his cock contract and spasm as he comes down the back of my throat. He is too deep for me to taste it.
He pulls out, and drops to his knees in front of me. The height of the orgasm has overwhelmed him. He catches his breath as the tension drains from his body.
He reaches behind me and unties me from the bed, slips off the choke chain, leaving only my hands tied. He gets himself back on his feet and fetches my glass of wine. He lifts it up to my red aching lips and lovingly helps me to drink, stroking my hair, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
The tears confuse him I think. He moves a hand between my legs and tentatively feels my pussy. I can see the glint of satisfaction in his eye as he realizes my cunt is dripping wet, my clit distended and ripe.
ĎSit downí he tells me, indicating to the armchair.
I drop back, deep into the comfort of the chair. He opens my legs wide; I lift one of my feet on to the ottoman. My pussy is open in front of him, glistening in the candle light. He licks, kisses, and sucks my clit. He reaches his tongue deep inside my cunt. I am in ecstasy. He can feel my pleasure building as I lift my pelvis up to help his penetration. Then one hand has a finger inside me, hitting that spot, whilst his tongue stimulates my clit. I donít think I can feel anything more amazing than this, until suddenly his other hand pushes down on a spot just above my pelvic bone. One knuckle buries hard into that spot, just on the top edge of my pussy hair. For a brief moment it feels like Iím going to urinate. But then a wave of the most amazing orgasm engulfs me. It is indescribable. Iím sorry I canít help you to feel it Ė I donít have the words.
I am drunk, exhausted and in pain. I must have fallen asleep in the chair. Or passed out.
I wake at dawn, tucked up nicely in my bed. Bleary eyed, I look around the room. I really was dreaming it all. No jack, no rope, no whip, no chain.
But my throat throbs; my cunt feels red and sore. I look in the mirror. I see five deep purple lines across my buttocks.
Life carried on as normal. Another 3 weeks pass. Itís my birthday and Iím merry. As a birthday treat to myself I allow myself to send him one simple text
ĎAre you coming home any time soon? J xxí
Two days go by. Nothing. My mind runs through the possibilities, avoiding the obvious. Heís on holiday. Heís lost his phone. Heís died in a car crash.
Beep Ė a text message. Its 2am on a Thursday night. Iím lying in bed next to my husband. Iím certain heís asleep, so I read it. Get caught now, and Iíll struggle to explain this late night text.
ĎHappy birthday Jessica. I donít plan to come home again anytime soon. Iím really fond of you Jess, but I donít think we should see each other again. Iím sorry. J x xí
A deep black hole opens up inside my belly. Before I can control myself, I am sobbing. Tears stream down my face. I think Iím going to be sick. I canít get back to sleep. In the morning I pass off my teary eyes as a random bout of hay fever, he seems to believe me. For the next few weeks I grieve. I will never see him again. Why couldnít he just have said he wasnít coming home soon? I would have been happy holding on to the thought Iíd see him again someday.
Now, I realize I grieve for the loss of someone like me, not specifically for Jack. To want sex like that, and to act on that desire, is rare. I donít think anyone will put their hand round my throat again. Someone might let me tie them up for fun, but I doubt they would truly submit.
Jack Ė if you should ever read this, I hope you dumped me because I wasnít good enough, because you have found someone better. I couldnít bear it if you wonít see me because you think itís wrong to want me like that; wrong to want to hurt me. I feel sick imagining you just making love to your girlfriend Ė not having anyone to bruise your throat, leave rope burns on your wrists, leave whip lines across the back of your thighs. You canít change what you are Jack.
© Copyright 2011 Jessica