Reading Time: 13minutes With tense voice, you respond, "I will strap you down, pull at your pussy lips, tug your nipples, tweak your clit, pound my cock into your cunt, and torment you mercilessly."
6:15 p.m. The phone rings. The staff left an hour ago. Fuck, this is going to be a long night.
“Katrina Barron speaking.”
“Hey, you breathe.”
“Hello, my love,” I exhale back. My god, Thomas, just the sound of your voice makes me quiver.
“What’re you up to?” you ask.
“Sticking around the office here until I get a conference call from Japan around 9:00. We have a half-million dollar marketing project coming down the pipeline. I figured I knock off some busy work between now and then. God, I love my job,” I sarcastically reply. “And you?”
“I have about an hour and a half to kill.” Long pause. I hear the Cheshire grin spreading across your face. “So, what are you wearing?” you question.
“Cashmere sweater, tweed skirt . . .” I respond before you cut me off with, “Cut the crap, Kat. Tell me what I want to know.”
“Perfect, you have 15 minutes to get prepared. I will see you then.” The phone goes dead.
Shit, my office is a mess, and time is ticking away. First things first, though. I open the wall safe and pull out a joint. I go into my private bathroom, turn on the fan, and light up. I recently bought some top shelf weed that will rip you in just one hit . . . I take three. You insist I be stoned when we make love, for so many reasons. I am unable to speak or think clearly, so I remain quiet and obedient. Everything moves in slow motion, so the sex seems to last forever. I get exceedingly oral, and will voraciously suck on anything put in my mouth. And when finally allowed to come, my orgasms rip through my body in the most extraordinary of ways.
After hitting it, I clear my desk of all clutter – you need a clean slate. I then strip off my sweater and skirt, laying the sweater on the desk and hanging the skirt in my closet. I step into my bathroom, brush my hair, brush my teeth, clean thoroughly between my legs. I get some hot, damp towels, a glass of ice water for me and a vodka martini for you, and bring them back to my desk. I turn on your favorite piano jazz. I happened to wear a long silk scarf today, and I think that might be a nice addition tonight. I laid that on my desk top as well. I stood at the computer and logged onto our favorite BDSM site and found a particularly intriguing new video. (Nice to have a little background amusement.) After making a quick survey of the surrounding area, I bend over 90E at the waist, place my forearms on the desk top, palms down, eyes lowered, and wait.
In just a few minutes your frame fills the doorway. You step over the threshold, shut and lock the door. “Hey, darlin’,” you whisper.
“My love,” I reply.
“Are you prepared?” you inquire.
“I am prepared. Please examine,” I answer. You scrutinize every inch of my body to make sure all meets your approval. I have taken my position of submission. The lace in my bra and panties is laying smooth and flat. My stockings have no runs or snags. Shoes – polished. Nails – buffed and filed. Makeup – flawless. I have passed your test. You then check my desk to be sure it is in order. I have the computer set properly. The requisite music is playing. You sip your perfect martini and nod in approval. Though not requested, you appreciate my forethought and creativity with the scarf. But where are the clips? Shit, being so proud of my scarf idea, I forgot the clips! I should know better than to get so cocky. Meekly, I ask your forgiveness and request your permission to get them now. You gruffly concede, adding, “Bring your hairbrush, too. You were not prepared, and you will be punished.” My pussy spontaneously contracts.
I grab the flat paddle-brush out of the bathroom, dip into my desk drawer for four binder clips. You insist I bring out two more. I guess I really am in trouble! Resuming my position, you ask if I masturbated last night. Egging you on, I answer, “I am not sure whether to lie to you or not as to whether I did . . . or not. What will you do to me if I misbehaved?”
With tense voice, you respond, “I will strap you down, pull at your pussy lips, tug your nipples, tweak your clit, pound my cock into your cunt, and torment you mercilessly.”
How is that punishment? I wonder to myself. “What will you do if I followed your command?” I question.
Grinning wickedly, you answer, “Then I’ll let you cum.” Thank god, I have denied myself for weeks. “Well, then I am truly blessed. I have obeyed you. I am all yours to do as you wish.”
Standing behind me, you languidly trace your fingertips up and down my back and buttocks. You run your fingers softly through my hair, tugging lightly as you reach the ends. You reach down, grasp my hairbrush, and glide it through my hair from roots to ends in one fluid motion. I have done well and have no tangles. After several sensual brush-strokes, you suddenly slap the paddle firmly across my ass. I yelp like a dog – that was unexpected! You have never used props during my spankings before. You rub your hand gently across my ass cheek, taking away some of the sting. That is, until the next smack on the other cheek. Again, you soothe my bottom with the coolness of your palm. My brain protests against further abuse, but I vocalize nothing. I dare not stray from my position, lest you punish me further. Intermittently, as you assault my back-side, you stroke my shoulders and arms, kiss the center of my back, caress me so softly – a perfect counter-balance. This flogging continues for another dozen strokes, my ass now on fire, my eyes tearing up from the exquisite pain. Setting down the brush, you take my glass of water, run the cold sides along my flaming buttocks. The pain subsides only mildly.
After my spanking, you check between my thighs to determine my true reaction. You draw your index finger along the center seam of my panties, and my fluids are already seeping through the lace. You turn me around to face you. Finally, I can gaze into the eyes of the man that I most intimately love, the one who knows exactly who I am, the one who can see into my soul. You bring your full lips to mine, soft and supple, and with your lips, part mine to accept your tongue. I instantly melt into you. You kiss me deeply and passionately. I feel my insides somersault and my nipples harden. Without removing my bra, you slip each breast over the lace of the cups, freeing them their restraints, but keeping them high and tight. You admire my taut nipples, at first licking, then biting down. As your mouth cruelly teases my right breast, your fingers twist my left nipple, manipulating it expertly. You pull it out and down hard, and I wince in pain. You ask rhetorically if it hurts. Regardless of whether I answer “yes” or “no”, it will be the wrong answer, so I remain silent. You switch your mouth and hand, now ministering to the other breast. You check my panties again, and I have soaked them through.
Oh, that sweet nectar – you crave a drink! You kiss me again, unhook my bra, slide my shorts down my thighs, and seat me on the desk. You lie me back on my sweater so that I can slip across the mahogany rather than sticking to it. You sit in my chair, eyes fixated on my pussy. Freshly waxed the previous afternoon, I am smooth as silk – not a stray in sight. “Yes, darlin’, you did prepare yourself properly. I have punished you enough for not preparing your desk to my satisfaction. Now you will have your reward.”
“Thank you, my love. My only wish is to please you.”
You slip your fingers between my dripping lips, getting them lubed without sliding inside. You grab each outer lip between thumb and forefinger, slowly, firmly, pulling them out, up, down. You tweak my throbbing clit, squeezing it rapidly, relentlessly. You bend your face down and wrap your lips around my clit, sucking it out and flicking the head with your tongue. Your left hand still tugs on my outer lips while your right hand keeps the skin above my pussy taut, making my clit stand at full attention.
You withdraw your mouth from my little box, your hands reach for the first two binder clips. To ensure my nipples are still erect, you flick each with your fingernails. Satisfied, you hold onto my right nipple with one hand, and attach one clip each above and below the very tip with the other. I shudder in pain. You repeat the process on the other nipple. I cannot begin to imagine what you have in mind for the last two. With the tip of my nipples still exposed, you flick each again as you dive between my thighs once more. The clipping process deepened my arousal, and you are rewarded with a fresh pre-cum.
You release your right hand from its nipple-torture, again wetting your fingers along my slick slash. This time, I know they will be taking me to new heights from within. With no effort, you slip your first two fingers in my soaked, gaping hole. My muscles immediately grab on, forming a vice-grip around your fingers. Your mind races, dreaming what that cunt will do when let loose on your cock. After finger-fucking my pussy for what seemed like an hour, you slide out of my pussy, and in one swift motion, thrust them simultaneously into my anal opening. I gasp for a breath, recovering from the shock. Once you feel the muscles relax and adjust, you slowly twist your fingers in and out of my tight hole. This is enough to bring me to the brink, and you can feel my ass hole clutch you tighter, my back arching, my breath irregular, ragged, deep. As I approach the point of no return, I beg your permission to cum.
You stop all movement, stealing my orgasm from me. You sadistic Fuck! The evil grin covering your face lets me know that the games have just begun.
You stand up, and pull me to a sitting position. You take the scarf off the desk, twist it into a thin rope, then bind up the base of my breasts. My breasts are now immobile, standing straight out in front of me, clips still attached, getting redder and angrier by the moment. You then lie me back down again, and go for the last two clips, attaching one to each pussy lip. It is a new pain for me, and it is good. You flick at each of those clips until my slit starts to drip again, down my ass, pooling on the desk. You take my hands, place them on my swollen cunt, command me to play for a while, but ban me from reaching orgasm.
You step to the other side of my desk and finally undress. Torturously slow, you remove your shoes, socks, shirt, tie, trousers, boxers. You stand over my head, in all your naked glory. You run your hands through my hair again, extracting a sigh from me. You then grab and twist the clips on my tits. You slap and swat my breasts a bit, leaving a pink flush. While undressing, your erection subsided. You wrap your left hand around the back of my head, slip your flaccid prick into my mouth, and demand that I suck you hard again. As I tongue the head, the shaft, I wrap my right hand around your balls, tugging them slowly and firmly downward. You continue to fuck my face until your erection rages again. Your cock repeatedly pounds the back of my throat. Choking, I cannot pull away with your fingers entangled in my hair.
You take your right hand from my nipples, and press down on my sternum and throat. Deeply aroused, I open my mouth wider to take more of you in. Your hand encircles my neck, pressed against my windpipe, restricting my air-flow. You move on and off my throat – my every breath labored. With an empty pussy and tits painfully ignored, my body yearns for release. I now reach my saliva-soaked hand between your thighs, and with my slender, perfectly manicured finger, invade your ass. You clench, then acquiesce. Aware that this move can bring you too swiftly to orgasm, I probe erratically, just toying, really. I withdraw my finger, wrap my tiny fist around your fat cock, and stroke you for a few moments while I suck both of your balls into my mouth. Eventually, you slam your cock back into my throat, elevating me off the desk.
After several minutes of the best blow you have ever had, yet holding off your orgasm, you extricate your cock from my face. You remove the clips from my tits, flick each nipple with your nail again, me squealing in pain. You take each nipple gently into your mouth, sucking them back into some state of normalcy. You unbind the scarf from my breasts, and slap them around a bit. You slip your hand between my thighs once again, ensuring that I have remained wet and that my clit is still fully erect and exposed. You twist and pull again at the clips on my pussy lips before removing them. My lips are red, raw, but aching for more. You spank my twat hard, snickering devilishly. If I could just get you inside me, I can finally get the release I so desperately need.
You grasp my hand and help me off the desk. You sit back in my executive chair and motion to your lap. “Oh, yes, Thomas is letting me straddle his lap,” my mind cheers. Being my favorite position, I am not always allowed to have this great a reward! I lift myself onto your thighs, slide my legs under the arms of the chair. I cup my pelvis forward, grasp your wooden member in my hand, and point it to my slippery cunt. A tilt of my hips back, and I am impaled upon you. I grab hold of the metal bar that frames the back of the chair, and start to grind away, rotating my hips with every movement. I swirl slowly, deeply. I can play like this for hours.
You press your hand against my chest and push my upper body away from yours. You now have full access to my neck, breasts, clit. You first tweak and twist at my nipples, earning a strong contraction within my pussy. “So, you like that, do you, Bitch?”
“God, yes! I am your Bitch! I am your Whore! Only YOURS! Forever YOURS,” I breathe, almost inaudibly. Still, you heard, and you smile. You pull me back towards you, kiss me passionately. Though you do not say it, your eyes tell me how much you love me. I am the partner you have been searching for all your life. The yin to your yang.
You push me away again, lick your thumb, and begin to rub it against my abused clit. I try to wriggle away, but you hold me firmly, not allowing for any escape. You flick and twist and pull at my little twat, tiny squeals of pain escaping from me. But with how my pussy clutches you, you know I welcome the abuse.
You pull me up again and press my head downward to your chest. I know you love your nipples tortured as much as I do, so I am pleased to serve you. I suck on one while twisting and yanking on the other. I feel the thick log in my cunt twitch and grow fuller. You firmly grasp my hips and slide me back and forth on your pulsating cock. You bend your head forward to suck my tits while I continue to tug and pull at your nipples. I feel contractions welling up from deep inside my groin, and you feel me tighten around your prick. “You love that cock in you, don’t you? Just grinding away on that cock, feeling it buried deep inside. The head slamming into you, can’t get in any further. And your hard little clit, rubbing against me. You want to cum, don’t you? You need to cum, don’t you? Come on, tell me what you want, tell me what you need. Beg me for it!”
“Please, Thomas, let me come. Let me cum for you,” I pleaded.
“Not yet.” And you stop again. You can’t keep doing this. I think I may die! “Get off,” you order. “Turn around, and take your position.” I obey immediately.
You walk again to the front of my desk, take the scarf, and bind my hands together, side-by-side, with one end, and tie the other end to the desk. You command that my hands stay flat on the desk, fingers gripping the edge. I am not to stray from this position.
You return behind me and smack my ass several times. My juices flow once again, now sliding down my stockings. You take your prick in your hand and stroke the head up and down my slit. You press forward, sliding again into my raw pussy. I moan with pleasure. “Don’t get too comfortable. You know where I want to put him.” My body tingles at the thought. You pull out of my slot, rub the head and shaft against me once again, lubing well with my juices. Then, as yearned for all night, you press the head of your cock against my ass. One small thrust, and your head enters my most private area. Forbidden to move, I simply wince with pain. You cannot move too suddenly, or my body will forcefully reject you. So you gently slide more and more of your tool into my constricted hole. Once fully in, you withdraw a bit, then press in again. Just those few small movements ease my body into accepting you completely. You lean forward, brush my hair with your lips, kiss my back, trailing along the spine with your fingertips. You know I am completely yours.
“Do you know how much I love you, Thomas?” I ask.
“Hopefully half as much as I love you, Kat,” you whisper back in my ear.
You reach a hand around to my neck, tilting my head back by my chin, my back arched, but my arms never straying from my requisite position. You work harder on my ass for some time, thrusting in fully, nearly withdrawing. “I can feel that head just pop past your hole, so tight around that cock. God, you get me so hard! The bigger I get, the tighter your ass gets, squeezing me. I am going to pound you so fierce, and you are going to cum for me.” You reach around the front of me, spreading my legs apart with your hand. Your middle finger flicks my twat, both wet and raw at the same time. You furiously twist, pull, and rub my burning clit. If my juices start to dry at all, you spank my ass violently until you feel me begin to drip again, then continue the assault on my clit. Every pinch causes me to grip you harder, causing your cock to thicken even more. You violate my ass harder and deeper than I thought possible. Knowing you are close pushes me to the edge. You twist my twat, fingernail grazing the exposed head. You once more grasp me around the throat, and I am at the cliff’s edge.
Through ragged breath, I desperately plead, “My love, please let me cum! I need to cum! I can’t take any more! Please, please, I beg you, PLEASE!”
“Yes, cum now. Cum for me. That’s it. That’s it. Cum for me.” And the burning shoots forth from my clit, my pussy, my ass, my tits, my neck. A deep, guttural growl explodes from the depths of my throat. Out of breath, I shake, quake, my knees buckle below me. But my arms never move. In the midst of my orgasm, your cock thickens and hardens within my bowels. You grab both of my hips and pound your cock inside my ass until your spine stiffens, and you lose all control. Your body convulses, thrusting into my hole with each contraction. I feel your hot cum shoot into my body, still gripping you tight. Delirious, I collapse onto the desk, utterly spent. You fall over me, mouth nuzzling my neck and hair. Tears of ecstasy stream down my face. “I love you, Kat.” I am now complete.
You reach over, pick up a towel, holding it beneath you, you slowly withdraw from my body, spurring on one final contraction within me. You take another towel, wipe me gently, clean me tenderly, but thoroughly. I have still not moved. You tell me I must remain in this position for another 30 minutes. Then I can wash myself and redress.
You stand in front of me, fastening your pants, buttoning your shirt, tying your shoes. I look up at you, face glowing, tears drying on my cheeks. “Thomas, do you realize that no one would ever believe that I could be the way I am with you. I give orders, I don’t take them.”
You wipe away the last tear, kiss me softly, and reply, “That’s why we are so perfect.”
As you finish dressing, you ask, “Your house, tomorrow night, for the big game?”
“Most definitely. What’s your time frame?”
“Megan will be back from her mom’s by about 5:00, so we will be over by 6:00. Tell John if he gets some more of that micro-brew we had last time, I’ll bring the steaks for grilling. Oh, and that I can’t wait to see my guys slaughter his boys on the field.”
“Don’t forget to bring the girls. I haven’t seen them in so long, it seems. I miss their hugs!”
Coleen is a writer, photographer and film maker at Wasteland and Sssh.com.
Here at BDSMCafe.com, she is editor and curator of this comprehensive library of BDSM fiction, informational articles and other educational features that date back to the early days of the internet in 1996 when the site was first launched.
