Watching her head snap to the side made me hesitate a moment. She looked shocked for a second then stared at the floor.
“Get up”, I growled but meant it to sound more menacing than it did because I, too, was surprised at the force of the backhand delivered. I could already see the imprint of my hand creeping across her jaw and cheek.
She stands awkwardly while cuffed behind her back. I turn her around forcefully and push her hard into the wall. I can hear the breath escape her briskly. I uncuff her hands and pull her toward me by her hair. When her back slams into my chest I wrap my arm around her neck and grasp her tightly. She struggles momentarily and I hold her wrist firmly to her waist. As she relaxes I squeeze her throat tighter taking care to cut off blood supply and not oxygen. I release her wrist as she leans against me, muscles throughout her body finally allowing her to surrender. I clamp down on her sharply for a few seconds after I notice she has a hard time swallowing then let her go. She bends forward; slightly gasping and I grab her hair in my fingers jerking her back to me again and bite hard into the flesh of the muscle along her shoulder. I’m temporarily overtaken by her scent and realize I have to get her away from me, shoving her to the ground. She is intoxicating; naked from the waist up and as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. On her knees, she immediately brings her hands together at her back and lowers her gaze. We’ve played together for a while now and she has been very well taught.
She is completely mine when we are together. We have little need for words as each of is assured of what the other is thinking. She is undeniably one of the greatest bottoms I’ve ever known. A moderate masochist and always willing to push her limits far beyond what her intellect tells her is possible. She’s highly trusting of me, knows that I will read her nearly perfectly every time. She understands my skills and limits and never tries to play any smart-assed games that are so common in the scene. When I tell her that she can do something, even if she doesn’t think she can, she will try and then undoubtedly succeed. She’s never spoken her safe word but tells me later she was thinking about it sometimes.
It took us quite a while after meeting to actually hook up. We were friends for several years before getting together that first time. I realized right away that she had a lot of untapped submissive potential. The next morning she had called to tell me I’d left her with oval shaped bruises along her back and shoulders, my teeth imprinted to her for the next two weeks. She later admits to looking at them in the mirror every day during this time and beginning to wonder what else she was capable of. What began as fairly mild turned utterly harsh as she began to trust me more. I would mark her body with lashes and welts that kept me with her throughout each passing day.
She and I rarely speak about what goes on between us. Our day-to-day existence is not tempered by the time we spend together in the dark. No one would ever guess that she carries my scars underneath her clothes and we each prefer it that way.
I lean down and whisper close into her ear, “’Red’ means….”?
“Stop”, she replies, finishing the sentence.
“Good. Don’t fuck around but don’t hesitate to use it.”
She nods at the reference to her safe word that we each know will be unused.
I lay out several items within her line of sight if she were to choose to glance upwards. Next to a heavy leather flogger with several knots tied to the tails I place a thick one made of rubber. A light, flat, riding crop and a thin acrylic cane are laid out next to the floggers. She doesn’t dare to look.
She barely moves when I hit her the first time, striking her softly and watching as the knots drop vertically down her back. As the rhythmic tempo increases I can tell she is dropping into the space. I tap her hands once behind her back and she moves them to the front of her body placing them in her lap. When she feels the different flogger she shifts her weight from side to side and I know she’s not quite ready. I try to aim for areas that will subdue her thoughts and not cause too much pain until she can get into the space she needs to allow us to continue. As her chin drops to her chest I begin to hit her harder, the reddened areas marking each tail as it lands along the top of her back. The strikes that fall on her shoulders are heavy with momentum and form brilliant crimson lines easily seen even in the partially darkened room.
I signal her to stand and then guide her to the bed with one hand.
“Strip”, I command and she immediately begins to comply. Like I say, we never waste words.
She strips the bottom half of her body in a flash and continues to stand before me. I make a gesture of gawking at her knowing it makes her uncomfortable. She’s a beautiful woman but insecure in this amazing body. I circle around her, admiring first the hair that flows down her shoulders and spills on to the lines we’ve created on her back then at her exquisite ass which, now too, is marked by our time together. In front of her I admire her breasts – the perfect size and shape for ones mouth or hands. I trace her frame from top to bottom until she sighs lightly and raises her head. I place my hand on the imprint of the same on her cheek and kiss her lightly.
Behind her again, I push her forward gently and encourage her to lie down on her stomach. I walk around to each corner of the antique four-poster and tether each wrist with self-adhesive Ace bandage which is much more binding than cuffing and faster to release one from if need be. I wrap each of her limbs tightly to the wooden frame. She is very into being bound as securely as possible as it allows her to physically push and pull to the limit while her mind does the same.