My eyes open behind the makeshift blindfold. A silk necktie, cool and smooth against my face. I can see a little bit of light, but just a hint of it, around the edges. The blindfold is doing its job. I am supine on a bed, my arms stretched up over my head, my legs stretched out and spread. I pull slightly on my wrists, feeling the heavy leather cuffs, hearing the rattle of the chain. Just enough slack to let me get comfortable, but not enough to move much to either side. I lift one knee and feel the cuff encircling my ankle, securing me to the bed, securing me in place, securing my legs apart. I can almost bring my knees together, almost, but not quite. I hear him laugh softly under his breath, imagine him looking down at me from the foot of the bed. Every inch of me is bared to his gaze, all of me opened up for his scrutiny, all of me the sole focus of his attention. I glow a little, squirm a little, shift my hips and arch my back a little. I hear him draw in a breath. I exhale, pulling my ribs down and rolling my shoulders back.
Something cool touches me just above the cuff on my left ankle. Smooth cool circles trace up my calf. I focus on the shape, the texture of the leather; I recognise the riding crop by how it feels as he glides it up to my knee. A slight pressure on the inside of my thigh and I relax, spread my knees a bit wider for him. The head of the riding crop slaps down sharply on the inside of my thigh. Heat blossoms from the point of contact and I gasp and giggle breathlessly. He traces a circle around where he just hit me, I imagine my skin flushed where he struck. Another blow lands on the inside of my other leg. Symmetry. Balance. I moan and roll my shoulders as he traces around where the pain prickles the tender flesh.
He teases me. Tracing up and down my bared legs, grazing the skin with the cool edge of leather. His hand skims across my stomach, his fingers warm, his touch delicate and delicious. I lift my hips in invitation and he slides the riding crop all the way up to the apex, a breath away from my cunt. The feathery touch of the supple leather makes me pant with anticipation. I know what comes next. Three precise strikes, like stinging hornets land at the very top of the inside of my thigh. I yelp and hold myself still, feeling the blood rush to the area, flooding not just the delicate, tender skin inside my thigh, but into my labia, warmth curling from my stomach outward to my hot, slick flesh. I close my eyes tightly, and concentrate.
I feel myself get wet, I feel the buzzing sensation grow as my body reacts to the pain. Three more stinging strikes, on the opposite leg, and my hips lift all the way off the bed. I am writhing and trying to hold myself still. I pant slightly, waiting for more. A hand heavy on my hip presses me back into the mattress. I shiver at the touch and bite my lower lip. The riding crop circles one of my nipples. I feel the goosebumps rise on my breast and my nipple aches, it is so hard. The hornet sting of a blow landing just to the side of my nipple. I yelp, and my hips buck. His firm grip on my hip holds me down. I blink behind the blindfold, imagine how he looks standing over me, one hand holding me in place, the other raised, crop ready to come down on me when I least expect it. I smile and settle in the bed, waiting.
His fingers dig into the hollow of my hip bone. I arch into his touch without thinking and the riding crop lands on my stomach, the sting blooming red and hot just below my navel. I moan and press my bottom back against the mattress, and the riding crop lands again, just below my breast. My ribs ache and I hiss at the sting. Another blow, and another. Two more in rapid succession, then a third after two heartbeats. My skin blushes at the biting caress of the leather tip, each stinging point flooding with blood, each point of his attention on my body. I breathe deeply through my nose and start to slip under as the pain blooms, uncurls, opens me up.
He lifts his hand from my hip. His mouth comes close; I feel his breath across my stomach. Hot, wet kisses bathe each tingling point of contact where the riding crop kissed me. His tongue swirls around each bright red spot, velvety, firm, wet, hot, soothing. I moan and my back arches slightly. His mouth moves up and he bites down on the soft underside of one of my breasts. I moan again, feeling the sharpness of his teeth, the give of my skin, the pinch as I am caught in between. I slip a little further, the pain soothing the twitching anxiety that pools between my legs.
His hand glides up the inside of my thigh. I feel his fingers trace the welts on the fragile flesh. He barely grazes the soft downy fuzz between my legs and I arch up to meet his hand, pressing myself into his touch. He cups me in the palm of his hand, the touch too broad to soothe the ache that is melting me from the very core. He holds me, pressing his entire palm against my hot, wet cunt, and I roll my hips, desperate for the friction I know he is deliberately withholding. His other hand slaps me sharply on the outside of the thigh, and he lets it press against the hot, palm-shaped spot he just created. His nails dig into my skin, and he drags them down from hip to knee. I buck and mewl, lost and dizzy in the sensation. I manage to gasp out a single word: Please.
He laughs and his weight and warmth disappear. He’s stepped away from the bed. A hand caresses my cheek. I turn my face to nuzzle into the touch. He slips the blindfold off my eyes and smiles down at me. I see him, fuzzy around the edges. He steps out of reach again, walks to the foot of the bed. He kneels down between my knees, one hand on the inside of each thigh. He presses my legs open and lowers his head to me. He exhales warm breath and I shiver. He looks up at me, up from where my legs meet, up the smooth expanse of my stomach, past the swell of my breasts, into my eyes. He maintains eye contact as his tongue presses between the folds of skin and circles my clitoris. I moan at the touch, feeling the heat of his mouth press against me, finally, and I arch my hips to meet his tongue, his kiss, begging him to taste, to lick, to probe every part of me he can reach. He licks me slowly, long, firm strokes, lapping at me. I cannot keep my eyes open at the onslaught. I close them tight and arch up to meet his mouth with my cunt, opening to him.
He nuzzles at me, his tongue dipping inside and his nose pressing against my clit. He bites down gently on the swollen, tender flesh, and I mewl again, the pain blending perfectly with the heady swirl of pleasure that is building in my stomach. I feel him dip two fingers into me, pressing, spreading me, his tongue following them inside, licking me deeper and I drift away completely. I feel him pull back, feel his teeth graze my thigh, feel him bite down hard. There is no pain this time. I laugh at the sensation, roll my hips up to meet his hand, pressing myself against him, begging him to touch me as deeply as he can. He wiggles his fingers slightly and I laugh and wiggle my hips a little in response. He licks slow circles around my clitoris as he moves his fingers in and out. I pant and moan softly, feeling the muscles in my abdomen begin to tighten. I focus on the points where the crop kissed me, feel the hot sting and the cool air make my skin prickle.
He savages me with his tongue, licking me ferociously, biting down and sucking hard on my clit. I let out a scream muffled by a laugh as I let go of the tension, my limbs shaking as I orgasm around his fingers, clenching him tightly inside me, bucking against his mouth, wanting his tongue to touch every hot, slick, throbbing part of me.
The trembling gradually subsides and he pulls his fingers out of my cunt. The sensation of him pulling out of me shakes me with the aftershock of my orgasm. The cuffs are unhooked and he rolls me onto my side. He settles me against him, my back to his chest, his arm wrapped around my midriff, his breath on the back of my neck. I drift slowly back into focus, snuggle closer to him, and let him hold me till I fall asleep.
