Thwack! The soft leather whip left another bright red line on woman's tender rump. The pain from the stroke weakened her legs enough that for a few seconds her full weight hung from the pulley. Spasms quivered up from the base of her spine to the top of her skull. A raspy moan just escaped her lips as her eyes rolled up into her head. The fireworks had to be going off pretty good in there. I was on a roll.
Woman regained a bit of composure and was again able to balance on her toes. I took a moment to critique my progress. The strip of welts across her bottom provided the viewer with a lifelike depiction of crimson colored Venetian blinds. I scraped my nail from one corner of her rump to the other. Each time I crossed a line of damaged flesh, woman flinched from the golden flash of pain brought by my Midas touch. This was some of my best work ever.
"Enough of that for now," I pronounced.
I set my whip down on the dresser where the toys are kept. What next? I glanced over at my subject. It took a few moments for the vision of the art hiding beneath her surface to make its self-evident. With a smile on my face, I unfastened the strap that kept my favorite blade in its sheath. It was a beautiful dagger, solid silver with a smooth onyx handle. The black dragon the artisan carved at the base look ready and willing to inflict injury. I held the knife across woman's cheek and pulled her head back as far as I could. I made sure she could see the razor sharp edge of the blade glinting in front of her eyes.
"We're going to get cut today. I don't want to hear a sound out of you. We wouldn't want me to slip, would we."
She shivered at my words. I like a sub with a good imagination. Slowly, I drew the dagger down the front of her body between her breasts. Its tip left light white marks mapping the circles I scratched around her erect thumb sized nipples. The trail was flanked by a wake of goose bumps that proved that the experience was quite pleasurable. I etched more artwork down her squirming body. The leather chaps I wore were starting to rub uncomfortably against my increasingly erect penis. I edged my weapon toward her sensitive clitoris.
"Brinnnng," The sound cut through my focus as sharply as a razor. "Brinnnng."
"Shit," I blurted. I'd forgotten to take care of the phone.
"It has to be Dottie," said my woman hoarsely.
This was not the safe phrase we had agreed upon but the effect was the same. No - not the same; besides calling an end to play, the name of my mother-in-law introduced a suffocating presence that disallowed any connection with the notion of feeling safe. The answering machine kicked in and confirmed wife's suspicions.
"De-aanna. De-aaaaaan-na. Pick up. I need to talk to you right now!" I unceremoniously jerked the quick release freeing my wife to stand flat on the floor. She raced to the phone and answered with her wrists still tied.
