Anna

We had already been lovers for several months, and we were having a great time. We actually really loved each other. For Anna it was the first time she had really fallen in love. For me it wasn't, but it sure was good. I had known Anna for years, seeing her at shows here and there in town, but I always thought she was bored with me. Turned out she was just shy. I had just assumed that someone with tattoos like hers and shorts that short must be aloof rather than just plain shy, but I was mistaken.

Whenever we'd see each other, if I weren't with another woman at the time (as for her, she never seemed to appear in public with anyone she seemed to be lovers with), I'd ask her if she wanted to meet me for coffee the next day. She'd always decline, but she'd invite me to a party that was happening later that evening, or a punk rock show or something. Not being a fan of loud parties or punk rock shows, I'd always say maybe I'd show up, then I wouldn't. Finally one time she accepted my invitation to dinner, and that was it. If I had understood what was going on, I would have come to one of those parties years before.

Months went by, most of which I spent on the road, but a good bit of it with Anna. We had lots of great sex. As far as I could tell, she wasn't the voracious, proactive sort who was obviously enjoying every second and having a constant stream of loud orgasms. She was quieter, more subdued, but clearly intent on taking anything I had to give her. She wasn't frail, she had muscles born of a childhood spent playing soccer and riding a bicycle every day, but she was small, thin, the definition of petite, she often shopped for clothing in the children's section of the store because that's what fit her little body.

When we got into bed, she was always ready for anything. Wet or dry, she was on her back and prepared for whatever I had in mind. Whether I felt like being gentle or rough, she didn't mind, she always seemed content with it. If we had sex for a half hour and then I fell asleep, or if I wanted to fuck her until she was raw, she was into it. Sometimes the next day she'd be limping a bit, but she never complained. I had to start to figure out on my own that she wasn't going to ask for what she might want, and I decided it was in both of our best interests if I took it upon myself to make sure she was at least well-lubricated for whatever we were going to do, once I realized that this was my responsibility or no one's.

Though we were having a very good time in and out of bed, I always had a sneaking feeling that sexually something was missing for Anna, that I was perhaps a bit boring for her. I thought of other lovers I had had, especially the insatiable, multi-orgasmic sorts, and how pleased they generally had been with me. They were bored with all the men they'd had sex with who would come after a few minutes, and happy when they found someone who was not only a good conversationalist, but could shag for hours. One wouldn't think that this combination of skills should be so rare, but it always seemed to be rare enough that meeting a man who didn't engage in premature ejaculation was something to be celebrated.

But with Anna, well, I was still trying to figure out what made her tick, what was behind this sense I got that she was a bit bored, humoring me. Then one day she sent a text message to my phone. "You know, you can do ANYTHING you want to me." My first thought was, yes, I know, and I do, but this is a nice text message anyway for sure. Then I realized, slowly, what her message meant. This was code, and it suddenly clicked.

I had been reading up on Wikipedia about BDSM just the other day. One of the bits in there that struck me was that out of all the many people who are into the particular sexual roleplay of domination and submission, there are always far more people into playing the submissive. There were always, apparently, a backlog of bored submissives waiting for their dominants to come along, and never enough of the latter. To compound the shortage, there was the stigma. Anna had waited months before even sending me this coded message, for fear of alienating me, as had happened in the past with her and other guys.

I suddenly felt a rush of pleasure, and realized I was definitely the guy Anna had been looking for. I went shopping.

That evening we were back at Anna's apartment, smoking various substances and talking about the day. "Take your clothes off and lie down on the bed," I said with no warning. Anna wasn't surprised, but looked at me a bit quizzically, as if she was thinking about refusing to see what I might do then, but decided better of it. Perhaps she thought if she refused, I wouldn't insist. She didn't want to take that risk. She took her clothes off, one skimpy garment at a time, lay down on her bed, and looked at me, her silent gaze clearly asking the question, what next...?

Before Anna got home, I had already tied ropes to the bedposts. I took one wrist, wrapped one strap around it, and then the other. Then one ankle, then the other. Then I pulled the straps tight, one at a time, so she could move a bit, but not much. I had not touched her aside from her wrists and ankles, but she was breathing more heavily already. In fact, she was probably about as excited as I had ever seen her, and we were only just beginning.

With Anna I always felt like I was too vanilla, but I was never quite sure why. Even if I was pretty rough with her I still felt somehow too gentle, and I always felt hesitant about being as affectionate as I really wanted to be. I loved her, and I wanted to kiss her gently, lovingly, but I thought I'd bore her with that sort of behavior. But with her splayed on the bed naked like that, all tied up and uncovered, I suddenly felt more affectionate than ever, and with no more hesitation about it. Whereas normally I might feel that by taking my time to appreciate her gorgeous body I was being boring, and I'd get the feeling that I should get on with it and do something more manly, now I felt none of that. I felt I could do as I wished. And what I wished then was to explore every inch of her beautiful, young, lean body.

Tied there to the bed, I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. Long, deep kisses. When she seemed tired of kissing me, I kissed her some more, because I felt like kissing her. Her skin was so smooth, with only the slightest creases here and there. I played with her thin, wispy blonde hair, her very light blonde hair that testified to the fact that she was and always will be Scandinavian. I kissed and licked around her collarbone, so clearly-defined atop her muscular body, with hardly an ounce of fat for a collarbone to hide behind.

Anna had said that she wished she had larger breasts. Unlike many women with smaller breasts, hers weren't particularly sensitive, and I had often felt before like I was being too self-indulgent if I dwelled too long on them. But now I didn't care, and I played with them, explored them, bit them, licked and sucked on them until I felt like I had had enough, at least for the moment.

I moved on to her abdomen, and remembered how when she wasn't tied up, it would be by this point, or even sooner, that she would be making physical movements indicating that she was ready to fuck. Afraid to be too vanilla for my punk rock lover, I often abandoned foreplay at this point and fucked her as she seemed to want. But not this time. Perhaps she felt vulnerable when I explored her stomache as I liked to. It is, it seems, where the soul is hidden, this delicate part of the body below the rib cage where so many of the organs are to be found. It is a soft place, but in Anna's case, covered by a shell of muscle. I mushed my face into her stomache and just nestled there for a while, soaking in her silky flesh, and the muscles and organs beneath it.

I marveled at her legs, her bicycle legs, her Copenhagen legs, those legs she shares in common with thousands of other beautiful Danish women, those legs that speak volumes about good urban planning, those legs that say we live in a society with lots and lots of bike lanes. Those legs that say I am your legs, do with me as you will.

By now Anna's heavy breathing had moved beyond just her lungs. No longer was it just her chest expanding and contracting, but her whole body was rising and falling, in particular her pelvis. "Fuck me," she said.

"Calm down," I replied. Her body shuddered at this command, her breathing became more intense, but she willed herself to be more still, to do as she had been told. "OK," she said obediently.

I started licking the area around her pussy. First exploring each side of each section of her little pink labia, the entrance to her tight little vaginal tunnel, that soft spot of skin right where her little wisp of blonde pubic hair began. I began teasing her clit, a little, here and there. She was already wetter than I had ever seen, at least from her own natural lubricants. Her clit, which normally did eventually respond to stimuli, was clearly on a hair-trigger, shivering with each touch of my tongue. I licked her a bit and then took a break to explore her breasts, her stomache, her lips, and then licked her a bit more. I licked her until her body was becoming tense, that certain kind of tension that says an orgasm may soon be approaching.

Then I stopped. I stopped to revel in that tension. That wonderful tension that is like the gift of life, that electric tension that says, more clearly than anything else, "I want you, I want more."

As a performer, you want to play with any energy that says "I want more." You want to cultivate that energy with every song. You want your audience to think, that ballad was so good I want to hear another one. But then you do satire instead. And when they want more satire, you do a love song. When they've really gotten the chorus down, the song is over. When they're really geared up for a great third set, they find the concert ended with the second one. You leave them wanting more.

Anna was wanting more, moreso than ever. Ignoring her clit now, I explored her lithe body all over again. After a while I thought it was time for a cigarette break. I went to the living room and brought back some tobacco, rolled a cigarette and lit it, while I looked at Anna lying there beneath me. I knew she wanted some, so I put it to her mouth to give her a drag. I caressed her body while I smoked, enjoying the combination of pleasures. I touched her clit with my fingers, quickly rekindling her desire. Then I untied her.

"Put your panties on and eat me," I said. Very briefly she looked surprised, like things were going in a slightly unexpected direction. She had some very sexy panties, and I liked to look at her in them. That's what I wanted, so that's what I asked for. She may have wanted many different things, and putting on her panties may not have been anywhere on the list, but it was what I wanted, and suddenly it was what she wanted, too. She dutifully got off of the bed briefly, reached for some low-cut panties, and standing beside the bed, put one leg at a time into them. She pulled them up and over her pussy with a bit of difficulty - not physical difficulty, but difficulty born out of that contradiction between conflicting desires. Her pussy was so warm and so wet, almost shouting for it's freedom, but now it was entirely covered by a fairly thick cloth all around it, hidden.

She crawled back onto the bed and did as she was told. She didn't caress me, kiss me, or any of that sort of thing - she hadn't been told to. She had been told to put her panties on and eat me, and that's just what she did. Without words, I guided her into the 69 position. Each of us lying on our sides, she ate me eagerly while I held her lean little waist in my hands and looked at her undulating panties. As she ate me, her legs would part and then close, involuntarily, it seemed, as if they were hoping to shed themselves of the cloth that was now bordering her thighs, to no avail.

After a time I thought it would be nice to be on top of her, inside of her, feeling her taut beneath me, with my arms wrapped so easily around her, with my dick pushing deep inside her again and again. "Take your panties off," I instructed. She did, slowly, pretending as if she were reluctantly following orders. I enjoyed the act, though that's obviously what it was. There will be more acting, I thought, I like that. But not quite yet. For now, I thought, I'll give her a little of what she so intently desires. But just a little.

It was odd, laying on top of her, going inside of her, feeling how close she was to me, physically and emotionally. It was a classic sort of vanilla connection, missionary position, gentle, close, loving sex, lots of kissing and holding each other. I moved in and out, rubbing up against her clit, locked up against each other, her legs wide apart, her pussy so wet and excited.

That familiar tension was quickly rising in her body, it was easy to feel. Being the submissive, playing this game, was clearly turning her on in a big way. Next, around the corner, amidst whatever other commands might be coming her way, she knew, was going to be several big orgasms if I kept moving as I was. The first one was seconds away at this point.

"If you're going to come, tell me to stop," I said. This took her by surprise. There is great pleasure to be had from following orders, she knew, but the pleasure was normally something that led to orgasms, a natural process - find what pleases you, such as, for example, playing the submissive with a good dominant, then it makes you come. She was confused and conflicted. Now that her body and my commands were telling her to do very different things, there was a serious conflict of interests. But she knew the rules - do as I say. So she did.

"Stop," she said suddenly. She had waited until the orgasmic wave was just pushing at the floodgates, until it was almost too late. I stopped, knowing that if I continued for another moment she'd come. Neither of us moved. She wanted to move so much, I could feel it in every tense muscle of her flawless, smooth body. But she stayed still, obedient. A tear drifted from one of her eyes. The tension started to subside a little. I started moving a little, but only a little, and kissing her some more, her lips, her cheeks, squeezing her gorgeous, tense body with my hands and arms, biting her nipples, enjoying her quick reactions to every stimuli.

I hadn't really given her time to relax, but I was moving again, slowly. I started moving just a bit faster, but staying close to her body, rubbing up against her clit, knowing this would turn her on a lot. She became more tense, again. "Stop," she said quickly, holding her breath at the same time, as if holding her breath would also hold onto the orgasm, the orgasm that was pounding from within her, screaming to come out, making her pale skin become a bit more pink.

I stopped. It was definitely time to chill out a little bit. I lay on top of her, a bit to the side, just feeling her hesitant breathing. I caressed her beautiful face, licked my sweat off of her breasts. We smoked a bit together, leaning on pillows, still connected. I put the cigarette out, moved the ashtray aside, and started moving faster inside her. Anna was doing her best to be resigned to her fate, to do as she was told, but suddenly the waves were crashing inside her and she was about to burst.

"I'm coming," she said. I could feel it, too - her body was completely tense, like a dam with the waters about to cause a hairline fracture. It was an intriguing moment. Tuned in to her delicate little electrified body, it was clear, there was that moment where she's about to come. She had said, "I'm coming," but she really didn't quite mean that. What she meant was "I'm about to come, please don't make me stop."

I quickly withdrew from her and sat up on the bed, just in time to watch Anna writhe in a pre-orgasmic haze that didn't quite become an orgasm. "You're coming?" I asked. The blood was pulsing in her face and in her pussy, her breath was short, she was almost hyperventilating. "No," she said.

"You almost came without permission, Anna. You should be punished." With an ecstatic shudder, Anna wholeheartedly agreed.

I tied her wrists back to the bedposts and rolled her onto her side. I reached for the heart-shaped leather paddle I had recently acquired, along with the ropes. I've never particularly understood why some people like to be spanked, but Anna was clearly one of them. Each time the paddle swiftly met her lovely buttocks there was an excited, fast intake of breath. After a while the gasps were followed by groans, and I retired the paddle to allow her stinging flesh to recuperate.

I rolled her over to face me and admired her beautiful body before me, wrists above her head on either side of her, tied to posts. I tasted her flesh from her breasts to her pussy, and licked her wet clit a bit. She was as sensitive as ever, the spanking having only intensified her desire.

"Do you want to come?" I asked. Of course, I knew that Anna probably wanted nothing at the moment more than coming. But when you can create a contradiction between what a submissive wants and what her partner wants, the most attractive option is always going with what her partner wants.

"No," she lied, her voice trembling.

I licked her slowly, perusing her clit, licking her labia, caressing her thighs and her belly. Gradually I licked her more intensely until she was breathing hard and suddenly said, "stop." My tongue wandered around her body, and eventually returned to her pussy. I started licking her slowly again until she stopped me. I then repeated the process.

By now Anna was dripping. "Do you want me to fuck you really hard?" I asked. The thing is that I'm a bit big for Anna when we're doing that. Also, she has clitoral orgasms, so she doesn't tend to come when she's on all fours.

"Yes," she answered with an enthusiastically trembling voice. The prospect of being fucked hard, the challenge of it, the pleasing of me, the denial of her clit, the contradiction, all seems to turn her on as much as it does me.

I untie her wrists so she can roll over. She moves around onto her knees. I enter her from behind, and move in and out of her. I hold tight to her waist and fuck her harder. Anna winces into the pillow, and I fuck her more. "Come," she requests, and I do.

Quivering beside me on the bed, Anna asks if I'd like some coffee. Looking at me demurely, she puts her panties back on and walks towards the kitchen.