Confession And Consequences

It was something I was reluctant to reveal to anyone. How do you tell someone you want to be tied up, spanked, and used for another's pleasure? To be teased, explored and controlled? How do you explain to someone that the very act of agreeing to something like this causes arousal?

Well, you don't. Or, at least I have not figured out how. You give hints. You write it in stories or bring it up in little ways, and hope that your partner sees it in you and matches your desire with his own. Which is why, when asked directly, I found that I could not confess this desire.

I lied. That dishonest response, however, burned within me until I could no longer contain it. Submissives do not have skills in deception. They tell the truth and accept whatever comes of it. Their very nature is revealing. It is their sensitivity and ability to respond honestly that makes them unique. Each and every response is a sacrifice: a gift to their partner.

I could not live with it another moment. Confession became my compulsion. I sent a note to my partner admitting my deception and then waited, sure it would be too much for him. His response was swift and reassuring, acknowledging how difficult it must be to talk about and expressing his understanding. I was flooded with both relief at his acceptance and a sense of peace at no longer having any secrets. Which is why, several days later, I was taken completely by surprise.

We had been dating for a while and routinely met for outdoor lunches on our afternoons off. Today, we had an outdoor picnic planned in the mountains, a relatively short drive away. He drove us to a remote location, and after a short hike we came to a clearing with a fabulous view. I spread out the blanket and began to unpack the basket we brought along.

Lunch was an assortment of fruits, cheeses, crackers and chilled shrimp. Not too heavy, but immensely satisfying. We cleaned up and continued to sip on the wine, our conversation light and friendly. Stretching out across the blanket side by side, we began to describe the clouds. So far, we had not been intimate and I wondered if today would be the day.

Sometime later, he rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand. His gaze bore into me and drew my attention from the sky. When I made eye contact, I was taken back by his serious intense expression. "You know," he began, as his right hand reached out and caressed my abdomen below my breasts, "I really wanted our first time to be romantic and tender, but you have taken away that choice." My eyes blinked in surprise, the expression on my face one of confusion. "I have to punish you for lying," he continued.

My heart leapt to my throat as the memory of my lie flooded into my consciousness. I was speechless. Did he mean it? Was he capable of it? He paused letting the information sink in. My breathing quickened along with my heart rate and I felt the warmth spread quickly through me. "Do you understand what I am saying?" he asked. I nodded, unable to speak. His eyes searched my face for consent, taking in my expression and demeanor. Apparently satisfied, he continued, "Take off your clothes and lay face down looking that way."

I looked for reassurance but found none. His face was hardened with determination. I moved to obey as if in a dream. I had imagined that the first time he saw me naked it would be because he had undressed me. I was totally unprepared to strip in front of him. I sat up and pulled my knees up to protect my modesty, then eased my jeans off my hips, rising only enough to allow them to pass over my buttocks. When I had kicked them off my feet, I reached up and took my t-shirt off. Leaning forward into my knees, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra; the last shred of clothing protecting me from what he had planned. When this was removed, I sat for a moment gathering the emotional strength to stretch out as he had instructed. He waited patiently but offered no encouragement or support.

I rolled onto my stomach and turned my head as instructed, resting it on my arms, which were folded to provide a pillow of sorts. My hair covered my shoulders and tickled me slightly as the breeze crossed the clearing. I did not wait long for what he had in mind.

The first blow struck suddenly, it was not too hard, but tears sprung to my eyes. I closed them tightly and did not move. "I have to trust you," he said between the blows that came at irregular intervals. "I am so sorry," I said in short breaths. He was good at this, I thought, as he continued unabated. "I need to be sure," he stated. He alternated between hard and soft, sometimes quickly and sometimes waiting so long, I thought he was finished. I could feel the heat spreading into my pussy. I wiggled slightly as my juices began to flow. "You do like it, don't you?" he stated rather than asked.

I was fully aroused; it was obvious from my low moans and the fluid spilling out onto the blanket, still he continued, the intensity increasing. Every nerve was on fire and I was not sure I would be able to take anymore, when abruptly he stopped and began to massage the area softly. The curious combination of pain followed by caresses brought me to orgasm. His second hand slipped down my slit and his finger entered my pussy sending me over the edge. His fingers felt the tightening of my muscles and scooped to catch the juices that poured out over them.

When the spasms completed, he gently pulled out of me and placed his fingers into my mouth. I licked my own fluid off of his fingers, cleaning them completely. I tasted slightly sweet, a complement to the wine flavor still lingering in my mouth. "Am I forgiven?" I asked. "Pull you knees up," was his only response. I obeyed, lifting my ass in the air while my face remained pressed against the blanket.

I heard him unzip his pants and braced for his assault on my pussy. It did not come, however. Instead, he teased me, running the head up and down the outside of my slit. Brushing my clit but never remaining long enough to sustain the sensation. His finger would occasionally slip into me, but this was vaguely unsatisfying. "Please," I said "I need you in me."

His only response was to back away. "I decide when and how you get fucked. Is that understood?" he said in a tone that made it clear only one answer was acceptable. "Yes, Sir," I replied through gritted teeth. I was desperate to have him in me and maintained my position only with extreme effort.

"Sit up," he ordered, as he backed away. His cock was hovering in front of my face and I reached for it, taking it into my mouth. I felt his hands run through my hair, as I applied myself to pleasing him. I licked and sucked him gently, running my tongue around the tip and pressing it into the opening at the end. My hands cupped his balls and pulled on them lightly. I was enjoying myself. I closed my eyes and worked on him without thought of time. When he pulled away, I felt disappointment at the loss of contact.

He knelt in front of me and reached for my breasts. I leaned back placing my hands behind me for support. "No," he said after a minute of contemplation, "I will not tie you up today, we need more trust, but lay down and put your hands over your head, and don't move." As I positioned myself according to his instruction, I could see that this lifted my breasts upward toward him. His eyes traveled up and down my form, missing nothing.

He reached between my legs and spread them. Again, his hand massaged my pussy while avoiding my clit. I threw my head back in frustration, but kept my thoughts to myself. Then he began to focus on my nipples, beginning with a slow firm massage and culminating in a pinching and pulling pattern that was delivered in the same exquisite timing he delivered my spanking. He did not abate in his efforts for what seemed like an eternity and my moans grew louder and less human as he continued. I needed to have him in me, but did not dare tell him. My behavior was certainly a clue to my desperation.

An orgasm began to build as I lost myself in his attention. Finally he lowered one hand to my clit and began to roll it slightly. The additional stimulation sent me into a series of spasms that took several minutes to complete. I was spent, and yet still needed him in me.

His cock was engorged and I gazed at it wishfully. He locked eyes with me, reading my mind. So far, he had been a model of restraint. I was impressed, but knew now that he could not last any longer. I was right, much to my delight. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders and entered me; any semblance of teasing had now vanished with his need. In that moment when he entered me, I experience an incredible sense of fullness, completeness and relief.

There was no gentleness in his behavior now, only raw passion as he drove himself into me. I matched his motion stroke for stroke, my own need for completion as strong as his. There was no thought about anything, only sensation to be experienced. We were lost together. His hands pressed down on my shoulders forcing me to hold still while he pounded against me. My orgasm built quickly, my muscles tensing against him, and I heard him groan as he released his fluid deep within me. My own voice cried out as I felt him spasm inside of me.

When, sometime later, we finally pulled apart, he looked down at me and said, "You are forgiven."