You walk into the room and smile. Everything is prepared just how you want.
You look over and give me a simple smile that lets me know I have done a good job.
Walking over to me you take hold of my wrists, applying the pressure you know lets me know my control is now over.
I lower my head and take in the sight of you holding my wrists. I want to ask what is in store for today. I know it would be pointless. I know you will tell me when I pay for my mistakes. Even if I do not know what they are. I know you will do what you want. Giving me the pain, you know I desire. Before you allow me to give you pleasure.
Without out a word you pull me over to the couch. When you turn to face me, you release one of my wrists and roughly grab me by my hair before pulling me to you. Forcing me to kiss you.
I want so much to reach out and touch you. I know I would only be punished more. The last time I touched you without your permission the bruises on my arse took weeks to fade.
Pulling me away, you twist me around so I am facing away from you. Still holding on to my wrist.
Your hand releases my hair only to grip onto my neck forcing me to bend over the couch.
Without being told, I move my free hand and place it on the couch above my head.
I am sure you are smiling. Well, I am assuming you are. You took your time in training me. I know my cues without you needing to tell me.
You release my other hand and I automatically bring it above my head. In my head, I am remembering when you trained me to do this, reassuring me with every move I make. I remember longing to hear you tell me I was your good slut.
I keep my hand still, waiting for the moment I know is coming.
I can feel you standing behind me. Your eyes taking in the sight of me bent over. You leave me waiting. You know how impatient I can get things to start. Wondering if you are going to start with pleasure or pain. You know I don't mind either.
"Move," you tell me. I know with the way you whisper the word, I have displeased you.
Are my hands in the wrong place? Were my legs not far enough apart?
I glance quickly at my hands and know they are just where you have instructed me so many times to place them. My stomach drops. I know... you want to use the ankle spreaders.
Moving my feet further apart. I hope that it is enough for you.
I feel your hands move over my body, down my back, stroking softly. Just the way you know I adore. Tracing the lines of my tattoos. Taking your time. I try so hard not to move. I fail.
I try my hardest not to make a sound as I feel one of your hands leave my back. I know without question what is in store for me as I feel your hand gripping my hair again pulling my head up from the couch.
You don't say a word to me. Just force me to look in your eyes as your other hand continues its way down my back to my arse, never leaving contact with my skin. No longer stroking now, but sliding. No longer taking the time to feel your way over my skin.
When you reach your goal, you grab a handful of my left arse cheek, squeezing. Allowing your nails to dig in. You see the look of calm that comes over my face. You have given me the pain I want and crave from your hands.
The touch that reminds me I am yours.
I was not expecting what came next.
You lean down and kiss me.
"Who owns your body?" you whisper to me, pulling away leaving me breathless.
I try so hard to keep my legs straight and apart. It was the kind of kiss that shows the affection you have for me. The kiss you save for the end of our play times. My reward for pleasing you.
I am unsure if you want me to answer until I feel your grip change on my hair. No longer pulling my head up.
In an instant, I lay my head back on the couch, but keeping my face turned toward you. Fully aware I can now see you moving away from my field of vision. Your grip on my arse has not changed.
I can tell you want a reaction from me. I refuse to make a sound.
I feel your other hand softly touch my other cheek. Teasing the tender skin.
You reach between my legs, cupping your hand over my hot pussy. You can feel my wetness through my knickers.
You must be pleased with the way my body has responded to you so far. I am now aware that the tight grip you had on my right cheek has changed to softly stroking. I think you are taking in the marks your nails left on me.
I feel the fingers of your right hand pushing my underwear to the side to gain access to my clit.
You barely touch me, just skim.
I want to moan, but I know that uttering a sound now will mean I will suffer.
When I was setting the room up earlier, I made sure to leave your paddles within easy reach of the couch. Everything is just where I know you like. In the order you usually use them.
I have a feeling that today I would be wrong to assume there was going to be an order to things.