She had been waiting for this moment for so long. Months of anticipation, exchanging pictures and texts and longing to finally get to play with him.
For her, the yearning to give up control had been growing and she was eager to finally be able to meet. Why did she find BDSM so intoxicating. Power exchange felt so primal and lustful, she always got such a high from it. It seemed so unlike her as well, she was confident, self assured, loud and proud and yet the desire to submit lurked strongly beneath the surface. She longed to be stripped of power and control and to be used. She longed for the freedom and release it would give her, longed to not have to worry about anything except being in the moment. She also had darker thoughts and desires, to be used and abused, degraded, humiliated, punished and tortured. She liked playing with these dark desires, she liked pushing herself with how much she could take. Liked the feeling of being a toy to be used or a victim to punish. She loved the feeling of her identity being stripped away and rebuilt. Loved to see how much pain she could take and how far she could go.
And so here was a chance to play, with someone who clearly had similar desires and she was excited.
The instructions were simple, you will wait for me to come home. You will wear only a black thong, you will be kneeling in the centre of the room with your back to the door. She rolled her eyes as she read them. She craved domination but she found it so frustrating, she hated being told what to do. How amusing that it was her strongest desire and she loathed it.
She was nervous and unsure of what was going to happen. She was also conflicted, waiting on her knees seemed so weak and submissive and it was hard for her to get into the right space to be such a willing submissive. She usually didn't like to go down without a fight. However, she knew she wanted this, knew that as much as she found it degrading it turned her on. And so she got ready and knelt on the floor and waited. The anticipation built and built, as she shifted and flexed on her knees, shivering in both excitement and fear.
She heard footsteps and took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to stay calm. The door opened and closed and he entered the room. He took a moment to admire the scene and savour the silence knowing she would be nervous.
Good girl. He said as he approached her and knelt down behind her, running his hands around her waist and up over her tits. He grabbed and pulled on them, lifting their weight and letting them drop. He pinched her pierced nipples, hard and she moaned and leaned back into him arching her back savouring the sensation. He kept pulling and twisting her nipples and she moaned in pleasure and pain, arching her back and pushing her chest forwards.
She was so turned on already, she couldn't help but spread her thighs and arch her back, her pussy already dripping wet and so needy.
He squeezed and crushed her nipples and kneaded the flesh of her breasts before slapping them hard. She moaned, shocked. He kept slapping them harder and harder and and was wriggling around trying to stay still. He slapped her thighs hard, each slap landing closer and closer towards her pussy. 'Fuuuck' she panted.
'Spread your legs' he instructed.
She hesitated, unsure whether this meant good news or bad news for her. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and tugged hard, forcing her head back.
'I won't ask again'.
She shivered, taking a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could feel that delicious energy exchange, the memorising slow dance of power and submission, the flow of control and it felt so good, she gave into it and shuffled her thighs wide apart.
He kept hold of her hair a while longer and slowly traced his fingers down her exposed neck before wrapping them around her throat. It was only a few seconds that she couldn't breathe, but it was enough. She sank down, humbled and was quiet and still. He kept his hand placed lightly around her throat, and the other hand made its way down her body, over her tits, down her belly and rested on the top of her pussy.
She bit her lip, quivering.
He stroked her over her thong, harder and harder, knowing he was teasing her. She was desperate to be touched, desperate to feel those fingers touching her skin. He pulled hard on her thong, pulling it upwards so it cut up into her ass and wedged between her lips. She groaned. He kept pulling on it, she tried to move her body up with it to lessen the pressure but with his hand on her throat she could nowhere. She was frustrated.
He stopped pulling the thong but left it where it was and slapped her pussy hard. She cried out, breathing hard. He slapped her again, and again, holding her down by her throat. She could do nothing but try and moan and breathe through the pain.
He could feel how wet she was and how much the slapping was stimulating yet hurting her. He moved his hand up from her throat and put it firmly over her mouth and slapped even harder, her screams were now muffled and they sounded so good.
She writhed and struggled and screamed and it was such an effort to keep her legs spread, but she did. The hand over her mouth felt so good and she was able to scream without worrying about anyone hearing anything too troubling.
Her breathing was fast and her eyes were watering. He stopped slapping and traced his finger along her slit.
