She lay in bed, quietly listening to him breathing. He'd had a long day, and despite the feelings stirring inside her she decided not to wake him. Instead she rested her head on his chest, and felt the calm rising and falling that accompanied his deep sleep. She wondered what it was he dreamed about as he lay there, his arm draped lovingly around her shoulder. She wondered, too, if she would ever be able to tell him all the things she dreamed up in her own mind. Her tastes ran toward the more... intense... at times, and she was almost embarrassed to admit her own desires. If only there were some way to make him understand the things she couldn't bring herself to explain.
The thought of telling him everything outright was near frightening, and she pushed it to the back of her mind. She concentrated on the feeling of his hand on her skin, the warm flesh of his chest under her cheek. Yet when she closed her eyes, she couldn't help the fantasy she was about to have. It was the sort of thing she could only think about while he was asleep, or when she was alone... or, on occasion, while she herself was in a subconscious dreamland.
She fought the images for awhile, wondering what made her the way she was. She thought of the times when she had tried to ignore the little ideas that had somehow, someway, turned into needs. There were many factors, she imagined, which contributed to her desire to be dominated. She sighed as she remembered conversations she'd had with those involved in the "lifestyle", and felt thankful it wasn't an everyday need. Just sometimes, once in awhile, she wanted more than anything to be controlled.
But that scared her. Not because she didn't trust the man on whose very chest she was resting, but because she loved him. That was putting it mildly. She adored him with every bit of herself. She respected him, and she lusted after him. Many times she wondered what he was even doing there with her, taking perfect care of her, loving her back. She felt inadequate, knowing he deserved the very best. And she often sank into a pool of guilt over her selfish fantasies. He had told her once that everyone has a fetish. Perhaps he was correct in that assessment, though really only the two of them mattered to her. She tried to allow him indulgence where she could, knowing that his own fetish needn't be everyday either. In the end she was just grateful to have a loving and dedicated mate, and she considered herself fortunate.
And yet, those darker thoughts crept into her mind again this night. Finally, she relented, and wrapped her arm around him, closing her eyes. These little fantasies started out much like reality, with his warm kisses on her face and neck, and the hotter, more passionate ones opening her mouth to him. The very idea of being opened started her off though. She wanted to be opened to him, to belong to him, and more importantly, to be claimed by him. She wanted to be taken, not brutally as in some of the rape-type erotica she had read, but firmly. She didn't have a need to be flogged or whipped, and in fact the thought of him doing such made her shudder. But now, almost able to feel his lips on her skin, she sank deeper into her fantasy.
He would have her on her back, she was completely comfortable that way. Being her own fantasy she took certain liberties. And as he kissed her, he would work her nightie upward, running his hand over her body firmly, until he reached her breast. Once there he would squeeze it, kneading it against his palm. He would continue to kiss her, forcefully now, and she would respond with fevered moans and arch her back against his strong hand. She would wrap her arms around his neck, holding him close against her, until he wrapped his hand tight around her wrist and pinned it to the mattress beneath them. Here she would moan loudly, feeling a sudden rush of dampness between her legs. Inside her own head, she could hear herself begging for more, pleading... needy. But she would say nothing. The only sounds to escape her throat would be the whimpers and moans she could not hold in. She prayed he would know.
Then, he would move away from her, and she would hear him reaching in the darkness, wondering what he might be doing, wishing he was still on top of her now, her legs trembling with excitement. And then, all at once he returned. She couldn't see much, but felt him wrapping a rubbery strap around her wrist. For a moment, she thought of fighting him, just to make things interesting. But then, realizing that she wanted this far too much to fight, she forced her body to relax. He took her other hand and strapped it snugly to the first, and as he began to tie them both to the headboard, she opened her mouth. She might have been about to protest, not even knowing what to say, but he cut her short with a very soothing "shhh" in the darkness. "Be a good girl" he gently whispered to her, and her knees went weak.
She was now at his disposal, and his mercy. Fear was the furthest thing from her mind, and now, as he resumed his nibbling at her neck, she bit her lip to keep from squealing with pleasure. Her hands twisted in their new restraints, tugging slowly as she checked her bounds. Her excitement grew tenfold as she realized that she was really incapable of freeing herself. He'd worked his way to her breasts now, and as he sucked a nipple into his mouth she nearly stopped breathing. She could feel herself moaning again, more than she could hear it, and she turned her head against her immobile arm. Her body moved helplessly beneath him, and as he continued to toy with her now aching nipple, she thought she felt him smile a little. It didn't matter, he could have been out and out laughing... she was already in a state of bliss. She arched her back once more in a vain attempt to elicit more pressure from his mouth. Again she was quiet while in her mind she begged him to bite down, just enough to make it hurt a little bit. She dared not ask. But this time, he read either her mind or the signal her body was sending, and as his teeth slowly tightened their grip on her swollen nipple, her body shook with her first orgasm.
She wanted to beg, "please more please I need it please please don't stop", but she couldn't make the words come out. All she could do was moan in ecstasy, and pray he would give her more. He released his grip and her breast fell back against her body, a bit tender now from his long and steady tooth hold on it. She was still panting and half moaning as he kissed her throat, his arm wrapped around her tightly, holding her closer to him. In the darkness he whispered calmly to her, "you're mine". And that was the very thing that she adored about him, the way he made her feel safe and protected. "You belong to me" he told her, as though she hadn't known it already. She couldn't speak, only nod her head in agreement.
His hands began to move over her body again, touching her gently, rubbing her shoulders and neck, and finally coming back to the breast that now was perfectly sore. He held it in his hand for a moment, kissing her mouth, her kissing him back intently. Then he lowered his mouth again to her nipple, this time licking and sucking carefully rather than biting. His mouth was soothing now, his tongue gently urging her back toward another orgasm. She wanted desperately to hold him close to her, to wrap her hands around the back of his neck and keep him there until she came, but her hands were bound above her head, and though she twisted in her restraints more diligently now, she was still not able to free herself.