From Vanilla to Rocy Road

She is beautiful – petite, long dark hair, flashing dark eyes, slender and athletic. She is in her early 30’s, married for a few years, bored… her husband is busy and successful at his career, and things have become quite routine for them, at home and especially, in bed. She could almost SCREAM at his predictable approach – the kiss on the throat, hand on her breast…

She craves something else, and has been afraid to admit it to herself.

It’s a baby step, to cross the line. How dangerous can an internet chat be, after all? She’s anonymous, she’s safe to play on line, saying whatever she wants and teasing the men who show interest. She is a vixen, a virgin, a slut… she loves the roles she plays, still wanting…something…

A different man shows an interest. He doesn’t ask the typical “are you hot?” and “do you have big tits?” kinds of questions… those questions that all the 17 year olds ask the older women, in chat rooms. No, he’s articulate, he has an artist’s mind, and she finds herself drawn to him. He asks questions that lead her to reveal herself, reveal her desires… dark as they may be, she wants to be dominated; she finally admits it to herself, and to him.

“Yes” he says “I knew it all along. You want to be taken, to be overpowered…” “Yes,” she admits. This is what she’s been missing – her husband, always careful of her feelings, doesn’t bring his animal nature into their lovemaking – it’s too “nice” and it’s not doing it for her. She craves it rough, dirty…

“Meet me….”

= Will she do it? She agonizes for days, but when the time comes, she goes. They plan to meet at the Hotel. She tells herself, well, it’s still a public place – he can’t axe murder me there. She cannot resist – she’s drawn to the experience, anticipating what’s to come…

They meet in the bar. He’s in his mid-50’s, distinguished and successful, well-dressed. He looks her over from head to toe when she walks in – she shivers, nipples hard. She’s dressed in a long dress, 100 buttons from neckline to hem, carefully buttoned. “Wear something I can rip off you,” he told her, as they were planning this date. Underneath, a camisole and thong, garter and stockings…

They shake hands, small-talk as he orders her a drink. He brushes his hand down her back and pulls her closer. She smiles, she’s wet already. He looks at her, kisses her… gently, then tongue, insistent. She gasps. “Let’s go upstairs, ok?”

His room has been carefully prepared. Champagne chilling, soft jazz on the stereo, the bed laid out with silk scarves, tiny clamps, a riding crop…

She examines everything without touching anything, while he pours the champagne. She quickly drinks and sets the glass down. He reaches for one of the silk scarves, and approaches her. He takes her by the arms, and kisses her again, deeply. Then he wraps the scarf over her eyes and ties it.

“Just stand there,” he orders, and vulnerable, she does as she’s told. He circles her, lightly touching her, looking her over. Then, when her anticipation is at its peak, he fondles her breasts and grabs the edges of her dress and in one motion, rips it off her body, all 100 buttons flying everywhere. Now he looks her over even more carefully, picking up the riding crop and running the handle in the crack of her ass, between her thighs.

My god she’s wet. She will beg him to touch her, if he wants. He is careful, slow and deliberate as he removes the garter belt and stockings. He unfastens her bra carefully, not ripping it off like the dress, and squeezes her breasts hard, pinching her nipples. She gasps, but she loves it. He finds the tiny clamps he laid out on the bed, and carefully pinching and sucking her nipples, he attaches the clamps one at a time to each sensitive tip. She groans, her clit is throbbing, but it’s his pace, not hers.

Now he moves her, turning her to face the bed and bending her half over the edge. He ties her wrists with another scarf, and pulls her arms up over her head to tie her to a bedpost. Then he reaches down and slides the thong she’s wearing down to her knees, not off. That little bit of silk adds to bind her a bit more. He reaches to feel her wet pussy, fingering her clit, and rubbing her ass. He’s aroused now, too, and he stops for a minute to stroke his own dick, then he picks up the whip again.

She wasn’t ready for the first harsh blow, and she gasped in pain, tears flowing, the minute he whips her. Before she recovers from the first pain, he does it again. He whips her while she cries and moans, squirming, but she can’t get away, and in between, he rubs her clit and fingers her… then he whips her again. She is moaning, writhing, totally submissive – wanting him to stop, wanting him to never stop. She can almost cum right now, she’s shocked at herself to know…

He whips her 10 or 12 times, then tears off the thong. He pulls off his pants and fucks her from the rear. He loves the feel of her ass, hot from the beating, and he grinds into her so his balls feel the heat. Her moaning of pain has turned to moaning in lust, and she begs him, “please may I cum?” “NO! I’ll tell you when,” he says, as he keeps grinding away.

In a few minutes, he climaxes. Now she can cum, he tells her, and she immediately goes into spasm after spasm of orgasm, even though he was starting to get soft. She had been doing her best to hold back, and she felt like she’d never stop cumming... He unties her wrists and turns her over, licking her clamped nipples and rubbing her clit while she climaxes again. Now tender, he gently unclamps each nipple and kisses them – can’t leave those clamps in place too long - and then he moves to lick her clit, lick her through one more orgasm. Then, he’s ready for more.

“On your knees,” he orders, and finally removes the blindfold. Obedient, she immediately begins to suck his dick, and surprises him by deep-throating him, but she’s enthusiastic. He’s got a big dick, yes, he’s in his 50’s, but he’s in good shape and he has taken good care of himself. She is ready to cum all over again, just from the shear joy of sucking his dick, submissive, on her knees. He takes a long time to cum, this time. But she sucks him all the way through, doing her best to please him, swallowing everything and licking him clean.

He recovers enough to speak, and then orders her up on the bed where he strokes her all over for a few minutes more, and kisses her, cool and friendly, but no longer passionate. He tells her to get dressed, and she finds her bag with the extra clothes she brought along. They small-talk once more, make casual plans to meet again the next time he’s in town, and then she leaves.

Next day, she can barely sit at her desk at work, each pain making her remember. It’s not long before she kicks her husband out and divorces him; she has crossed the line and she doesn’t want to go back.