I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I'm not psychologically damaged in any way. I'm not afraid of open spaces or confined spaces. I'm quite gregarious although I wouldn't say I'm always the life and soul of any party. I like going out. I like staying in. So what suddenly came over me might seem entirely out of character.
Also I don't want you to get the idea that there was any violence or nastiness involved. It's difficult to explain. I'm not sure I understand it myself. No force was involved unless I wanted it to be. If anything, Simon was gentleness itself - well, at least at the beginning. Which perhaps added to the thrill of it all: punishment and love, an irresistible combination.
I suppose if I had to pick a time when it all started, it was when we were making love - well, having sex - oh, let's call it fucking - when Simon was fucking me missionary style. Which was enjoyable, don't get me wrong. I love his cock and I love it when he has it inside me, whichever way he decides. But I don't know what came over me. Suddenly it seemed to me it was a bit boring. Well, not exactly boring, that's unfair, but predictable. Or conventional. Yes, that's the word: conventional. I mean, it was great. As I say, I loved the feel of his cock in my pussy. And I knew I would probably come, because I usually did however he fucked me. But a devil inside me suddenly said, do something different, surprise him.
So instead of clutching him with my arms round him, like I usually did, I raked my fingernails down his back. I didn't intend to hurt him, poor guy, because I thought I'd done it pretty lightly. But I suppose I mustn't know my own strength, or I had sharp fingernails that day, or something, because the next thing I knew he was screaming in pain.
'What was that?'
'Sorry. I thought you'd like it.'
'Being scratched by your talons? How would you like it?'
I thought about it. 'I don't know. Maybe you should try it.'
He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
'As a punishment,' I added. Suddenly the word 'punishment' seemed not only appropriate, but exciting too. 'Otherwise,' I added, giving him a sly grin, 'I might do it again.'
'Oh no, you won't.' He pulled my arms from around him and with one hand held them by my wrists flat on the pillow above my head.
He was strong, definitely, but I could have freed myself if I'd exerted myself. It's difficult to hold two wrists with one hand, no matter how strong you are. But suddenly, I don't know, I liked the idea of being pinned there with my arms above my head and his body pressing down on mine and his cock thrusting inside my pussy. I felt helpless - or rather, I allowed myself to feel helpless. And I loved it.
'Go on then, you bastard,' I said, pretending to resist. 'Fuck me.'
For a moment he looked shocked and I thought he was going to stop and let me go. But I gave him a quick grin to show him I didn't mean it, and he fell into the role I'd hoped he would.
'OK, bitch,' he said, not quite giving enough force to the word, but I appreciated the effort. Anyway, the important thing was he didn't let me go. He carried on fucking me and suddenly it felt much better than before. As I said, it was like I was helpless. And I loved it. It was like I was being forced to feel pleasure. Not like I was being raped, which has never happened to me, thank God, and which I imagine is really horrible. But the increased pleasure was real. I could feel every movement of his cock in my cunt and it was amazing, like all my senses had multiplied a hundred-fold. Within a few seconds I could feel my orgasm approaching.
'You bastard,' I said, trying to look angry in the middle of my mounting orgasm, 'you're going to make me come.'
'Isn't that the idea?'
'Please don't.' I tried to sound pathetic.
'What?' He suddenly stopped.
Desperately I hissed at him, 'Don't stop. Keep fucking me.'
Frustratingly my orgasm retreated a bit, but he resumed fucking me, albeit slower than before because the poor guy was confused, and my orgasm started to grow again. 'Don't make me come, please,' I said again, and this time he got the message.
'Shut up. I'm going to make you come whether you want to or not.'
'Oh no. Don't make me.'
I couldn't say anything after that because he fucked me so hard my orgasm hit me like a train and all I could do was give myself over to it. The feeling of being held down, of being a helpless victim made it all the more intense. God, it was fantastic.
When Simon came a few seconds later I got another rush. I wanted to plead with him not to come inside me, so as to increase my feeling of being attacked, but the feeling of his come exploding inside my cunt felt too good and I worried it might spoil the moment. He seemed to have become a bit more brutal too, which added another frisson. He grunted with the effort and banged his cock hard into me so that I could feel our pelvic bones colliding. It was amazing.
Afterwards he rolled off me and lay beside me and I curled up in his arm. 'That was lovely.'
'So what was that all about?' he asked. 'All that "hold me down and don't make me come" stuff?'
'I don't know. But when you held my wrists above my head it really turned me on. I just like the idea of you being a bit forceful.'
'OK.' I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. 'Just so long as you're not getting into bondage or anything like that.'
I didn't say anything, just hugged him.
I tried not to think too much about it, but it kept coming back to me what a buzz I'd felt being helpless while being fucked. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it again. Simon and I fucked a couple more times over the next few days but it was a bit disappointing. I was too distracted thinking about how I could get him to be more forceful. I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I felt I needed to be pinned down somehow, to be made helpless and then to be mercilessly made to come - almost against my will, but not really. Part of me knew it was ridiculous - the idea of being forced to do something that I wanted anyway - but the urge grew on me despite that.
The next time I felt horny we were kissing and fondling on the couch and I checked his cock was nice and hard inside his jeans and I said, 'I don't want to fuck.'
'What?' He stopped kissing and squeezing my tits and just looked at me like I'd slapped him.
'If you want to fuck me,' I said, as challengingly as I could, 'you'll have to force me.'
'I can't do that,' he said uncertainly. 'That'd be, like, rape.'