She had really angered him beyond what he had felt before. Now, bound tightly before him, on her knees in his bathtub, now she would know his displeasure.
He took her blindfold off and removed the ballgag. She had drooled all over it, after being denied orgasm at least 9 times over the past hour. She was quivering uncontrollably.
"Open your mouth and swallow all you can" were the terse instructions. "This is what you get when you displease me so"
She wisely did as required. He stood before her and relaxed. It took a few seconds but soon he was relieving himself. She leaned forward to try to keep as much as possible in her mouth. She swallowed obediently, but couldn't take it all. The extra splashed across her face and into her hair.. The urine was acrid going down, yet she knew this was her penance, and that she must do as told.. It took her mind off of the inflatable butt plug which stretched her for what she knew would come next...
Prelude
She knew she had hurt him. His last words had said it all. "You have angered me. But worse, you have hurt me."
She had not heard from him since, for weeks. Phone calls, texts, emails...all went unanswered. One long weekend, after much thought and perhaps one wine glass too many, she decided. A risk, a gamble, an act of desperation.
Her hands trembled involuntarily as she finished her text and hit "send".
"No limits"...
"No limits"
The text passed across his screen. He sat and pondered for awhile. Agreed upon limits were an important part of the relationship. They could be tested, but were never intentionally violated. He wasn't sure if he would allow himself no constraints on his behavior. There was a part of himself that he didn't want to show the light of day.
Over the course of the following week, he would sit alone in the cool darkness of the evening. The only distraction he allowed to partially intrude on his thoughts were the entire works of Paganini, especially the 1st Concerto in D minor. One glass of extraordinarily expensive scotch per night. Just one...he didn't want to cloud his thinking. And no matter how logically he would approach his problem, his emotions would win each argument raging within.
"4 a.m. Saturday. Here." was his reply.
"4 a.m. Saturday. Here."
Direct and to the point she thought. But there was more in that message than its simplicity implied. "Here" - She had never been allowed to enter his house. That was one of his limits. He was very private and controlled his surroundings as he controlled himself. They had always met at a five star hotel or at her apartment. He had been able to come to her as he pleased. She never knew exactly when or for how long.
And rarely on a weekend. Saturday?! 4 a.m.?! Early morning usually signaled the end of their playtime. No instructions included for how to present herself. He was often exacting as to his preference. She could guess his mood by what he desired her to wear. Now...no clue.
She thought about all that was, or was not, included in that message. She wasn't sure what it foretold and started to second guess her decision to send that simple two word text.
She considered all of the boundaries that they had enumerated. She couldn't imagine which ones he would now disregard, with her permission! As she thought of each limit, a new chill would travel down her spine. Would he beat me, or cause me serious harm? She told herself that she had brought his ire upon her. She had offered "no limits." He hadn't EVER suggested such a thing. She tried to steel herself to follow through with the path SHE had chosen, for being without him caused a deep well of sorrow to well up within her soul.
She sent another two word text. "Yes Sir."
All was dark. She reached to push the doorbell. Before she could, a voice came from the intercom.
"Open the door, strip off you clothes and stand before the table."
She did as instructed, left the clothes as they fell and turned towards a long utilitarian table near the entrance. She gazed at all he might use on her. Some she was familiar with. Plugs, clamps, rope, blindfold. She saw many different sex toys, some of which she couldn't fathom their use. She saw a mask with some sort of tube affixed, much like a gas mask. Her gaze fell upon a velvet bag. She pulled back a flap and stepped back. These looked like medical clamps, devices, speculum, probes and even scalpels.
He was behind her. Your safe word is "stop." That is the only limit. If you say this word, at any time and in any context, then it is done. Forever. You have offered me no limits and I will take it. I hope you haven't offered capriciously. I expect no reply. You will not speak, except if you need the word.
She knew exactly what she had done. She had thought of it often before she decided to send the text. If she was questioning now, it was only because she feared going through with it.
"Follow me."
She did so dutifully. He lead her to the backdoor and into the backyard. "Sit on the bench." It was a typical slotted park bench. She sat, naked, waiting. Her walked behind her and drew both arms behind her. He quickly tied her hands to the lower back of the bench. He moved to her front and produced shackles for her ankles. As he attached each one, he spread her legs as wide as she could stretch them. Then he connected them to the sides of the bench. She was sitting arched, spread eagle and vulnerable at all angles.
He placed the strange looking mask with tube on her face.
She started to shake a bit from the strain of having her legs spread so wide. He pulled out a vibrator and placed it directly on her clitorus. She started to gasp almost immediately.
"You'll have to control your breathing better or I will." As she wondered what that meant and her breaths became shallower and quicker, he closed the valve on the mask. She now had no fresh air and was breathing heavier from excitement and oxygen exhaustion. She began to try to buck after a minute or so, but she was bound too securely. He opened the valve and ceased vibrations.
She gasped for breath. The fear and the stimulation mixed uncomfortably within her...
...Each time he would bring her close, so close, to release. Each time, as her breath became ragged, he would close the valve. Every successive closure would last longer than before. She struggled between ecstasy and unconsciousness. She tried one final time to control her breathing so that he would let her go over the edge. But it was to no avail. She inhaled deeply as he closed the valve. He left the vibrator on just long enough for her to think he would relent. As her excitement built and darkness started to creep over her eyes, he removed the vibrator. If she had retained enough breath, she would've screamed.
He removed the mask. She gasped, panted, and tried to cry out, but she could not. Her body was rigid from the unreleased energy. She writhed trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart. She wanted to plead with him. "Please, one more touch and I'll explode. Please!!" One look into his eyes told her that saying her thoughts aloud would only make things worse.
Worse. She wondered what other tortures were in store for her...
He brought her inside, gave her a glass of water and said, "drink." She complied. He grasped her arm and lead her into his study. She had but a moment to espy the stocks hanging from the ceiling until he blindfolded her...
He opened the stocks and placed her hands and her neck into the holes. He closed and fastened the stocks. He placed earplugs in her ears and then placed headphones atop them. He put a ball gag in her mouth. The stocks were drawn upwards which forced her to precariously balance on her toes. He withdrew.
It was time for breakfast, so he went to the kitchen and began preparing it. After about 10 minutes he returned to his study. She was whimpering a bit, but was essentially quiet and calm, her legs rigid from attempting to balance.
He lowered the stocks enough that he could spread her legs into a mild v. He tied her feet in this position and lifted the stocks a small distance to add a bit of involuntary struggle. He went behind her and quickly inserted an inflatable butt plug. He then pumped it up to what looked like an uncomfortable size. He then positioned a vibrator to just barely touch her clitorus. He set it on low, knowing she couldn't possibly orgasm at this intensity. But she would get frustratingly close, with time.
He turned on some music for her headphones and left the study. She started to moan.
