This story is collaborative, hence the jump in perspective. I can't be doing with going through all of it to change it, so... it stays!
Part 1 - his
You hear my voice, close to your ear, my hot breath on your neck; "you can trust me, you understand this, yes?"
"Yes, I trust you fully," you reply quietly, a slight stammer in your words. Yes I trust him, you think to yourself, but what am I trusting him with?
It had started earlier in the evening, when you'd met him for a drink at his local pub. It was a quiet little place, so idyllic as to be almost clichéd: flagstone flooring worn uneven by the endless passing of many different visitors, dark stained wooden beams criss-crossing the roof and glowing embers of fresh cut wood burning warm on an open fire, filling the room with the acrid smell of wood smoke. You'd sat and drunk a couple of different ciders, each one different to the last; some sweet and rich, some so bitter and sharp it seemed as if the enamel was being stripped from your teeth. It had not taken long for you to relax. The dim lighting and warm, cosy atmosphere seemed to mimic exactly how you brain was starting to feel. Your eyes had grown heavy as the alcohol had started to make its presence known to your hindbrain, and your face felt warm and flushed.
You'd talked at length about a number of seemingly innocuous subjects, discovering that you both had a lot in common through shared mutual interests. At times you'd both just sit in silence, revelling in the warm glow emanating from the fireplace. You had been comfortable in this place, and felt secure and relaxed. You had felt as if you could tell him anything, and it would not shock him, and you'd not feel embarrassed by it. He'd occasionally laugh languorously, and answer you only with a sly grin and a look from his eyes that suggested he already knew what you were going to say next, and it would not matter, for he was happy just to be with you; and likewise you were content to just sit in his company.
As the afternoon shadows had lengthened into the evening, he'd moved closer to you on the bench that you were sharing, and you'd reciprocated his approaches until you were both side by side, thighs touching. Occasionally you'd say something that you thought was foolish, and he'd tease you for it for a moment, and then put his arm around you and pull your head close to his chest, laughing all the while, to show that it was his way of being affectionate. Every time he did so you felt a surge of excitement rush through you. Through his clothes you could feel that he was quite powerful, and yet he treated you as if you were a kitten, just enough contact to hold you and show you were secure, without causing you any discomfort through excess pressure. You'd breath in his scent when you were close to him, smelling a mild musk mixed with the smell of soil that still stained his jeans. It was not at all unpleasant, just the reassuring smells of man and nature combined.
Suddenly the topic of conversation changed very abruptly. He turned his head towards you so his face was almost against the side of your neck, and his voice dropped so that the other occupants of the pub could not hear what was being said.
"Do you want to be tied up?" he asked. You'd frozen in shock, and your body had visibly stiffened. "Don't act surprised Alison, I know that you like things that are a little irregular to most", he continued quietly, "and stop staring or people watching you will know you're embarrassed. You have nothing to be ashamed of with me, and how dare you let anyone in here know that you're embarrassed. Look at them, they're now looking at us because it's gone quiet and your eyes are wide. They know you have secrets Alison, but only I know what they are. Should I let everyone here know what your secrets are? "
You'd been lost for words for a few seconds, feeling more uncomfortable as the people watching you waited for a reaction. Your mind was unable to focus or think of a comeback that would break his control over you. Eventually you succumbed to him, quietly uttering "Please don't tell everyone, but yes, I'd like to be tied up."
And again he'd just laughed loudly, wrapping his arms around you to protect you from the stares of the room's other occupants. Suddenly it was all just a joke, and the moment of terror you'd felt seemed to pass in an instant as he'd made it clear to all watching that there was nothing of any worthwhile entertainment to be had from watching the pair of you. You were his property, his play thing, his enigma to explore.
But that was then.
His hand hits you hard across the arse without warning, snapping you back into the present. All thoughts of comfort and security are vaporised by the sudden burning sensation in your rear. You realise you've let out a yelp of pain, and you wonder if the sound you heard had even come from your own mouth. You remember where you are. You are naked on your knees, your legs parted slightly, your wrists securely tied to your ankles, and your ankles are tied with lengths of rope to the bed frame itself. You are blindfolded, but it does not matter; your head is buried face down in the pillows of the bed, so your vision would have been minimal even if it had not been purposely obscured.
"I asked you are you sure!" his voice booms from somewhere behind you. "Did you not hear me or were you ignoring me?" His voice sounds impatient, raised a little in volume. "Sorry, yes I am sure. I trust you fully, but I don't know what you have planned, so I don't know what I am trusting you with," is your blurted reply, the words tumbling out of your mouth so fast as to all be one singular word.
Your mind is racing to think of what he has in store for you. When you'd entered the room you'd not seen anything that would act as a giveaway to his intentions for you. He'd been ever so careful undressing you, taking time to caress and kiss every part of your body as it was revealed. His hands had been gentle as they'd helped you onto the bed, and he'd tied you with such care to ensure that while your bonds were tight and secure they had not been uncomfortable. But now, after what seemed like an hour since you'd walked into the room, your wrists ached. Your thighs were starting to burn as the muscles were stretched by being held in one position for longer than they were used to. Your abdomen was hurting from keeping your muscles tight enough to stop your weight resting on your neck.
Again, a second slap across your arse makes you yelp, but this time his hand stays firmly pressed where it had hit your flesh. You feel the warmth of his palm against your reddening cheek, and you feel the pressure of his grip squeeze your soft flesh. "Do you feel that pain?" he asks his voice one again close to your ear. "Yes, I feel it. It hurt a little." "I know it hurt, because I wanted it to hurt. You showed me it hurt because you cried out loud. This is the control I have over you. I can give you pain, but I can also take it away and replace it with something else, should I choose to. Stick your arse a little higher in the air for me"
You push your rear upwards, arching your spine as much as your restraints will allow you. Your thighs protest as you move your body weight around, but you struggle to do as has been asked because you don't want to be hit again. You feel a heavy hand on each cheek as they are pushed apart, and you instinctively clench against the pressure applied. "Relax; you have said already that you trust me, so why do you tighten so?" You relax your muscles, and as you do so you feel something warm and soft push against your arsehole. It is the most exquisite feeling you've experienced in a while, and you relax your muscles even more, pushing your body backwards against his tongue until you can feel it now inside your arse. It feels incredible as it moves slowly in and out of you. You've never had anyone do this to you, and the thrill of finding something new and arousing that seems so taboo, causes you to moan out loud.
"This is the pleasure I can give you if you trust me fully."
Part 2 - her
I was already starting to twig that a nice, soothing, erotic sensation like that wasn't going to go unpunished. I was right. I felt him draw back and I braced myself. He spanked me again, the noise echoing sharply in the otherwise silent room. I bit my lip, determined not to yell. He did it again, a different spot.. probably looking for a reaction. I didn't give him one, my mulish mind still unreasonably grumpy at my own body for betraying me. Not again, I'd decided.
The spanking continued, varying in hardness, speed.. I couldn't predict it, and as well as the spreading burn in my sore arse, the rest of my body was aching from the tension of my position.
When he stopped, I must have relaxed noticeably, as he laughed at me.
"You're tough, aren't you? Brave. Well, In a minute that blindfold's coming off. I want you to see what you're up against."
I was still exposed, head down in the pillows, sore arse up. I heard him leave the room, then come back and perch next to me. His fingers deftly removed the blindfold. I was trying not to glare at him. He hopped off the bed, kneeling next to it, so his face was level with mine.
"I'm going to put things inside you," he said, meeting my eyes. "We'll start easy, don't worry. But I am going to make sure you can see what you are taking, first. And when I'm pleased with you, I'm going to take pictures, as a souvenir. I know you hate that, but don't worry - no one will see them, and even if they did, they won't know it's you. And there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me doing this, so don't struggle, don't wriggle, cos you'll only hurt yourself.
Here's the first thing."
He held up an object in front of me. It was a butt plug - smooth, tapered, not huge. I was fine with that, I knew I could take it into that place; I'd taken larger. But for starters? What else would there be? He got up, moved behind me. I didn't need to watch him - even without the blindfold, I was happier with my head in the pillows. At least they hid my grimaces when things were painful. I felt the coldness of a blob of lube on my arsehole, then his warm fingers massaging it over me. I felt the firm push of the tip of the plug, and he slid it home, smoothly and easily. As my muscles closed over it, allowing just the flared base to rest against me, he tapped the base, sending a little shock through me. Not unpleasant. I could do this.
He moved down my me again. "comfortable?" he smiled. I nodded. "You took that easily, you dirty girl. I want to see how far I can push your holes. Here's the next item."
