What's the plan for tonight?
Restrain a slut and fuck her ;)
The text message makes me squirm, my arse wriggling on my chair, my shoulders shivering a little in the air con. My work seems suddenly unimportant and annoying, but play is 9 hours away. I will just have to suffer through til then, my anticipation dampening my panties and distracting my mind. Just as he intended, I'm sure. I hope no one notices, but I kind of hope they do...
***
He stands back and smirks at me, admiring the view.
I grin up at him and test my bonds. Ropes tied around my wrists are attached to the bed restraints above my head. There's just enough wiggle room for reactions without being able to actually move them anywhere. Cuffs around my ankles pull my feet wide apart, the rope rubbing deliciously against my skin as I try to bring them closer together, to no avail. A final set of bonds wound just below my knees hold me open for him. In this position, I can't deny him anything. The smirk is justified.
As he moves around me I feel cool air wafting across my warmest parts and I shiver. He bends down and picks up something. As he brings it over my head I see a red rose. He traces it over my skin, a delicate sensuous touch.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he says, despite it being two weeks past. He always finds something to celebrate, my optimistic lover.
His hand grips the rose bloom and pulls the petals off. They flutter over my body, landing delicately on my bare chest and stomach, to contrast intensely with my white skin. He and I admire the sight from different angles.
I watch him lean over to the chair covered in our toys and pick up the red flogger, the 'light' pigskin. He dangles the falls over my arms and legs, delicate touches again. Part of me wants to sink into the sensuality. The other part of me knows full well a strike is imminent. He is a master of misdirection, a specialist in shock tactics, a guru of the unexpected. And he's patient, so patient. He waits just long enough, teasing me with gentleness, until finally I relax, just a little, then...
Schwap! My pussy stings. I yelp and flinch. Or try to. I can hardly move, restrained as I am, open and vulnerable. It's deliciously exciting.
The red flogger rises and falls. Sometimes it moves in a rhythm, soon to be broken with an unnerving sense of timing. Sometimes it hits the one place, over and over, until I am stunned by a strike somewhere else. Sometimes it seems random, all over the place... but I am not anticipating the smack of his hand upon my flesh amongst the caress of the suede.
My inner thighs smart, my pussy burns, my breasts are ruddy. I writhe in my bonds, but I can't get away from the fall of the flogger. I enjoy the struggle anyway. Judging by the chuckle, so does he.
Perhaps he decides I am enjoying myself too much. He walks over to the chair of toys and picks up the pink and black paracord flogger. He runs the short lengths over his hands and fondles the hard ends.
I say, "Noooo..." because it does hurt - that stingy, whippy kind of pain. He laughs. I wriggle with more desperation than before.
He starts low on my legs. And softly. Each strike is a little higher and a little harder. I endeavour to be still. To take the pain. It's possible I whimper a little though.
"You're still smiling," he says as he whacks the sensitive skin of my upper thigh. I try to close my legs, but I can't. The bite of the melted paracord ends hits my other thigh and I close my eyes, because I'm pretty sure I know where it's going next...
"Aaaarghhhh!"
Damn that hurts. He chuckles again and starts a regular set of strokes, flicking those mean little ends up and down my legs, and nipping over my pussy and stomach, to the accompaniment of my whimpers and shrieks and writhing.
