It was many years ago when a friend, a recovering alcoholic, showed her a wall hanging that was the basis for any twelve step recovery program. It read:"Today is the first day of the rest of your life".
Now here she was, all dressed up, standing, waiting, collared and blindfolded with only the sounds of classical music to accompany the butterflies playing drum solos in the pit of her stomach, or was it her heart beating with anticipation she could hear, rather than feel.
Tho' she tried to keep calm by singing "If my friends could see me now," Shirley MacLaine she wasn't, deep down she felt, "Tonight may be the first day of the rest of my life."
Just when she began to relax, a warm, masculine hand slid down the front of her black satin panties and for a moment she thought her heart had stopped beating. He kissed her once and then she proceeded to suck his finger as a prelude to what she assumed he was expecting- what she was hoping for.
Next, he led her, slave fashion, down the hall to another room. She stood for a while and then the stranger stuck his finger and thumb back into her anxious mouth, but it was different this time, she could taste Baileys Irish Cream! While she sucked the liquΓ©ur from his finger and thumb he tilted her head back -- restraining her, teasing and tantalizing her --which turned her on, greatly. Then he began undressing her, which seemed so natural, so right. After several phone calls, prior to them meeting, she felt she knew the stranger better than anyone -- and that he knew her.
Now here she stood half-naked obeying the stranger's every command, which he conveyed to her by tugging her hair. He hadn't spoken a word since she arrived and as talkative as she normally was, she daren't speak, for fear that she might anger him. And that was something she knew, would not be wise. He instructed her to get down on her knees. Her wrists were bound and leather boots removed. With her head resting on clasped hands, skirt lifted and bare arse tilted towards the sky, she received the first whack.
The volume of the classical music, whilst numbing her brain, muffled all other sounds, enhancing the delightful pain. The anticipation generated by the stranger's non-verbal communication and her own mixed thoughts -- 'when was I going to get it again?'... 'Where?'and 'How severe?'
The evening became more intense as he laid her back on a wooden cross, her arms and legs outstretched and secured. At this point she empathized with Christ! As she laid there spread-eagled and blindfolded, she received several stinging whacks on her thighs and then she felt something hot and hard placed near her arse. When the stranger finally spoke, it was to instruct her to pull. As he pinched her sensitive and erect nipples.