This is my first ever submission (so to speak) so please be gentle!
Her heartbeat pounds out a familiar rhythm as she waits in the dark, stretched silently across the mattress like an offering, knowing he's on his way. The sensation of her pulse is primal. She's tried to fill the long desolate stretch of daylight hours, anticipation rising with the setting of the sun. A few more hours, a few more mundane tasks, a little more self control. It's a mountain she climbs daily, the precipice of which she now balances on, waiting alone in the tangle of blankets. The bedroom door opens. It stirs the air, light spilling in from the hallway. She watches and waits; a few more moments. He strides into the room with the casual gait of natural authority, someone who knows his needs will be fulfilled. She shivers, wondering what will happen. He's unpredictable and she loves it. She knows he is watching her but she doesn't look up.
"Look at me," he says, playful but with an edge of command. She doesn't look up, not yet. The moment stretches. He doesn't repeat himself. The silence swells. Slowly she raises her eyes. He smiles when they meet his, shakes his head.
"That took too long. You know better," he chastises. She doesn't look away, her breathing quickening as her core tightens. He's captured her, standing over her like a predator preparing to strike. She's frozen in place, easy prey.
She's getting damp, she can feel the arousal building as he reaches down and gently brushes her hair back out of her face.
"Get on your hands and knees," he tells her and she obeys, compelled by the tone of his voice. He's calm and relaxed, but she feels a delicious pang of fear as he fists her hair. He rubs his fingers over her ass and pussy, pausing to flick her clit as she cries out softly. His voice is teasing.
"Mmm, someone is a little impatient. You want me to touch you, baby doll?"
She whimpers yes, writhing a bit. He pets her hair, a patronizing gesture that turns her on and makes her feel helpless.
"Ok. I'll touch you. But you might be sorry." His weight shifts and she hears the sound of a drawer opening and closing and a quiet ripping sound as he wraps a length of black bondage tape over her mouth and around the back of her head, cutting off her sharp cry effectively. She makes a plaintive, muffled sound, trying to convey her fear and desire. She knows he means business and she hopes she is ready to endure whatever he demands of her.
She feels exhilarated, her deepest desire to be an object that he owns, a toy he can play with, his favorite toy. She hopes he knows the level of trust she has in him, the way he frees her of all expectation and allows her to immerse herself in sensation. She opens her thighs further to him, a symbol of her submission.
He notices, a growl low in his throat as he gathers her hair at the nape of her neck and jerks her head back. "Good girl," he murmurs soothingly, "that's it, hold still for me." She forces her motion to cease, feeling her panties soak through with a new flood of wetness. "That's a good girl," he praises again, stroking her ass and thighs. She moans again, the pleasure of his words and the difficulty of holding still overcoming her. His voice is amused, teasing.
"I think I know what you need." Time seems to stretch as he positions himself gracefully.
She feels a flash of pain as his palm connects with her ass cheek. Her breathing grows ragged, her heart pounds as she lunges forward, away from the stinging blow. He easily drags her backward until she's lying on her belly.
"What a bad girl," he tells her, though he sounds more amused than angry. "I guess you really do need to be punished." He wraps another length of bondage tape around her wrists, pinning them behind her back. She struggles halfheartedly but she knows she needs this. Struggling is futile. He does this because he knows it undoes her, he grants her the pain she needs to heighten the pleasure that will come after.
The spanking is firm but varied, blows raining down on different bits of skin as her moans become strained. This release is sweet for her; she struggles for another few slaps before keening deep in her throat and giving in. She collapses into the softness of the mattress. His other hand rubs at her pussy between smacks, confusing her brain as the pain and pleasure create a heady cocktail of sensation, warring and then threading together; combining.
