"My legs tugged at the ankle bindings to no avail. How did one conversation get me into this predicament?" This is a fictitious intense BDSM story I wrote, set in the first person. It involves consensual exploration and sex. If you should enjoy reading it, please give it a positive rating and spread the word. It took me some time to get the nerve up to publish it. Thank you.
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Tears streamed down my face with my breasts mashed to the smooth surface of the table, allowing more than a side view of their softness. My body was pulled tight to the mahogany table top, my bottom angled upward over the pillow assuring my only my toes reach the floor. My legs tugged at the ankle bindings to no avail.
How did one conversation get me into this predicament?
Sniffing back my tears, I sipped, then gulped, at the offer of water. He brushed back a stray long lock of my wavy brown hair, his hand large and comforting against my flushed face. One hand held the bottle, the other drifted down my back.
"A few more slow sips." He paused. His voice deepened to a sultry groan far deeper than normal. "Five more to go."
I swallowed and sputtered my words. "I thought you meant strokes not minutes. I don't think I can take five more--"
"Shhh. You're doing so well." His hand reached my warmed bottom, rubbing me there, easing the fire to embers. "You'd be surprised. You're only a rose-pink."
I gulped the rest of the bottle. His hands moved from me, leaving me only the feel of the cool night air on my skin and my nipples rubbing against the smooth surface below me. I shifted, able to move only slightly, my hair spilling onto my arm and face again.
His steps came closer to me. Standing to my side, I could only see the shadowed shape of his solid body. "Brace yourself, my dear. These might sting."
"It already did!" I squealed out, my body jarred taut with renewed distress.
He leaned over me, kissing my neck and whispering to me, "Shhh, love." His hand rubbed my back, relaxing me. He reached between my heated cheeks, palming me inward until his fingertip brushed my pearl, awakening me. Electricity instantly zinged through me. My body eased as I recalled our earlier moments, pressed to each other. Sensations flew outward from my inner core. I wriggled to his evading fingers. He gently kissed me, his hand explored me, but never quite enough. I knew I was wet. My moans didn't need to tell him.
"You can do this. Only five more minutes. You know you wanted this." His finger gave one last flick to my clit before sliding away and rubbing my bottom and thighs. Then he kissed my shoulders, my back, ever lower on the arch of my back, melting me. His voice growled, "I want it, too."
I think I nodded. My sigh of "yes" was more of a hushed breath than a word.
Suddenly his large maw of a hand came down hard on my bottom cheek. Then the other.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
Again, and again. The intensity and placement of his strokes varied, most landing harder and faster than before. I would have kicked but I couldn't. I tugged at the scarves on my arms, letting me at least raise up and twist to watch him out of my periphery. That earned his hand on my hip while his hand clapped down on my thighs.