His firm hand rests upon her cheek. Softness glows in the quivering flesh. "I like when you tremble." His voice is lust itself washing over her and her hips squirm in need despite her desperate struggle to keep panic at bay.
His hard cock pushes far into her throat and demands her full attention; forces her to swallow over and over to get it in and hold it there without gagging. His hand gently smoothes a lock of hair from the front of her ear and sets it in place. Her skin shivers. Warmth is his touch, but fear lies cold upon her heart. As does her desire.
Air rushes in where his hard length takes itself back from her. Her tongue darts out, her lips stretch, her neck pushes forward to try to get it back, but he pulls out of reach. By forcing herself as far out as she can, she just manages to touch the smooth head and she thinks surely he will come back for more, but he grabs a fist of her hair and yanks hard.
She gasps and arches. He's taken her by surprise. When it passes and she calms, he pushes his throbbing member relentlessly back past her lips. She opens her mouth wide for him, swallows and pulls him in with tongue, lip and muscle.
Again he pulls back and again shoves in. She takes on the rhythm of his movements. Craning forward as he slides in, shaking her head side to side and pulling back as he does. She wants to touch his hips, feel his buttocks clench and force, but her hands spasm uselessly. Locked together and linked to the bed.
His palm strokes her cheek and her flesh wavers. The steady throb of his hardness keeps her fear partly at bay. His fist in her hair directs her head more forcefully into his groin, holds her close and this time when it pulls back, it leaves her out of reach of more.
"I love the way you need this." His hand slips easily over her cheekbone. "I enjoy the way you will do whatever I need from you even though it frightens you and makes you wish you didn't want such things."
"Yes." Is all she can manage.
He had pulled away from her lips, but her throat is still constricted. Clamping down on itself. Tightening around a phantom cock.
She wants to say more. Her mouth moves of its own accord. She can't. She can't think of anything to say, even if she were capable of it. She doesn't know if it's fear or simply that she is too lost to manage any more than a simple yes.
His hand strokes her cheek yet, and she wants to flinch even as her skin wants to curl around the back of his fist and sleep. Spoon with the hand that holds the whip. She wants and fears, craves and wishes she were free. Her hands twist in their bindings.
"I'm afraid you're going to need these tonight." His tone was easy, his hands firm and unyielding as he grasped her wrist and buckled the cuff tight.
"Why would I need it?" She asked, just as lightly. Panic already welling up inside her like tears that come unbidden. "I'm good for you." It sounds to her ears as though she is whining. "I try very hard to please you." Now pouting.
He grabs the other wrist and starts buckling the other cuff on. "You do please me." He tells her. "You please me very much." As if in emphasis of this, she feels him stab at her thigh. A poke, a pulse and another, longer, prodding as he tightens the buckle down and clips her wrists together.
His hand circles her chin and pulls it over his hard length. Squeezes her lips together as the other fist yanks her hair until his balls bounce against the back of his hand. She tries to gasp, wants to shake her head side to side to increase his pleasure, enhance the sensation for him, but his fist and palm keep her steady while his hips thrust in deeper.
When he tied her wrists to the bed, she began to writhe. Usually she can tell by the tone of his voice or the texts that he sends what his mood will be. Whether she will be tormented until she can barely take anymore, then pummelled by his cock in a sexual experience rougher than she has experience for previous or whether he will be sensitive and kind as he takes her to heights of orgasm and desire she hardly believed possible before him.
Sometimes, like today, she has no idea what he wants from her. The uncertainty grows throughout the day as he calls or texts with tiny barbs or light banter. She has no idea if he is jesting or serious when he tells her she will be tormented. Or if it is like the rough days. The ones that leave marks on her. Body and mind. And heart.
Her body often carries the soreness, the red lines and tender spots - even bruises - for days, her mind smiles and wanders whenever she feels or sees the reminders of their time. Her heart, though, never gets over the way he takes her. Whether it is a gentle day or a night that leaves deep marks for days, the traces he leaves in her heart can never fade.
The texts and calls throughout the day, however, served to increase her anxiety moment by moment. He sent her a list. She expects that now. Whether he sends it days ahead or on the same day she knows he will be there, she gets the things ready that he tells her. The list for today was fairly simple and she thought at first that meant that he would be sweet and tender with her. Although that really isn't an indicator, she always hopes for his tender side. She aches for his caress and the way he makes her feel as though love is an endless pool she has fallen into and can float carelessly therein.
Even as she craves the rough flare and force of his brutal days, she yet hopes for the ease of his comfort. Her body responds to both equally as extreme. She yearns for the tender spots in her flesh when she feels the sweet glow of a starlit night bathing her morning skin and longs for the soft touch of his fingers when she cannot move for feeling a twinge and poignant stab of memory.
Sometimes he sends her a list that makes her heart race and her knees shake and then his hands melt her into the most delicious puddle of afterglow that she can remember ever dreaming of. Sometimes he sends a minimal list that he uses to such extreme advantage that she can hardly walk the next day and wants only to sleep.
It doesn't matter what he sends, she will have it ready when he walks through the door. She learned that lesson early on and it is embedded well into her psyche. Besides, she wouldn't have it any other way.
The first text came just after she got to work. "The cuffs, the belt, the riding crop, the blindfold. A button up blouse and skirt." Short and simple. She felt her insides melt and pour out over her thighs. She is going to get spanked or whipped.
"I'm looking forward to tonight. I do hope you'll be good for me."
The second text sent her heart wildly thrashing against the inside of her chest. It came just after the first one and before she could answer. Now her fingers fumble and she thinks she won't be able to send him an acknowledgement.
"I always try to be very good for you." She manages to type. Her fingers thick and stumbling with many corrections, it took minutes that dragged on before being able to press send and take a long needed breath.
It was an hour and a half into her day that he called. A rarity. His voice sends wave of fluid gushing through her and out.
"You are very good for me." He begins and warmth spreads in ripples from the center of her mind. "I want to help you so that you will always know what I need from you."
Those same circles of light and desire turn to cold desperation. Worse, her body sends another flush of liquid down her thighs.
"I'll do whatever you want from me, you know that." She whispers this even though her office is empty of all but her.
"I do know that." He says with a light chuckle. She can't gauge his tone and has no idea whether he toys with her now or is discussing his needs in earnest.
Every couple hours throughout the day, she gets another text. Something about how he looks forward to seeing her or wants to make sure that she is serious about being good and doing everything he wants. Every time she assures him she will do anything. Every time her throat goes dry and her sex opens in a flood.
He stands next to her, pressing his hard member deeper into her throat, caressing her cheek with hand and voice. "You need to be taught what I want." Heat trails a wide swath over her delicate face. "I don't blame you. You can't know unless I show you." She squirms and feels a deep gag she works hard to suppress.
