I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. My chocolate eyes were round with excitement. You would be here soon, and I wanted everything to be perfect. I nervously checked my hair and makeup, smoothing non-existent flaws that had been fixed just a moment before. I ran my hands over the tops of my breasts, pushed up high by the metal stays of my red jacquard corset.
The straining flesh heaved above the black lace trim, and I smiled with satisfaction. Best two-hundred dollars I had ever spent. My DDDs had never looked better. The black lacing at the back cinched my waist tightly, creating an even more hourglass figure than already existed. I could barely breathe, but the agony was all part of the game.
You had no idea I would be here when you got home. I had never done anything like this, planned anything so daring. I prayed you would properly appreciate my gesture. I wasn't even sure if you knew how to handle a whip, or if you even liked to be tied up, and I was nervous.
I exited the bathroom and checked again to make sure all was in order. Your house was immaculate. I had spent over fours hours cleaning and organizing, creating the perfect stage for our upcoming performance. On the glass table by the front door lay an 8x10 inch picture of me in my corset, stockings, garters and thigh-high leather boots. It was propped up against a black glass vase full of blood-red roses.
Past the front door and hall, your dining table had been cleared of all items except for our new toys: a pair of steel handcuffs, two pairs of fur-lined leather wrist and ankle restraints, one flat black crop, a 12 inch leather cat o' nine whip, one satin blindfold, and a soft cotton gag. They all gleamed and shone wickedly in the rays of the afternoon sun.
Down the next hallway lay your bedroom. It was a scene of pure, unabashed lust and debasement. I had replaced your servicable white linen sheets with layers of silky satin, black and red. It hung in drapes around the windows and canopied the bed in a decadent bower of passion. Velvet cords dangled from each bedpost, enticing instruments of submission.
All these preparations paled in comparison to the new piece of furniture in the right corner of your room. Looking as if it had been crafted centuries before, wooden timbers formed an instrument of torture and pleasure, punishment and desire. When examined closely, one could tell that a person could be forced to stand or kneel, depending on the punishment, upon the 4-foot wide turntable that rested on the ground. A pole rose up behind the table, and a horizontal plank extended out halfway overhead. A chain fell from the plank to attach to restraints, and it could be raised and lowered depending on the activity. The turntable itself was rotated with a smooth wooden handle attached to a crank.
I imagined you kneeling, blindfolded, gagged and cuffed, arms raised to the end of the chain, stretching you taut. I could hear your moans behind your gag as I whipped you from the top of your back to the soles of your feet with the cat o' nine. I could see your flesh glowing pink as it burned beneath the leather's cruel kiss. And if you were good enough, I might reward you with a turn at whipping me with the crop. Just imagining it made my flesh tingle and burn.
Turning away from my lovely new acquisition, I readied myself for your arrival. You didn't even know I had a key to your house. I had copied it a few days ago from a spare you kept by the phone. I wanted this to be a complete shock. I wanted you at my mercy as I introduced you to new heights of pleasure. I knew I was taking a risk, surprising you like that, but I somehow felt that you would enjoy it as much as I had imagined.
I heard your car pull into the driveway, and I ducked into the spare bedroom. I was going to come up behind you as you stood examining the items on the dining table. With a deft flick of my hands, I would have you cuffed before you could react.
And then the fun would begin.
I realized I was holding my breath as I heard you open the front door. Silence fell, and I envisioned you staring at my picture. Perhaps you reached out a finger and stroked a rose. Your footsteps echoed over the wood floors as you started down the entrance hall. I was surprised to not hear you call out. I had been sure you would call my name. But you remained silent as I heard you enter the dining area.
When your footsteps stopped, I eased out of the room and silently strode towards you, taking care to make no noise in my high-heeled boots. I crept closer to you and came to halt when I was no more than a yard away. The table was nestled in an alcove, and I was sure you would not be able to escape me.
Taking one last step, I allowed my heel to fall against the floor, resounding with a loud snap. You didn't jump. You didn't turn around. You stayed facing the table, gazing at the items before you. Even when you spoke into my shocked silence, you were calm, infuriatingly so. Why weren't you at least a bit startled?
"Do you actually know how to use these, my dear?" you asked. I could hear a change in your voice, a new vibration that made my body shiver. Your hands were still in front of you, and I couldn't see what you were doing.
Attempting to sound cool and unruffled, I laughed throatily and answered. "Why of course I do. I had a wonderful teacher. She taught me all I know."
"She?" you inquired politely. "My, my. There are apparently many things I didn't know about you."
I kept silent, refusing to tell you that she was actually just a friend who had given me some advice and instructions at the start of my escapade into BDSM. She was a mother-of-three soccer mom who had been fortunate enough to marry a man who enjoyed her fetishes. I didn't tell you that it was all still pretty much in theory on my part, that I hadn't had much experience in the actual practice. This was my fantasy, my setup, dammit, and I was in control.
At your amused indifference, I began to get even more nervous. Rashly, I stepped forward with the intent of reaching around you and quickly lifting the pair of handcuffs. I would immediately snap them in place, and once more I would be in charge.
You moved faster than anyone I had ever seen. As I stepped toward your body, you whipped around to face me. I hadn't realized that you had been holding the cuffs in your hands, and I faltered with surprise. Damn, I had wanted to get those on you as fast as possible. How was I to do that now?
Before I could even begin to formulate a new plan, you slammed my back against the wall, pinning me with your body. You grasped one of my wrists in one hand, stretched it over my head, and snapped one cuff into place. Dazed, I watched as you cuffed my other hand as well. I could barely inhale, your body was pressed so hard against mine. Now holding the cuff chain in your left hand, you reached around and grabbed my hair. Towering over me, you pulled back hard and forced me to look in your eyes.
I had never seen such heated intensity in your gaze, and I realized that beneath it all, for the entire time of our acquaintance, you had held back a seething cauldron of savage desire and power.
"So, my little pet," you growled at me, "you thought to teach me a lesson or two, hmmm? Did you perhaps imagine me naked, cuffed, perhaps kneeling as you whipped me? Did you imagine me as your perfect little slave, scrambling to comply to your every demand? Did you see yourself in that postion, weilding that power?"
I couldn't even nod, my head was pulled back to tightly. I merely stared into your furious eyes, my silence damning me as the fear began to coalesce in my mind. Oh god, what had I done? Had I misjudged you that badly? Were you angry at me for entering your house without your permission? Were you mad at the way I presumed you would do whatever I said? Or was it everything I had done, including the fact that I so brashly and naively assumed you would be submissive to my every whim? This fire in you was so new, so unexpected.
