The Smell Of Leather

I love the smell of leather in the morning. Or in the afternoon. Or at night. You might just say I've got a "thing" for leather. It was just a typical day when I walked into the store during my lunch break. What store you ask? The one with studded leather on their mannequins. I love coming here. I'll stand and smell the leather and caress the floggers, longing for the day that I'll get to use one. They know me here, I come in a lot, always spending just enough for them to let me linger.

Like I said, it was a normal day. I walked into the store, my ipod whispering sultry things in my ears. I walked straight back to the wall of floggers and inhaled deeply, the smells of calf and deerskin mixing around me. I selected one of medium heft and took it off the wall. The handle was beautifully weighted and I could tell that the broad, soft tails would make a lovely smacking sound and make skin red while causing just the right sting. I longed for a broad, willing backside to thwack. With a sigh I put it back up on the wall and turned to look at the racks of leather clothes.

As I turned around, I met a pair of dark, deep eyes. I'd seen him before, many times, but we'd never spoken. I could tell he'd been watching me. His eyes spoke volumes, but his lips uttered not a sound. We stared into each others eyes for what felt like an eternity before he reached out and took my hand.

We moved towards the counter and he spoke to the man behind the counter, "Mind if we use a dressing room?" The guy just smirked, "Anything gets messy you bought it," and turned back to his magazine.

We moved to the back of the store and down the hall of black curtained dressing rooms. He threw me into the room farthest from the door and pulled the curtain shut. Before I knew it, he was everywhere. My back was pressed against the wall as his mouth crushed onto mine, his hip grinding into me. My head spun and I gasped for air between soul devouring kisses. He grabbed for my flailing wrists and slammed them against the wall hard enough to bruise and my knees nearly buckled. Two can play at that game. The next time we came up for air I dodged his kiss and sank my teeth into the crook of his neck. He moaned and his grip on me faltered.

His hands went to my waist and my jeans fell to the floor as we kissed. I managed to slip off a sneaker and get one leg free. One hand pulled my naked leg up over his hip and the other tangled into my hair, pulling my head sharply to expose my neck. As I hung on for dear life, he ever so gently licked my neck, making a shiver run through me. As sucking wet kissed caressed my neck, his pants came off and he bit down as he entered me. I screamed. His mouth came back to mine as he pumped into me. My legs locked around his waist and his hands came up to cradle my head as he pounded me into the wall, harder, faster. Our blood pumped and my mind spun as we fucked. I could feel him tensing under me as we both came. I gasped for air, my mind was gone. The world spun and I saw stars.

We slowly slumped to the floor, gasping and panting, still locked together. He pulled back and looked into my eyes and, in half-breaths, said, "So, you come here often?" A grin split his face and we both started giggling. The laughter hurt my half-crushed torso. It felt good.

He sat back and started pulling down the shirt I'd wrenched up at some point. He winced as he worked it down. I glanced in the dressing room mirror and saw that I'd left ragged furrows up and down his back. I looked down at my hands and saw blood beginning to dry beneath my nails. When had I done that? Probably some time between "ungh" and "Oh Gods!" I looked into his eyes in apology. His answering kiss assured me that he didn't mind.

As we wriggled back into our clothes I said, "I don't live far from here, if you've got some time." Technically I had somewhere to be, but nothing I couldn't blow off. This would be much more entertaining.

A hand reached over and gently took mine, his other hand gently stroked the bruise blossoming there. "You sure you can handle that?" he asked with genuine concern.

I choked down a laugh, "No, no." I put my hand over his and smiled sweetly, "You've had your turn. Next time's mine." I purred, "Can you handle that?"

A sly sideways grin spread across his face and, very slowly, he nodded.

A few long minutes later and we were standing in my bedroom. He stood straight and tall, hands behind his back, eyes down. He'd done this before.

"Any rules?" I asked. He shook his head. I wondered if he really wanted it hard or if he was just showing off. Better start off soft. If he was half as fun as I thought he might be then there'd surely be later opportunity for more another day.

"You know what to say if you want me to stop?" I asked.

"Red." Good. He'd definitely done this before.

I looked up at him and smiled. "Strip."

The shirt came off. Boots, sock and pants quickly followed. And there he stood, in all his glory. I hadn't really had a chance to appreciate him before. I strolled around him to better appreciate the view. He was taller than me, but then most people are. Nice body, toned but not too muscular -- strong, but without the hard lines of men addicted to the gym. His skin was perfect, except a nice set of teeth impressions on his neck and the lines I marked down his back. I ran a finger down a line and chuckled in remembrance. He shivered.

I circled back around to look him in the eyes. "Turn around and face the bed." He did. "Kneel." He did.

I walked over to my favorite closet and rummaged about. I returned holding a short length of my favorite crimson rope. I got up on the bed and rested my hands on the wrought iron foot board. I let the rope just dangle into his frame of view and heard his quick intake of breath.

"Hands. Palms together," I said as I found the center of the rope. He gave them. I wrapped the rope around his wrists several times, careful to keep the lines flat -- I liked my rope pretty. Once I was satisfied that his wrists were secure, but not too tight, I tied him to the foot board just at his shoulder level. I wanted him uncomfortable, but not so much so that I might have to let him go before I'd finished with him.

I hopped off the bed in a rather undignified manner and smirked at myself. There was something unbelievably arousing about having a man tied to my bed. This was a man who could probably pick me up and throw me across the room if he wanted to. And here he was naked, at my mercy, and all by his own volition.

I walked over to the dresser and pick up the flogger we got at the store. I brought it to my nose, inhaled deeply and smiled to myself. I had wanted some nice bits of flesh to use it on, and now I had some. I slowly walked behind him, my stocking feet making very little sound on the carpet. I stood there, not touching him, just letting the flogger smack ever so gently against my palm. I wanted him to hear it. His breathing was even and deep. Something had to be done about that.

I stepped forward and began to let the leather straps just glide along his back. They just barely slid along the claw marks I had made. Each time they caught on a bit of tender skin he shivered. Better. For a moment I contemplated giving them a good smack, but figured that might cause a bit more pain than he was ready for. Instead, I let the flogger move lower, the soft leather caressing his backside. His breath caught as I lightly flicked the ends across his ass, stinging him slightly. I smiled wickedly at his reaction.

I moved slightly to his side and reached for him. My hand grabbed the back of his head and shoved it down harshly so that his ass was in the air. His breath was much quicker now. I could tell he was just waiting for the first blow. I let him wait a little longer, much better to let his mind race and his imagination run wild. When I saw the first bead of sweat begin to form at his temple I let my arm swing down. Thwak! I heard his harsh intake of breath and let leather sit on his backside for a moment, and then, ever so slowly, lifted my arm, letting the tails skimming along the pink they had caused.

I gave him a moment to steady himself before I brought down my arm again. Thwak! And again, thwak! And again. Each time the stroke was a little faster, a little harder. Soon his hands reached out to grasp at the foot board for support. His breath was coming shallow and fast; every once in a while a whimper would squirm past his self-control. His restraint really was quite impressive: it had to go. I wanted him weeping for me.

By now his backside was red and raw. Even the softest straps would have started to hurt by now. His breath was coming in ragged little gasps and tears streamed down his face. I was elated, my own breath coming hard and fast. With every tear I could feel myself getting wetter, riding his pain as an adrenaline high. As I brought my arm down one last time, hardest of all, he screamed for me.

I knelt down beside him and held him as he shook and cried, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. I stroked his head and held him as his breath came back under his control. I raised his face to my own and wiped away his tears with my hair. "You did very well," I cooed, "You've pleased me." I kissed him gently on his brow and not so gently on his lips. His answered with the kiss of a drowning man, desperately seeking me as if I were his only hold on the world. It was exactly what I wanted from him.

Reluctantly I pulled away and stood up. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading for more. Well, who was I to disappoint him? I reached down and untied his hands. I let him remain kneeling on the floor while I carefully wound the rope into a coil and set both it and flogger on the dresser. I walked back to the closet and went into a drawer. I returned carrying two long leather straps with buckles on the ends, like extraordinarily long belts.

I moved to the bed and arranged some pillows up against the head board, his poor abused backside didn't need any more harsh treatment tonight. "Come up here," I motioned to the pillows. He slowly stood up, gingerly stretching out his legs. He took a deep breath and moved up onto the bed. "Put your back up against the headboard," I ordered. He winced as he shifted himself backwards to rest against the pillows.

I tapped his shoulder, "Put out your arm." He lifted his arm parallel to the bed. I slipped the middle of one of the long straps around his bicep and wove it through the headboard. I slowly wove the trap down his arm, crisscrossing around the muscles, tying him securely to my bed. At his wrist I carefully buckled the ends of the strap together, making sure not to pinch. I shimmied across him to the other side of the bed, ignoring his growing erection, and secured his other arm the same way.

I got up off the bed and walked down to the end of it so that I could survey my work. The straps were nice and even and looked quite fetching against his pale skin. He sat quite still, waiting for whatever came next with seeming patience, though his eyes held untold longing. I toyed with the idea of blindfolding him, but decided to give him a little show as a reward for his obedience.

I turned around and walked to the corner where my hamper stood. With my back to him, I slowly raised my shirt above my head and peeled out of the arms. I held out my arm and let it drop unceremoniously into the hamper. I stood to the side and undid the button and zipper of my jeans. I took my time working them over my ample hips and stepped my far leg out of them, taking off my sock at the same time. I rested the leg closest to him up on the hamper and gently worked the remaining leg of my jeans down and off. I looked over at him and smiled to see that I had his full attention. Still standing to the side, I reached back and undid the clasp of my bra. I worked my arms out of the straps and wriggled until the under wires came free of my very full breasts and the bra flopped onto the floor. I strangled moan came from the direction of the bed. I may not be as thin as current fashion demanded, but no man had ever complained about my curves. I turned my back to him and, with excruciating care, worked my panties over my hips and down onto the floor.

I turned around and sauntered back to the bed. I climbed up next to him and gently rubbed my nose against his face. I could feel him quiver as our breath mingled. Harshly, I grasped the back of his head and forced his mouth to mine. He opened for me as my tongue plundered and explored every inch of him. I pressed my breasts against his chest while my teeth nipped at as lips, demanding his escalating response. I wanted to drive every thought from his head, to fill him up until I was all there was. His hands clenched and his arms strained against the straps, banging the headboard against the wall.

I smiled at his efforts and slid my kisses down his throat. I sucked and nipped at his Adam's Apple while my hands moved up and down his chest. I let my nails just graze his sides, his chest, his stomach. He groaned horsely as I let a hand move down to his hip. While my tongue enjoyed his shoulders, I scratched deeply into his thigh, eliciting an even louder groan from him. I slipped my hand around the hard length of him and he bucked beneath me. Light as a feather, I moved my fingers around his head, making him scream.

As I moved to straddle him I captured his lips again. There was no mistaking the urgency in his kiss. I raised my hips above him, just barely brushing him with my nether lips. Suddenly, I plunged down onto him and groaned into his mouth as he filled me. I pulled back and began to rock back and forth with exquisite slowness. His eyes were unfocused and his breath came in tiny gasps. His fists were clenched and his arms were pulling the straps as far forward as the tiny amount of slack allowed. I moved forward, raising my breasts to his face. His mouth found a nipple and I laughed in delight. As his tongue swirled around my breast I began to rock faster and faster. I raised my arms above my head and moaned with pleasure. We rocked faster and harder. My hands grabbed at his chest and shoulders, looking for an anchor. I raised up and slammed down on him again and again until I finally began to shriek and spasm around him. He kept bucking against me as I came around him and finally screamed of his own accord, pumping his orgasm into me.

I collapsed onto his chest. Blood trickled down it in neat little furrows to match the ones on his back. I laughed giddily at the sight. I rolled off of him and nearly rolled onto the floor, I was so weak and rubbery. I could hear his labored breath matching my own.

I stared at the ceiling and waited for the lights to come back into focus before I sat up. I went up on my knees as I leaned over to undo the straps that bound him. The leather left harsh white lines against his skin and small bruises at his wrists that matched my own. I flung the straps over in the direction of the closet, not much caring where they went for now. He carefully moved his shoulders in a circle, testing them.

"You OK?" I asked.

He grinned like a schoolboy and breathlessly said, "Never better."

"If you slide down a bit I'll rub those sore shoulders for you."

He slid down and I wriggled behind him. I gently massaged his shoulders and arms, careful to avoid bruises and scratches. I smiled to myself. He'd be wearing my marks for days.

He groaned as I rubbed a sore spot. "We really need to do this again," he said. "Soon."

I ran my thumb across a bruise and had an impish though, "Are you sure you can handle that?"

He laughed and grabbed my hand, "No, no. You've had your fun. Next time's mine," he said in a fairly good impression of me. We both laughed heartily. As it turns out, we wore each others' marks for a lot more than a few days. Thereafter we both, quite frequently, smelled of leather.