The Exchange

It had not been easy, he thought. He had had such desires for a while, but actually telling her about them had been difficult. Until now he had always been the one who was in control. They had been exploring D/s for about a year now and he had discovered that he truly liked it when she submitted to him. He had been a bit reluctant at first – he had been concerned about hurting her by accident and worried sometimes about how far to take things – but she had willingly, and even eagerly, welcomed the submissive role. He had witnessed the freedom she found in it and had relished the way she gave herself over to him and to her own pleasure. He also had to acknowledge that the power that came from being dominant was a bit intoxicating. Restraining her . . . teasing her . . . taking her to the brink time and time again before pushing her over the edge . . . it all excited him tremendously. Just thinking about it was causing stirrings of arousal.

They had talked about how their respective roles made them feel. She had expressed her unashamed enthusiasm for letting him have control. She had talked of the thrill in feeling the restraints and how, on those occasions when he had blindfolded her, the unknown had intensified the anticipation and sensations. He had told her how much he enjoyed having her at his mercy, how he never tired of touching and arousing her, how the rush of power was something he could physically feel. They had discussed fantasies and desires that had previously seemed forbidden and felt as if they had discovered a new and exciting world that they were both anxious to explore. It had been, he thought, a very exciting year. He had learned how very lovely she looked with ropes around her breasts and criss-crossed over her body. He had delighted in making her wait and then ask for permission to have an orgasm. He had thrilled to the sight of her on her knees with her hands bound behind her back. He had teased her with his fingers and tongue and toys until she was screaming and her body was quivering. He had watched as her nipples had stiffened as he prepared to place the clamps on them. He had felt the heat of her ass on his stomach after he had spanked it with his hand and it had driven him to take her deeply . . . forcefully. His arousal grew stronger as the memories flowed over him.

He thought about the transformation she underwent whenever they were exploring. She seemed to almost step out of herself and into another place. He would often watch with wonder, as the pleasure would take control of her body. He could see it in the flush that rose up under the surface of her skin. It seemed sometimes that she struggled against the restraints, not in an attempt to escape but in an effort to offer herself to it more fully. Which only made him want to give her more of course and a kind of transformation would overtake him as well. He would feel more dominant, more powerful, because of her submission. It really was an exchange and he found himself craving it sometimes, just as she did.

But watching her had made him think about other things too. He began to wonder what it would be like to be the one who was not in control. He thought about what it would be like to be in a position where he had no choice but to submit. He knew that if he were wearing the restraints then he would be vulnerable and the thought did make him uneasy. He was not sure if he could give up the control. He had never been especially good at being on the receiving end of things even before they had started exploring D/s, but now he really had difficulty reconciling the idea with his new found image of himself as a dominant. Still, he had begun to think about it more often and after their last session he had questioned her so intently about how it felt that she had finally looked at him and asked if he wanted to find out. He had not really been prepared for the question and tried at first to just brush it off. But the truth was he was embarrassed by how much he did want to try it. Apparently, it had showed on his face too. Reading his eyes, she had taken his hand and looked at him so lovingly and reassuringly that he had weakened and confessed his desire.

That had been a week ago and they had not discussed it since. Still embarrassed, he had, in fact, tried to avoid any mention of it. Fortunately, the everyday pressures of real life had helped in that regard. But the idea had not left his mind. He found it creeping insidiously into his thoughts each day. It had become almost annoying in its persistence. Aggravated, he shook his head, pushed himself away from his desk and gathered his things to go home. It was Friday and on his drive home, he began to fantasize about things he would like to do to her that night. He imagined tying her spread-eagle to the bed . . . wrapping the velvet ropes around her wrists and ankles . . . opening her up so that he might play and tease and torment her in all the ways they had both come to love. He shifted in the seat and tried to reposition the hardness that was growing between his legs. He pictured her in his mind; she was so very beautiful, a living definition of the pleasures of the flesh. Then, in the middle of the fantasy, the scene changed. It was no longer her tied to the bed, but him. He could practically feel the ropes on his wrists and ankles and his skin actually felt warm in those places. He felt as if his pulse rate had suddenly accelerated and the extra blood flow was going straight to the erection that had become almost painful within the confines of his pants. Without being conscious of it, he dropped his hand to his lap and began massaging it. The new fantasy began to take shape and for a while he gave it free reign until he suddenly realized that he was on the brink of orgasm. Startled, he pulled his hand away and shook the images from his brain. The last thing he wanted the paramedics to find was the front of his pants soaked with cum as they loaded him into the ambulance following the accident he was sure to have if he did not concentrate on his driving.

He arrived home without incident and had even managed to calm down enough that he did not have to hold his briefcase in front of him when he got out of the car. The house was dark as he approached it and he wondered if she was even there. Opening the front door and entering the blackness of the foyer, he bumped his elbow on the doorjamb and swore softly. Where was she, he wondered. Why were all the lights off? He stumbled around in the dark until he found a lamp and switched it on. Shadows retreated before the soft light and he saw the note lying the table. Curious, he picked it up and read the words. It was her handwriting. “Come into the bedroom, but do not turn on any lights. Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed. I know what you are thinking, but trust me. Fantasies are to be shared. I love you.” He reread the note again. The paper, he realized, was shaking because his hand was trembling. He felt a tightness in his throat and a tingling in his arms and legs. Blood was pumping rapidly throughout his body and causing him to swell again.

He put the note down on the table and began carefully walking through the dark house to the bedroom. Despite the blackness he managed to avoid running into anything, he had after all lived here for a while now. But even with the familiarity things seemed different somehow. He paused at the bedroom door . . . frozen for a moment by uncertainty. Was he ready for whatever lay over that threshold? Doubts began to cloud his mind, but the nervous excitement coursing through his body proved to be stronger and he stepped into the room. Faint traces of light from outside were visible around the edges of the window. Objects in the room appeared as blurred shadows without definite form. Something seemed to be wrong with his depth perception; some things appeared to be three dimensional, others did not. He strained to see if anyone else was in the room.

He moved until he was beside the bed and began to undress. His fingers trembled and he fumbled with the buttons. When he took off his shirt he sensed that eyes were watching and a shiver passed over him. The air seemed especially cool on his chest and back and he realized that it was because his skin was so warm. His nipples stiffened. He took off his shoes and socks and stood for a moment feeling a strange mixture of apprehension and arousal. Taking a deep breath, he undid his pants and took them off quickly as if speed would help somehow. His erection was stretching his underwear in such a way that nothing was hidden. He took them off and felt it spring free. From the darkness he thought he heard a sound and he strained to make it out. But the silence was all encompassing. He could hear nothing but the pounding of the blood in his ears. He stood naked and waiting.

After a few moments he remembered what the note had said and he lay down on the bed. The sheets felt cool beneath him. His skin had taken on a whole new sensitivity so that even the air on it seemed to be a tangible thing. A sound – he was certain it was real this time – came from beside him. Words, soft and loving, entered his ear as a whisper, “It’s okay, just relax. Let me take you there. It is a wonderful place.” It was her voice, he knew, but it had such an ethereal feel about it. He felt it pulling him in, seducing him. Hands moved his arms above his head; fingers secured the velvet ropes around his wrists. He had no thought of resisting. A spell had been cast and he was surrendering himself to it.

Movement on the bed was accompanied by the touch of hands on his legs, pulling them apart so that his ankles could be placed in the restraints. He felt more exposed than he ever had before. His erection was huge and throbbing. It seemed to loom out into the darkness like a living being. He pulled on the restraints but they did not give. He was helpless. He could not resist. She could do anything she wanted to him. The thought made it pulse with energy.

Gradually his eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and he could make out the silhouette of her body. She was naked and the sight of her beautiful breasts outlined by the light seeping in around the window made him ache with desire. He wanted to take her in his arms and bury his face in her cleavage, but was reminded again when he tried that he was bound to the bed. He could not see her face clearly, but somehow sensed that there was a smile there. She moved into the shadows again and disappeared from his view. He did not know where she was until he felt her lips on his shoulder. She was kissing him very lightly and he could not believe how good it felt. She kissed her way up to his face and pressed her lips against his. He lifted his head to kiss her passionately but she moved away leaving him with just a taste of her lingering there. Her lips, soft and moist, moved down across his chest. She paused at his nipples. He jumped when she flicked one with the tip of her tongue. He moaned when she began sucking on it gently. The sensation was almost too much. He had never been able to lie still when she had tried doing such a thing before but now he could not get away and she teased him by licking and biting gently on each nipple until they ached. He wanted to protest but the words came out as a moan instead.

Finally she left his nipples alone and he was filled with a mixture of relief and emptiness. He was to the point of craving her touch now. Her fingers moved down over his stomach, followed closely by her mouth. He tensed as she approached his erection. Unbidden the word “Please” escaped and he strained to lift his hips so that he could make contact. She did not touch him though. Instead she began to run her fingernails up the insides of his legs all the way to his thighs. He tried to move his legs but was brought up short by the ropes. She was tormenting him but he never wanted it to end.

Her touch moved away again and he was left wanting. His legs had begun to tremble. He could not remember ever being so hard. If she touched him now he would cum immediately, he was certain of it. Movement on the bed again and he sensed that she was leaning over him. A nipple brushed his lips. He reached for it hungrily. She teased him, bringing it near, then moving it way. Finally, she let him catch it and he groaned and sucked on it and ran his tongue all around it relishing its stiffness. She sighed and let him suck on the other breast. She then put her hands on the headboard and straddled his head. He could smell her arousal and it made his mouth water. He wanted so much to taste her. He reached out with his tongue . . .searching. At first, he found only air . . . heavy with her scent . . . then she moved her hips and her taste exploded on his tongue. Like a man dying of thirst, he licked and swallowed her juices. She was very wet and he realized that she was almost as excited as he was. He ran his tongue up between her lips and was rewarded with a moan from her. He wanted desperately to grab her hips and bury his face between her legs. He could hear her breathing heavy and knew that she was close to orgasm but she moved away before she was there. He felt as if he had been stopped on the edge himself and groaned in frustration. He recognized that denying him her orgasm was a way for her to have control over him. Always before he could decide when she came, now he could not.

His arousal was leaking from the tip when she moved down and breathed on him. He shuddered and clinched his fists. She blew warm air on him and teased him with it. He was frantic for her touch. The tip of her tongue brushed over the head. He held his breath and struggled to hold back the tide. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed tight and the inevitable was held at bay – at least for now. Gradually she released the pressure of her fingers and began to run just the fingertips up and down the shaft. He was trembling continuously now. He could see her lean her head down and when the warm moistness of her mouth closed over him, he almost cried at the sheer ecstasy of it. She slid her lips down along the shaft taking him into her throat and then reversed the process until she held just the head, which she then sucked on. Up and down . . . again and again . . . Each time he thought he would explode, she would stop and squeeze him again until the moment passed. He lost all track of time and space. Nothing else mattered except what she was doing. Somewhere in his brain he thought that this must be how it was when he did these things to her.

She took him to one peak after another then backed him off just enough. He was lost in the pleasures . . . pulling against the ropes . . . relishing the hold that they . . . and she . . . had over him. When she took him from her mouth it was almost painful. He felt her reach for something on the other side of him and her breasts . . . heavy and luscious . . . brushed him. Oh god, he thought, I don’t know how much I can take. Having reached what she wanted she sat back up. He heard the bottle opening and she poured something into her hand. He wondered if it was what he thought it was and then her hand . . . slick with oil . . . gripped his shaft and began sliding up and down its length very slowly. He groaned and thrust himself up into her hand wanting her to go faster, but she kept moving slowly. She rubbed the palm of her hand all around the tip and used her thumb against the soft underside. He could feel it building again. There was going to be no stopping it this time. He fought to lay still and let her slowly stroke him. The explosion when it came was blinding. He shouted aloud as the cum that had been so close so many times finally burst from him. He could feel each ejaculation as she pulled them from his body. It went on forever . . . yet ended all too soon. When she had milked the last of it from him, he lay panting and sweating. He was completely disoriented and shaking with the force of his orgasm. She continued to stroke him softly for a minute then stopped and just held him. He pulsed in her hand.

She got up from the bed, disappeared in the dark again, then returned with a warm damp cloth with which she wiped him down. The ropes at his wrists and ankles were untied and he was able to take her in his arms at last. Her body felt so incredible against his that he suddenly wanted nothing more than to pleasure her. He pushed her back on the bed and moved between her legs. He spread them and quickly slid his tongue through her wetness. She moaned and arched her back and pulled his face against her and he licked and sucked her until she screamed and came on his tongue. Despite the force of his orgasm he had only softened a little and with the sound of her orgasm he was hard again and he slid deep inside her. As he thrust into her, he realized that power, like love, was something to be shared. The exchange was complete and the two of them would be stronger for it. He took comfort in the thought and for the rest of the night they made love not as a dominant and submissive but as lovers who would always share fantasy and reality and power together.