She calls him to be with her at 6pm sharp. In the meantime, she prepares, already walking through the scene in her mind. Feeling herself moisten in anticipation. She puts the ankle and wrist cuffs by the door for him. She readies a bottle of champagne, tempted to have a glass, but wants her senses alert.
Then she waits.
She hears the door open and turns towards the sound. He comes in, as usual, knowing what to do, and undresses quickly, looking at the ground, sneaking glances at her as he puts on the cuffs, already semi hard. She looks at her boy with satisfaction when he kneels before her in perfect position. She grabs his hair in her fist and pulls him hard towards the bedroom without a word. He stumbles awkwardly on his knees, but she keeps her grip, and forces him forward. She stops in the doorway, tilts her chin at him and pulls him upward, pulling him to his feet. She attaches his wrist and ankle cuffs to the four eyebolts in the door frame, his body stretched.
Then she pours a glass of champagne, and approaches him. She touches him lightly, with her fingers, her cold champagne glass, back, shoulders, nipples, stomach, he shivers. She holds the champagne glass in front of his mouth, the beaded condensation wet on the outside.
“Lick it” she whispers.
She watches closely as his tongue laps at the glass, and she laps at his tongue in turn, hissing softly if he so much as turns his head towards her to get more of her mouth.
She sits down in the armchair in front of him in the bedroom, her legs crossed, swinging her boot gently from side to side, sipping her champagne. She watches him, he looks unsure, uncomfortable, goosebumps rising on his skin. Finally she smiles at him. He smiles back, nervously anticipating what is coming.
He makes an irresistible target, her fingers itch with the desire to hurt him.
She puts down her champagne and approaches him. She smacks his cock lightly, “down boy, down” and laughs softly when it has no effect. She brings the handle of the flogger to his lips.
“Kiss it” she whispers again, and watches his mouth closely as he does.
“Lick it”, she says, and as he does, she again laps at his tongue with hers.
Breathing into his mouth, giddy with his soft lips and the wetness of his licking tongue.
She steps back and stalks around him, touching every part of his body, stroking again his back, his arse, his balls, his cock, his stomach, his nipples. She stops at his nipples to give each a sharp pinch, watching his face as he registers the pain and gasps.
She moves close to him, bringing her mouth to his, he strains to reach her, but she stays just out of range. She grabs his hair in her fist, holding his head still and delivers feather kisses to his mouth. Then she quickly pushes forward, pulls his face into hers and takes his mouth hard, bruising his lips, aggressively raping his mouth with her tongue, pulling his mouth into her and pressing her body hard against him. She hears him moan into her mouth and feels her heart skip a beat, her pussy throb.
She reaches down between them and pulls hard on his pubic hair and hears his sharp intake of breath. She feels his muscles as he tries to push himself against her hand, but the restraints stop him from moving. She leans back, still gripping his hair, pulling it painfully, and looks into his eyes, and melts a little as she sees his willingness to give her what she needs, his face screwing up at the pain.
“Ask me to hurt you, tell me how much you want it” she says softly.
“Please hurt me Ma’am, I want it badly, please, please hurt me, I need you to hurt me, please, please…”
She nods and lets go of his hair and hears his hiss of relief. She moves around behind him, he is looking over his shoulder at her and she smiles at him.
Then she starts.
Softly at first, just enough force to swing the strands in a line against his back, and he thinks for a moment that it will be bearable. He always thinks that. She builds up slowly, alternating strikes against his back and his arse. She gets into a rhythm, back back back arse, and she watches him relax into it, calm, as the strikes hit him like a metronome, his back and arse turning red. He starts to grunt softly at the strikes.
She interrupts the rhythm, steps into him. He reaches for her with his mouth, his whole body straining against the cuffs. She presses herself against him, rubbing her cheek against his, straddling his leg to press her pussy against him, her breasts against his chest. Her hands go around to his warmed back and arse, and she scratches her nails down the tender flesh as she brings her mouth to his. His response is immediate and violent, crashing his mouth against hers with a moan, sucking at her breath, his tongue finding hers, his entire body trembling to get more contact with her. She kisses him back, hard, pulling his head towards her to smash against him, teeth clashing, his lip catching and he winces, but doesn’t pull away. She finally steps away from him, and his eyes don’t leave hers until she is out of sight behind him again.
She really goes to work on his back and arse now, swinging hard, enjoying the sound as the strands hit him. She watches his muscles as he starts to really feel it, and tries to flinch away from the blows, but there is nowhere to go. She checks in with him regularly and his reaching for her becomes more gentle, less urgent, dreamy as he loses himself in the pain, so she steps in to kiss him, nudging his mouth open, touching him, bringing him back to her, whispering “You can take some more for me, can’t you boy?” to which he always answers the same, “Yes Ma’am.”
She raises it up a notch, now putting force into the blows, his body rocking with it. He no longer flinches, but keeps his body open to her. He starts to make a continuous sound that starts with something inarticulate and ends up being her name repeated over and over through his laboured breaths.
“Tell me with every blow that you love it” she whispers to bring him back to her. By now he is whimpering, his mind drifting, his body a sheet of pain, and his voice cracks as he tries to do her bidding “Ugh, I love it” Ughhh…I..lovit”… She knows he is struggling to stay with her, and his voice deteriorates into grunts that are edging into panic as he tries to find a place to put the pain he is taking for her. She finally starts to slow down and she feels his relief and disappointment when she stops.
She steps back to look at her handiwork and strokes his damaged skin. She leans into him from behind, pressing herself into his heated body, her hands wandering over his chest, abs, hips, pulling him back against her, her mouth at his ear, she says ‘good boy’ and hears a sob escape his lips.