The most powerful force affecting the lives of human beings is thought. One thought by itself is like a gentle passing breeze, but the same thoughts repeated over and over take on the full force of a hurricane, destroying anything that stands in the way of those thoughts becoming reality. Such was the effect of my thoughts about Roland. He was happily married; so was I, but we had shared fantasies. He had in very explicit terms described the things he wanted to do to me. He was caring and compassionate towards me, and yet the things he described were disgusting and degrading. Somehow that made the fantasy all the more intoxicating. Over and over my thoughts returned to those things. I knew it was only a matter of time.

 

            I had agreed to meet him. He was discussing “rules” and expectations. He was explaining safe words and how they worked. I must have been totally out of my mind. I said, “No. No safe word. I won’t get the complete experience if I know I can get out. If you’re going to dominate me, then dominate me. No pretending.”

            “You want to be completely at my mercy with no way out?”

            “Yes.”

            There was a long pause. He said, “This could be extreme. It will involve intense pleasure, but it could involve far more pain than you would willingly submit to.”

            “I think that’s the point.”

            Again there was a long pause.

            “You are to wear a full black slip with no bra, black panties, black stockings and high heel shoes.” He told me where to meet him. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it was crazy, but I didn’t have even an ounce of resistance. I felt the irony of the way I dressed. As I pulled the elegant silks and satins over my body I was keenly aware of the not so elegant way this would end up. This was to be no romance, no tease and no seduction. This was to be a submission, complete and total.

           

I was a nervous wreck, standing in a motel room with a man who was not my husband. Roland on the other hand seemed relaxed, supremely confident. He sat calmly in a chair with a black briefcase at his feet. “Lock the door Gina.” As I did I had a sinking sick feeling that I was making a mistake. At the same time I knew it was a mistake I wanted. I turned to face him. “Turn back around, with your back towards me.” I did. That simple command made me feel extremely self-conscious. He remained silent for several moments. I knew he was looking at me, sizing me up, appraising me. “Take off your skirt, now the blouse.” As I removed these items I could feel his gaze behind me getting hotter and hotter. “Now very carefully slide the straps of your slip off your shoulders. Don’t reveal your breasts yet, but I want your shoulders bare.” As I slid my shoulders bare, the knot in my stomach became stronger. I wasn’t any more naked than I had been a moment before, but somehow I felt ten times more vulnerable. Only later would I find out how right I was.

            I heard the briefcase open. He threw something on the bed. He spoke slowly and carefully. “You know what I want. I will give you pleasure. I will give you pain. I will love and cherish you, and I will humiliate and degrade you. Ultimately, I will control you. However, this must be one hundred percent your choice. If I coerced you or tricked you or forced you in any way, it would be no good to me. Oh the physical events might be the same, but I get no pleasure from dominating someone even mildly against their will. For me the ultimate lover is one who would do absolutely anything to please me…” He left the sentence hanging for several moments. “The choice is yours. I will respect your decision. I will always respect you whatever you decide. The handcuffs are on the bed. This is the moment of truth. If you put them on, there is no backing out. If this is what you want, pick them up, stand with your back towards me and put them on behind your back.”

            I was in a state of near panic and at the same time feeling a rush of sexual intoxication. I picked up the cuffs and turned away from him. Still feeling his hot stare on my back, I circled the cold steel around one wrist. One at a time I clicked each notch into place. I circled the other cuff around my other wrist and again, one at a time I clicked each notch until it was tight. I waited for him to say something, anything. It seemed like I waited an eternity.

            He got up. I heard him walk toward me. “Face me,” he said. I turned to face him. He very tenderly touched the side of my face and kissed me. “You know that I love you?”

            “Yes.”

            “You know that I will not ‘harm’ you?”

            I grinned. “Interesting how you emphasized the word ‘harm’. I take it that means you’ll hurt me but I will recover.”

            He smiled. “I think you have the idea.” He stepped back and said, “Get on your knees.”

In the long slip with my hands cuffed it was neither easy nor graceful, but I got on my knees. Disgustedly I said, “This is not exactly dignified.”

I felt a sudden sharp pain to the entire left side of my face, and then a warm feeling rushed over it. He had slapped me, and no playful slap either. It was real. “Any more smart remarks will be dealt with even more severely. Is that clear?” My head wasn’t even clear. I was still in shock that he had actually done it. “Is that clear?” he said even more sternly.

“Yes,” I managed.

He grabbed me by the hair and made me look up at him. “That’s Yes Sir.”

“Yes Sir.” The words left a bad taste in my mouth. He stepped away and started taking things out of the briefcase, deliberately letting me see them as he laid them across the bed. There was a pile of ropes. There was a whip with many ends to it. There was a bullwhip about four feet long and finally he uncurled from the briefcase a small ragged tree limb or switch about two and half feet long. I wanted to say, “Surely you’re not going to use that on me,” but the memory of that first slap was still strong.

He walked back over to me and perversely reached down to caress my breast. He said, “I am going to ask you some questions. You are to answer in full sentences restating the question. I will ask, ‘Is your name Gina?’ You will answer, ‘My name is Gina.’ Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Are you my slave?”

My tongue was thick. Wasn’t the fact that I agreed to do it enough? Did he have to make me say it? He grasped my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Gradually the pressure increased to a painful level. “I am your slave.”

He twisted the nipple hard. “Are you my slut?” I remained silent. I turned my head away expecting to get another slap. It didn’t come. He walked over to the bed and picked up the whip that hand many ends. He said, “Face against the floor slut.” I sat there on my heels, proud and defiant. He grabbed me by the hair and pushed my face against the floor. I turned my face sideways away from him. I felt something on the back of my neck and realized he had his foot there holding me down. I felt the fabric of my slip being pulled slowly up and over my ass. The first swing stung like a bee, followed by an ache. The next few swings just hurt. I grunted at first and started crying out by the third or fourth one. I lost count.

At some point I screamed, “Enough!”

He gave me three or four more lashes even after I cried out. Then he grabbed me by the hair again and sat me back up against my heels. “Shall we start this over, or do we need more discipline first?” I could tell that my eyes were watering. I tried to hold some sense of dignity, but the effort was fruitless. He stepped back and said, “Are you my slave?”

“I am your slave.”

“Are you my slut?”

“I am your slut.” I slurred the word slut. It was so distasteful it didn’t come out right.

“Are you my whore?”

At this point I couldn’t look at him. I just stared at the floor and said, “I am your whore.”

“Good. We’re going to play a little game whore.” He touched my face and gently made me look up at him. He lightly rubbed his thumb across my lips. “If you win this little game, then I will do everything in my power to pleasure you, to excite you, to stimulate you. I will make love to you as intimately and powerfully as possible. I am confident you will love every moment of it… if you win.” When he started the next sentence, the tenderness left his voice. It was replaced with a firmness that communicated he was not kidding. “If you lose I will use everything on that bed to inflict as much pain as I believe you can endure. I will whip and beat you until you are bruised from your shoulders to just below your ass. We don’t want any marks to show in public, but you will understand pain.”

Still without telling me what the game was, he walked over to the bed and began to undress. A strong knot of fear was building within me. As his pants slipped away I noticed his cock was already fully stiff. He walked up in front of me, bringing it to within an inch of my face. He said looked at his watch and said, “I will let you suck my cock for five minutes, and not one second longer. If you make me come, you win. If I do not come, you lose.”

“What if I don’t want to play?”

“Then you lose. It seems pretty simple to understand. Do you… understand?”

“I understand. Can I ask a question?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not kidding are you?”

“I am not kidding.” He looked at his watch and pushed a button that made a beep. He pushed another button and said, “Begin.”

I took him whole into my mouth at once and started stroking him by moving my head. Thoughts raced through my mind. Was he serious? Could I make him come? Of course I could make him come. He was so worked up he might come in the first few seconds. He was already starting to moan with pleasure. I could see his shaft shiny with the wetness from my mouth as I pulled back on each stroke. I tried to throat him, to swallow him at least partially. Then I heard it. “You have four minutes left slut.”

Four minutes? What was this, some sort of sick countdown? I tried to calm myself. I thought, “Just keep doing what you’re doing. He’ll never last another four minutes.”

He said, “Oh yes. That is good. You might win this after all.” He moaned as I bobbed up and down as fast as I could. “To be honest I was hoping you would lose. I was especially looking forward to hurting those beautiful breasts of yours. I’m sure they are quite sensitive.” He moaned again and said, “Three minutes left slut. This is going to go down to the wire.”

The knot inside me was growing. Anxiety was overcoming me. At the same time I was feeling a serious need. I needed him inside me. Under different circumstances I would have jumped on top of him and fucked him hard. Obviously that was not part of the game, at least not yet.

“Two minutes left slut. Are you beginning to realize where this is headed?”

I was drooling. My chin was dripping and with my hands cuffed I had no way to wipe it. Anxiety had grown into panic. I had to make him come. I was gagging myself over and over with each stroke.

“One minute left. Ah, but you are close…”

I was completely terrified. I was crying, tears streaming down my face but I was still sucking and bobbing for all I was worth. I could tell from his breathing I still had a chance, or did I? Was he holding it back deliberately? Could he do that?

“Thirty seconds slut.”

For a moment I felt a smug satisfaction. Regardless of whether I won or lost I was certain I was giving him the best blowjob of his life. No matter whatever happens in his life, I was certain he would never forget this.

“Fifteen seconds.”

I had no feelings at this point. My actions and the feelings of my body seemed so strange to me it was if I was watching another person. I was crying uncontrollably.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

He was counting the last few seconds. I could hear in his voice he was about to come. I refused to give up.

“…six, five, four, three, two…”

The last few seconds passed in slow motion. I heard him say “one” and then felt him pushing my head back off of him. He held me one inch from his cock. It was swollen. I could see it vibrate with the racing of his heart. I held my mouth fully open and even stretched out my tongue hoping he would come. He did not.

Gradually his breath slowed. I said, “Please, no. Just a few more seconds, please!” That was all I could say. He shoved a ball into my mouth, a ball with leather straps that he secured tightly behind my head.

As he seemed to catch his breath he said, “That was good, almost too good. I thought I was going to lose it there at the end.”  He moved a chair and started screwing something into the ceiling. It was sort of like a hook, but it was closed into a full circle. He threaded a long rope through it and moved the chair out of the way. He uncuffed my hands, but quickly tied them back together in front of me with rope. He then tied that rope from the ceiling to my wrists. He stepped back and pulled the rope hoisting my hands up over my head and forcing me to step directly under the hook. He tied off the end of the rope to the bathroom door handle.

He stepped up to me and started touching me, tenderly but I still tried to pull away. I knew what he had in mind, and yet his touch was so sensual. He caressed my breasts and gently traced his hands down to my hips. “You are so beautiful, so elegant…” He smiled. “… so MINE!” He pulled my slip down and off of me. Then he removed my panties leaving me in only stockings. He took a piece of rope and tied my ankles together. He said, “We don’t need you kicking while I whip you now do we slut?”

He started light, teasing really. It didn’t hurt. It just reminded me there was nothing I could do but stand there and take it. Then he slipped into more of a medium gear. Each lash made me jump and groan, but the pain was within reason. He whipped my breasts with the smaller whip that had so many ends. I could see the red marks across them. He then whipped my ass and my back with the larger bullwhip. It hurt immensely. I was screaming behind that ball with each lash. At least I could see in the shadows when each lash would come and brace myself.

He stepped back over to the briefcase and pulled something out. It was a black fabric bag. I felt suddenly sick when I realized what he intended. I was crying real tears. I was trying to beg him no, but I couldn’t speak. He put the bag over my head and my world went dark. There would be no seeing in the shadows, no bracing myself.

The next few lashes were the worst, not that they were the hardest. It was just they came far apart and I never knew when the next would come. I stood there in fear, shaking, expecting it any moment, finally relaxing thinking he was done when another would hit me.

After standing still for probably five minutes, waiting for another lash, he took the bag off my head. He took the ball out of my mouth and kissed me. It was a slow deep kiss. He untied me completely and sat me on the edge of the bed. He immediately buried his face in my cunt. I had given him the best blowjob of his life. It seemed he was intent on returning the favor. I turned to look at myself in the mirror. My breasts were flame red, as was much of the rest of me. Again I had that feeling that I was looking at someone else.

He continued to lick and suck. I could only take so much. I grabbed him and pulled him up. On my back with my ass on the edge of the bed, my knees pushed up and his feet still on the floor he shoved his cock deep into my cunt. It was like he was pounding right through me. I could still feel reminders of the pain on my ass as he pounded it into the bed over and over.

He let me up and I turned around standing on the floor bent over the bed. He entered my cunt from behind and continued the pounding. He reached around and started fingering my clit while he did it. I pulled all the covers into a wad as I screamed and came. I felt his hands digging tight into my hips as he held deep inside me coming.

Several minutes later he was resting on the bed and I got up to look at myself in the mirror. The flame red breasts were mostly pink. He realized what I was looking at and said, “Two hours max and the marks will be completely gone.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to bruise me from my shoulders to my ass?”

He smiled. “I… exaggerated.”

“You were bluffing?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I just decided I didn’t want you to get caught by your husband right now. Maybe I want to do this again.”

“Really? What makes you think I would agree?”

“The candy jar has been opened dear. I don’t think you can stay away.”