I Am Going To Make You Beg
He has to admit she has done well. He would have been disappointed with anything less.
He has left her with nothing but a small white pair of bikini panties with little ties at each hip. There’s the leather blindfold of course but she wanted that to stay; it enhanced the sensations. At the beginning of the night she had been confident she could take whatever he had in store but she had not been prepared for the heights (depths?) of cruel sensuality he could reach.
Spreadeagled on a padded, leather rack, her body glistens with arousal. Her chest rises and falls as she recovers her breath. Her tight belly quivers. Pebble like toes bunch and flex. Ankles secured in polished, fur-lined leather. He exploited those feet with his fingers, feathers, brushes and tongue. He started there and worked his way over every inch of her body. The juncture of her thighs, her navel and belly, her ribs and underarms, her neck, her ears, her breasts.
Once he had learned which tool or technique yielded the best results, he returned repeatedly. The urge to touch himself had been mighty but he had resisted where many would have failed. He knew it would make the climax of their night all the sweeter.
She protested of course. She cursed. She pleaded. Threats, promises all intercut with hysteria until her throat was raw and he stopped to allow her to drink some lemon water. Smoothing her dark brown hair from her forehead. By this point she knew better than to mistake this for kindness. He simply didn’t want to break his toy too soon.
As he reminded her throughout the night, his breath tickling her ear while his fingers roamed - she existed for his pleasure, she was his to be used.
But she never uttered the safeword. And he never showed her mercy. It just made him want her all the more.
Tonight he gave her the full benefit of his expertise. The hot oil and hair dryer took her soles to a level of sensitivity she hadn’t believed possible. He slathered her ribs in baby oil as his fingers skated and squeezed. Her belly muscles ached from an onslaught of raspberries, followed by the salt he licked from her neck, the sting of tequila he drank from her belly button and the fresh lime he sucked from her nipples.
“Lips, pits, tits, hips,” he whispered. Calling his shots, building anticipation until she was taut as a bowstring and humming with nervous energy.
He elicited moans merely by blowing on her hot skin. He watched the play of the muscles in her arms, trying to protect the exposed hollows of her underarms. At one point she had tried to rip the cuffs from their steel eye bolts. He’d straddled her waist to hold her in place. The bondage rack was never in danger of giving way, it had been built to his exact specifications. He knew that straddling his playthings just increased their feelings of helplessness as he had his way with them. There was a keen psychological aspect to his cruel sensuality.
He taunted her with how she’d brought items of her own demise. Rifling through her handbag he found some treasures. The make up brush which he flicked across her nipples and the plastic hairbrush whose bristles sent her into orbit when he scrubbed them across her soles.
For hours, he had taken her to the border of ecstasy before plunging her back into the depths of torment. His hunger was insatiable and having pinballed her between tickle heaven and tickle hell, he had changed his focus.
He focused on her neck, her breasts, her lower belly and her hips. He stoked the liquid heat growing in her loins, eliciting moans and trembling. He nearly came when she sighed and bit her bottom lip. It was so fucking adorable.
The damp spot on her bikini briefs told him she was ready.
Bending his head towards her he whispered, “Tell me what you want?”
He nibbled her neck as she fought to compose herself and reply.
Swallowing hard, she told him.
“I can’t hear you,” he smiled, flicking the tip of his tongue around her earlobe. “Say it again. Louder.”
She said it again.
“Louder. Beg for it.” His fingertip traced the edge of her bikini panties.
And oh how she begged, an edge of panic to her voice as if she feared he might deny her.
“Well then,” he planted a chaste kiss on her lips, taking her by surprise, “you shall have what you desire.”
He freed the ankle cuffs from the bolts on the rack and re-attached them to the stirrup arms of the table, spreading and raising her legs.
Two quick jerks at her waist and the ties of her bikini panties came loose. She raised her hips for him, helping remove them. Any residual coyness from when he had started to strip her earlier that night had long since evaporated. The panties joined the rest of her clothing on the floor.
“The blindfold?” He said.
“Please may I keep it?.”
“Of course.” Another chaste kiss as his fingertips traced her shaven mound.
He saw her breath catch in her throat as she heard the sounds of his belt buckle and zipper opening.
When he was naked, he mounted the rack. He kissed each of her toes and raked his nails down her arches. Her hips rolled as she moaned.
In truth, this was just the cherry on top of the sundae. The hours he had spent worshipping and tormenting her body, that was the ice cream, the hot fudge sauce and the sprinkles. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy this though.
He gripped her hips and pressed himself against her.
“Please,” she said, “I need it.”
He thrust himself inside her, all the way to the hilt.
She squealed and moaned with delight as he rode her to glory.
He has to admit she has done well. He would have been disappointed with anything less.
He has left her with nothing but a small white pair of bikini panties with little ties at each hip. There’s the leather blindfold of course but she wanted that to stay; it enhanced the sensations. At the beginning of the night she had been confident she could take whatever he had in store but she had not been prepared for the heights (depths?) of cruel sensuality he could reach.
Spreadeagled on a padded, leather rack, her body glistens with arousal. Her chest rises and falls as she recovers her breath. Her tight belly quivers. Pebble like toes bunch and flex. Ankles secured in polished, fur-lined leather. He exploited those feet with his fingers, feathers, brushes and tongue. He started there and worked his way over every inch of her body. The juncture of her thighs, her navel and belly, her ribs and underarms, her neck, her ears, her breasts.
Once he had learned which tool or technique yielded the best results, he returned repeatedly. The urge to touch himself had been mighty but he had resisted where many would have failed. He knew it would make the climax of their night all the sweeter.
She protested of course. She cursed. She pleaded. Threats, promises all intercut with hysteria until her throat was raw and he stopped to allow her to drink some lemon water. Smoothing her dark brown hair from her forehead. By this point she knew better than to mistake this for kindness. He simply didn’t want to break his toy too soon.
As he reminded her throughout the night, his breath tickling her ear while his fingers roamed - she existed for his pleasure, she was his to be used.
But she never uttered the safeword. And he never showed her mercy. It just made him want her all the more.
Tonight he gave her the full benefit of his expertise. The hot oil and hair dryer took her soles to a level of sensitivity she hadn’t believed possible. He slathered her ribs in baby oil as his fingers skated and squeezed. Her belly muscles ached from an onslaught of raspberries, followed by the salt he licked from her neck, the sting of tequila he drank from her belly button and the fresh lime he sucked from her nipples.
“Lips, pits, tits, hips,” he whispered. Calling his shots, building anticipation until she was taut as a bowstring and humming with nervous energy.
He elicited moans merely by blowing on her hot skin. He watched the play of the muscles in her arms, trying to protect the exposed hollows of her underarms. At one point she had tried to rip the cuffs from their steel eye bolts. He’d straddled her waist to hold her in place. The bondage rack was never in danger of giving way, it had been built to his exact specifications. He knew that straddling his playthings just increased their feelings of helplessness as he had his way with them. There was a keen psychological aspect to his cruel sensuality.
He taunted her with how she’d brought items of her own demise. Rifling through her handbag he found some treasures. The make up brush which he flicked across her nipples and the plastic hairbrush whose bristles sent her into orbit when he scrubbed them across her soles.
For hours, he had taken her to the border of ecstasy before plunging her back into the depths of torment. His hunger was insatiable and having pinballed her between tickle heaven and tickle hell, he had changed his focus.
He focused on her neck, her breasts, her lower belly and her hips. He stoked the liquid heat growing in her loins, eliciting moans and trembling. He nearly came when she sighed and bit her bottom lip. It was so fucking adorable.
The damp spot on her bikini briefs told him she was ready.
Bending his head towards her he whispered, “Tell me what you want?”
He nibbled her neck as she fought to compose herself and reply.
Swallowing hard, she told him.
“I can’t hear you,” he smiled, flicking the tip of his tongue around her earlobe. “Say it again. Louder.”
She said it again.
“Louder. Beg for it.” His fingertip traced the edge of her bikini panties.
And oh how she begged, an edge of panic to her voice as if she feared he might deny her.
“Well then,” he planted a chaste kiss on her lips, taking her by surprise, “you shall have what you desire.”
He freed the ankle cuffs from the bolts on the rack and re-attached them to the stirrup arms of the table, spreading and raising her legs.
Two quick jerks at her waist and the ties of her bikini panties came loose. She raised her hips for him, helping remove them. Any residual coyness from when he had started to strip her earlier that night had long since evaporated. The panties joined the rest of her clothing on the floor.
“The blindfold?” He said.
“Please may I keep it?.”
“Of course.” Another chaste kiss as his fingertips traced her shaven mound.
He saw her breath catch in her throat as she heard the sounds of his belt buckle and zipper opening.
When he was naked, he mounted the rack. He kissed each of her toes and raked his nails down her arches. Her hips rolled as she moaned.
In truth, this was just the cherry on top of the sundae. The hours he had spent worshipping and tormenting her body, that was the ice cream, the hot fudge sauce and the sprinkles. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy this though.
He gripped her hips and pressed himself against her.
“Please,” she said, “I need it.”
He thrust himself inside her, all the way to the hilt.
She squealed and moaned with delight as he rode her to glory.
