It began with laying in the middle of the bed, putting on a blindfold. The vast majority of our scenes begin with such a start.
I was caned on the thighs and butt for much longer than normal, rhythmic to the songs to help lull a quiet mind as it is hypnotic. His fists were next; there is something about knuckles sinking deep into muscles that feels amazing even as it hurts. Punched primarily on thighs, my body jerked with the impact, pressed more fully into the bed. Next, he instructed me to roll over so he could cane nipples – not something that we’ve done much of. The front side of my body was warm from being against the mattress, my backside heated from sting and impact; perhaps it was the warmth that allowed my nipples to handle it much better than I would have imagined. The stinging rod came down and set the already sensitive nubs further alive, more responsive, created a triangle of sensation from nipple to tense low and make me wet.
Rope was sensually strung and rubbed over skin: the inside of my wrists, thighs parted to welcome the twisted fibers, between lips where those same fibers felt rougher amid such sensitivity, breasts and of course the overly receptive nipples. He was unhurried, deliberate in the trail that the rope would follow, created paths that awakened my entire body to touch – not just the more focused upon areas. As wrists were tied, he directed whichever attached hand to grip his cock, and wrapped the rope while receiving treatment from my palm and fingers. I felt his desire growing, a brief interruption as one hand was tied up before the other hand was guided to continue such explorations.
Legs were folded ankle to back of thigh, pressed painfully together tightly in rope, before pulled wide apart at the knees and tied where I felt exposed. The room fan more fully showcased how parted my lips were as the breeze in the room touched wet pink places. A Doxy wand was tied in and barred the breeze’s access between my thighs, pressed at my entrance, began on a low rumble. Eventually, he slowly increased speed as he played with my body with caressing fingertips and his gifted mouth.
“How many orgasms?”
I was unsure, took a guess of three.
“Not enough.” He pressed the wand even harder against my wetness, increased the vibrations until I felt far too overstimulated, thighs tensed and made the rope more painful around. He replaced the scream in my mouth with his cock, sound vibrations reverberated along his shaft through another orgasm before allowing me to breathe.
His mouth was attentive to my nipples, those torturous pinpoints of pleasure throughout my orgasmic torment of the wand.
I begged him to fuck me; he teased me that something else would be inside of me; used my mouth instead, again through another orgasm.
Mercilessly, the wand throbbed between my legs. I begged for it to stop, for him to be inside of me. Again, I received a substitute as he inserted an anal plug – the edge touching the wand and reverberating the vibrations throughout the plug.
Begged again. This time the wand was stopped and rope was casually removed between my thighs holding the toy as his hot mouth slanted down and tongue tasted my orgasms, his fingers occasionally joining in to brush against the sides of my wet lips or delving into my depths.
Already overworked with sensations, his mouth was divine torture. I tensed against his lips, would have grinded myself more fully into his face except he was still unhurriedly untying my thighs. A brief respite as the rope was removed far too quickly to give a true break in passion.
Still, I begged him to fuck me. He denied me yet again, this time a vibrator was inserted deeply into my drenched depths, slammed in and out. I arched, having full access to my body again, almost came off the bed as I came in sharp waves of pleasure.
I didn’t know how much more I could take, begged he take me instead. He commented on all my begging, encouraged me to let him know how badly I wanted him. When he heard enough, my hands finally felt the purchase of his shoulders, his hips cushioned between my thighs, the head of his cock pressed through the initial resistance of my entrance before pushing down into my body.
Unlike his more slow teasing and taunting up to this point, he kept up a maddening quick pace with sex, rammed almost painfully against my walls, made me come all the more harder from the impact, changed the positions after every couple of orgasms he took from me. Once, when I was rolled over on all fours with knees on the edge of the bed, he grabbed the Doxy wand as he was thrusting in and out and pressed it against the anal plug; my body tensed with the additional sensation and pushed against him and the wand. As he rocked in and out, I felt the plug moving with his hips and cock. I clenched around him in my own orgasms, felt him finally find his own release.
Sweaty, panting, exhausted, I crumpled onto the mattress and he chuckled as he snuggled around my prone form.
Though that led to more caressing, more playing, as my responsiveness tempted him to continue. I asked for his fingers to be shoved in and stretch, wanted to feel more sore in my cunt, screamed through an orgasm that he granted. He lifted my legs, curled them up to gain access to the back of my thighs and bottom to punch, eventually getting tired and moved to his forearms making contact instead of fists, occasionally the impact touched my soaked lips and the plug, created further tension that eventually led to another orgasm.
Tempted by my reactions, again we had so much sex that this time I begged in and out of pleasurable waves of consciousness. Begged to stop, begged not to stop, screamed yes, screamed no. He pounded in and out of my confused pleas until he found his own orgasm.
Snuggled for the second time, his fingers lazily grazed against my skin, made their way between my legs. “You’re so swollen,” he murmured against my ear, which apparently meant I needed to be treated to my vibrator. An orgasm tore through my body and I was unaware of my reaction as I launched away from him, grabbed the vibrator out and threw it on the floor far away from me. He laughed at my unexpected defense instinct against overwhelming pleasure and called a truce.
Exhausted, prompted to clean myself up, he then tucked me in between the sheets and left me alone to pass out into a deep and well deserved sleep the rest of the night.