Whilst the logical part of my brain implores me to struggle, to fight against you, the deep, devilish side of me - the one that I have attempted to repress and restrain - begs for more. I have never wanted anything as much as you.
As you saunter towards me, you tuck the item into your back pocket. Clothes, you assured me as you stripped me of mine, were a privilege that I had not yet earned. At the foot of the bed, you assess me, monitoring my breathing, checking my face for any hint of hesitation.
'Please,' I moan, my desperate breath catching in my throat.
Your body envelops mine. The cotton of your shirt rubs against my nipples, which harden, beg for further attention. You kiss me deeply, your body melting into mine. My eyes drift shut. As they do so, you pull the item from your pocket and tie the blindfold across my face.
Deprived of sight, I hear you stand and open a drawer. Unable to ascertain what item you have reached for, I bite my lip, overcome with anticipation.
A feather-like softness runs along my body - the telltale trailing of our flogger. I love the flogger. I hate the flogger.
The dichotomy is tantalising.
You run the threads along my stomach. The leather kisses my skin. It is too pleasurable to bear.
Thwack. You strike my left tit.
My back arches in agony. A low moan escapes my throat. Ecstasy tears through my body.
Again, you slide the exquisite item along my body, stroking along my legs. You stroke a fire across my thighs, exploring upwards, towards my dripping cunt which burns and aches with want.
The flogger strikes across my clit. The force almost brings me to climax. My scream reverberates through the room.
The sound catalyses a fury in you. Ever the hedonist, you are finely attuned to the whims of my body and know how to play with the balance of pain and pleasure necessary to facilitate an orgasm. With quick succession, the flogger flies against my flesh. My legs, my stomach, my breasts. The tails kiss my skin, painting me with pleasurable pain.
'Yes,' I moan.
Suddenly, the strikes stop. I hear a thud as the flogger falls to the floor. Your body is on top of mine, the warmth of your skin pressing against the sores that you caused. You kiss me, deeply, wantonly. I want you so badly; want to pull you closer, to hold you, to feel you move inside of me.
Instinctively, as though you are aware of my every thought, you straddle my shoulders. Your cock is mere inches away from my mouth. I try to manoeuvre my head so that I can taste you. You chuckle at my futile efforts, a stark reminder of your control. With agonising slowness, you slip your cock into my open, wanting mouth and begin to fuck my face.
I struggle to accommodate your girth. Your pace quickens, your cock hits the back of my throat. You are animalistic, visceral. Even pinned to the bed, I see you throw your head back: a Greek god trapped in the throws of euphoria.
Your hands reach back to pinch my nipples. Hard. Pain tears through my body and I convulse against the restraints. The black cords pull taught, further trapping me. Your cock slips deeper into my throat, blocking my airflow.
Just as my lack of oxygen registers and my body begins to panic, you pull back. Air floods my body and I drink it in, gratefully. When my body has relaxed, you pry my mouth open and resume fucking my throat.
Your member swells in my mouth and I swirl my tongue around your delectable hardness. I can taste the salty-sweetness of your pre-cum and work harder, desperate to bring you to climax. I moan wantonly, happy to be used by you. My moans send vibrations along your cock, drawing you closer to the edge of release.
My efforts are rewarded when you throw your head back, force your cock to the base of my throat. Your entire body shudders as you fill my mouth with your seed. I swallow greedily, lick my lips, fearful of wasting any excess.
Your eyes shine with pride and you wipe my mouth gently. Planting a gentle kiss on my nose, you unclip the cuffs and curl your body around mine.
I snuggle into the warmth of your body and sigh contentedly. 'Thank you,' I smile.