An Intense Evening

Connie shudders less violently this time, whimpering happily as the final sparks of her intense climax smolder deep within her. Lost in the darkness of the blindfold, she is vaguely aware of Aaron crawling up her body, then tastes herself as he kisses her deeply. Instinctively, she tries to wrap her arms around him, but is thwarted once again by the chains connecting her wrist cuffs to the posts of the headboard. She does, however, have free movement of her legs - at least for now - so she tightly wraps her thighs around him instead.

Eventually, the kiss - and the gentle fondling of her chest - ends, somewhat to Connie's disappointment. Aaron extricates himself from the grip of her thighs and removes the blindfold. Even the bedroom's dim candlelight at first seems extremely bright to her, especially as her partner slips off the bed and out of her field of vision, allowing the full light of the candles scattered around the bedroom to shine upon her. One of the candles heats an oil diffuser on a nearby dresser, so as her eyes slowly adjust to the "bright" light, she breathes deeply, enjoying the sweet scent of oranges from the heated oil yet fully aware of her own musky scent in the air.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the lighting, the young submissive slowly looks around the bedroom, but her companion is nowhere to be seen. Being left alone while bound is not unusual, and typically means that Aaron is preparing the next part of an evening's play session. So she relaxes, listening to the soft hum of the furnace, savoring the feel of the comforter underneath her bare body, gently tugging at her bonds to test how little slack she has been granted. As the wetness trickling from deep within cools upon her skin, she rubs her thighs together, warming the sweet fluid and wishing his tongue was still licking within her feminine folds.

Wondering how much time has passed, Connie looks toward the clock - but it has been purposely turned to face away from her. Her watch is atop one of the dressers, but it is too far away to read the time. Since time obviously has no meaning when one cannot judge the rate of its passing, the young woman closes her eyes once more, focuses her concentration, and begins to count her own heartbeats.

Five hundred forty-seven heartbeats later, she loses count. Opening her eyes again, she notices that the candles have all burned a little lower. She considers calling out for her partner, but then realizes that this is likely a test, or perhaps a lesson, in her gradual development in the realm of bondage play.

Feeling the muscles of her arms starting to ache with stiffness, she struggles - feebly, but it is fortunately enough to provide some relief, especially to her shoulders. Even without knowing how much time has really passed, she is certain that she has never before been left alone in bondage for quite so long. That realization creates a minor sense of fear, but she is able to ward off the desire to struggle in earnest and call for the dominant. Struggling would be natural, she reasons - a logical result of the "fight or flight" instinct - but would perhaps be a sign of disrespect for the loving dominant. Calling for him, however, would be a personal defeat, a painful demonstration that she is not mentally strong and perhaps not worthy of being his submissive.

So Connie closes her eyes once more and permits her mind to wander. Almost immediately, a picture forms in her mind. She imagines Aaron returning, fully nude, his cock long and hard as it bobs like a symphonic conductor's wand with every step. As the images of his climbing upon the bed and mounting her play out in her mind's eye, she can practically feel his fleshy sword sheath itself within her. Her soft sigh is loud in her own ears as she imagines his hands at either side of her head, his face above hers, their eyes permanently locked together as he makes love to her, slowly, respectfully, romantically. Her legs instinctively wrap around his imagined body, her hips counterthrusting in accordance with the images in her mind, her breathing and heartbeat both slowly quickening in sympathetic response.

Opening her eyes at last, she wills her body still once again. Simply thinking about being wonderfully filled has caused her wetness to increase and trickle from her once more, which is slightly embarrassing for her. She quickly looks around the bedroom, hoping that he has not returned to watch the imagined primal dance, but again finds herself completely alone. With a sigh of both relief and disappointment, she closes her eyes and struggles again in her bonds, this time with a little more passion, trying to work the renewed stiffness out of her muscles.

Connie screams with surprise, her eyes snapping open rapidly from being struck across the chest. Aaron has silently entered the bedroom, and now holds a long-tailed whip while wearing nothing but a mischievous smile. Reaching over to the nightstand, he retrieves the blindfold and reapplies it to the beautiful submissive despite her protests.

Another strike across the chest silences the willing captive. Several more less-than-gentle strikes befall her, and soon have her struggling a little before the whipping ends... for the moment. Listening attentively, the restrained beauty "follows" the dominant with her ears. Hearing the rattling of chains, she is almost certain that her legs will soon be restricted, and soon they are as ankle cuffs are applied and attached with chains to the posts at the foot of the bed.

Cautiously, Connie tests the new restraints, finding that they hold her quite securely with rather little slack. Certain that Aaron is standing back and watching her, she struggles a little more, mindful of the "show" she is presenting for him and hoping that it will dissuade him from using the whip upon her again. As she strains against her bonds, she feels her wetness growing, both from her own efforts and from the eyes caressing her.

Yet another startled scream escapes Connie's lips as the whip is brought down fiercely between her legs, reinvigorating her struggles. After a short pause, however, the whip descends gently and repeatedly, treating her to a soft, rhythmic, erotic whipping. Soon, instead of struggling in her bonds, she writhes in her bonds; instead of screams escaping her lips, soft moans escape her lips; instead of dreading each fall of the whip, she welcomes each fall of the whip. The submissive's hips lewdly thrust upward toward the whip, perfectly matching the solid rhythm the dominant has set. Each strike of the whip splatters the sweet fluids flowing from her, but she no longer cares.

As the sensual flogging continues, the submissive's body essentially severs all connections with her conscious mind, causing her to experience the entire scene as if she is having an out-of-body experience. The passion sparking within her, the feel and sound of the soft strikes of the whip, the sound of the chains limiting her movements, the feel of the soft comforter beneath her, the well-worn leather surrounding her ankles and wrists, the splattering of her natural lubrication, the scent of the heated oil, the sound of her own moans and heavy breathing, the quickening pace of her heartbeat, the scent of her own sexuality - everything she hears and feels seems disjointed, disconnected, distant yet internalized, even though she subconsciously knows that they are each an integral facet of her current experience. Yet she is very consciously aware that the release she desperately seeks simply will not come as long as she is pleasantly teased at this level. She yearns for more to achieve another wonderful climax.

She asks for it.

She is ignored; the erotic whipping continues at the same pace.

She pleads for it.

She is ignored; the erotic whipping ceases abruptly.

"No!!!" The ferocity of her own cry takes Connie by surprise, yet it is the perfect vocal representation of her body's need. She begs loudly, struggling desperately despite the conscious knowledge that she cannot break free and finish what Aaron has so wickedly started. Feeling him soon crawl upon the bed, however, gives her some hope; "Please," she requests softly, "please, take me..."

He enters her slowly, but not where she desperately needs to feel him most. Aaron instead slips his hard manhood into her mouth, effectively silencing her. Knowing instinctively what she must do, Connie accepts his invasion, worshipping him, doing everything she can to ensure he is well beyond merely "satisfied" with her work so that he has significant reason to grant her the release she craves. As she continues to please him with her mouth, Connie feels the pillows being rearranged, providing her with a better, more comfortable working angle when he is finished.

A long time passes. The young woman feels the discomfort growing in her jaw, which is likely responsible - at least in part - for the slow decrescendo of the fire within her. The entire situation makes her feel naughty, dirty, even used, but - despite the lack of the desperately-sought release - she feels wonderful, uninhibited... and - despite her bonds - free.

Aaron withdraws at last, allowing Connie to rest. Only now, as she calms herself and regains her breath, is she aware of the sheen of sweat coating her skin. The scent of raw passion is unmistakable in the air, despite the scent of oranges wafting from the oil diffuser. He backs down her body then lays upon her, each hand gently encircling a hard-nippled breast.

Wincing and gasping, Connie is surprised at Aaron's bite on the inside of her right breast. It is clearly not enough to break the skin and draw blood, but it is definitely not a gentle, playful, teasing bite. He continues to bite her feminine orbs in this manner for a long time - she loses count after twenty-four bites - yet she does not protest. Between her gasps and moans, she finds herself begging for more, which subconsciously embarrasses her. Every wicked bite seems to send a cascade of sparks from her chest directly to her core, resulting in a slowly-increasing flow of hot desire trickling from her body.

He at last leaves the bed, leaving the bound woman panting and whimpering from the biting ordeal. Yet she still craves one more orgasm - just one. Being denied that exquisite pleasure is beginning to play terrible games with her mind, yet all Connie can do is beg.

This time, however, she does not. Part of her is defiant, adamant that she will not debase herself any further, no matter how much of a bad girl she secretly wishes to become. Yet even if she were to beg, it would not be for very long, as Aaron returns to the bed and kisses her deeply.

The primal passion within causes her mouth to leap into full no-prisoners attack mode. Like a ravenous tigress tearing into her helpless prey, Connie responds with near-vicious passion; her arms pull forcefully at her bonds, the only things preventing her from clawing her partner's back. Her ears take in her companion's pleasantly-surprised moan of approval, but neither her mind nor her body have a moment to spare to care about or reflect upon that sound, as they are both fully focused upon the partners' rapid-fire, tongue-battling, teeth-gnashing oral exchange. But it is then her turn to moan pleasantly and loudly as a pair of fingers plunge into her burning, soaking depths. Aaron's free hand slides up her right arm to eventually hold her hand, and she squeezes tightly as her passions again spiral toward the breaking point, her excited moans also growing in ferocity as the two fingers continue to violate her.

Aaron releases her hand and breaks the kiss, repositioning himself on the bed for better and deeper access into her core, his thumb strumming her clit as if it were a taut guitar string. As her body is played like an instrument, Connie sings beautifully, the restraints preventing her from thrashing about too severely in response to the ravishing treatment.

At last, the orgasmic dam breaks, sending a flood of sparks throughout her entire being and a fresh deluge of liquid love upon the bed. Time seems to slow greatly for the young submissive, and once again the entire experience seems to be disjointed, even though her senses are fully aware of every impression. There is a minor sense of disappointment when the hand is finally removed from within her, but after the lengthy orgasm denial, Connie finally feels satisfied, sated, fulfilled.

After feeling the dominant move again upon the bed, Connie feels the tip of his solid manhood rub across her lower lip. Instinctively, she tips her head to take him into her mouth once more, and is surprised to taste herself upon him; after so wonderfully touching her, he has apparently touched himself to spread her sweetness upon him. She works happily upon him, listening to his breathing change in response to her actions, inspired by his fists tightening in her hair.

When Aaron finally withdraws, Connie gasps for air. Only now is she aware that she had instinctively limited her breathing while servicing the dominant. Feeling him move off the bed disappoints her somewhat, especially since she had wanted to give him the ultimate pleasure to "repay" him for the thrilling climax he had given her. But she soon has her chance, as her right wrist is released from its cuff and her hand closes directly around his throbbing, hot, meaty shaft. As Connie strokes with loving care, Aaron steps closer to the bed...

...and perhaps a minute later, she feels the result of her efforts splatter across her nose and mouth and begin to trickle down her cheeks and into her hair. His gasps of pleasure as Connie milks every drop of his seed from him fill the young woman with great pride. As he finally releases her other bonds, her free hand massages his natural lotion into her skin, providing her with a most unusual badge of honor.

The embrace they share once she is freed is clear evidence that the evening's events have only strengthened the trust which has linked them for so long, and deepened the love they share.