tagBDSMC is for Coconut

C is for Coconut

byKMcT©

On Sunday, I email a picture of my bruised bottom, as requested. I also include one of my breasts so you can see the myriad of marks you have left there too.

I awake on Monday morning to the most delicious email, which has me stretching and wriggling on the bed with a massive grin.

He has taken to calling me Tigress, a reference perhaps to my new stripes... He flatters me shamelessly, calling me 'smart' and looking forward to both challenging and being challenged.

I return with something similarly flattering, though as usual I probably reveal more about myself than tell him anything he doesn't already know. Our emails swap back and forth, until I receive my challenge.

I'm not sure if you realize how galling this is to me, but something tells me you have a damned good idea....

"I want you to get yourself some nasty, slutty knickers.

You know the sort of thing that Top Shop sells to teenagers - pink thongs with the words 'taste my cherry' printed on the front in lime green, that sort of thing. The thong bit is absolutely vital, and the pinkness is important too (but any garish colour would do in a pinch). Other attributes, such as cheesy slogans, or pictures, or sheerness would be helpful, but are less critical.

I want you to have sent me a picture of you wearing them by the time I get home - at around midday on Friday.

Think you'll be able to manage that?"

I groan. This is just about my worst nightmare. I love lingerie. I am nervous and awkward about my body and the one thing that gives me confidence is wearing nice pants and bras. I like them to match, often they are large, cut to vintage styles and designed to show glimpses and tantalize, even if no one else will see but me. A thong is about the most repugnant thing I can imagine, and the colour pink is also to be reviled.

How can I do this? And if I do, how on earth could you EVER find me attractive after seeing me in something so vile?

I argue with myself, I send you a grumpy reply. I just can't help myself.

And yet...

And yet, I want to prove I can rise to any challenge you set me. My stubbornness and bloody-minded determination kick into overdrive and I decide I will find a way to complete your task.

On my way home from work I call into the shops. Surprisingly, the naff thongs you refer to are no longer as evident as once they were. Thankfully I suppose this means girls have realized good knickers are so much sexier and comfy...

Shamefully I trek from store to store, blushing as I head directly to the nastiest underwear they have on display. I grow determined, if I have to do this, I will make damned sure I find the most hideous undergarments London has to offer...

Finally I see them. Not just hot pink -- they are practically luminescent, dyed with radioactive pigment. In addition, they are made of horrid, artificial lace, cut to sit low, creating a horrible shape on any who dared to wear such a thing. The final, crowning glory however is the diamantes, a row of four, then three tiny little gems at the front. As I hand them over at the till I have to resist the urge to run, to stick my head in a paper bag, somehow to hide. The clerk handles them like the radioactive filth they are and I blush with embarrassment and anger at you for leading me to this moment.

Back home I take the photos and hope, without much confidence, that this will be the end of their place in my life. The images are truly, awful and I wonder if they will turn you off me for good.

Finally you return from your trip and you message me with instructions for our next date.

"Your safe word will be 'coconut', and I want you to be wearing the knickers when you arrive. Yes, those ones. Really. Don't worry; it'll be the last time you ever have to put them on..."

I growl and swear at the computer, but Monday rolls around and here I am, on your doorstep wearing the vile thong under my clothes.

We share a whisky by the fire and you question me about my experiences and reactions to the challenge. I struggle not to be too sulky as I answer your questions. The sadistic grin and twinkle in your eye soften me, and by the end of my recount I am getting moist, excited by what else you may have in stall for me.

"And you're wearing them now?"

"Yes," I blush.

"Show me, take off your clothes."

I strip, slowly removing my tights, pulling my top over my head and lingering over the bra. I pause, I have left my skirt till last on purpose, putting off the inevitable. As the skirt is removed, you take a sharp breath.

"You did well Bitch, they really are terrible."

I growl quietly.

"Stand up; show me," you command.

I rise and slowly turn for your amusement. Completely naked apart from the hot pink thong.

"Hands behind your back. Hold your elbows with your hands."

You get up and retrieve a bundle of rope from its bag. I shiver in anticipation, the smell of it hitting me as you approach and electrifying my senses.

Slowly you begin to bind my arms and chest, checking periodically that I can still move and feel my fingers. Each pull of the rope through the knots vibrates through my body and I am getting wetter between my legs. I revel in the sensation of rope sliding across and around my body, the pressure as it hugs and contains me, the smell of the oils imbedded in the cord...

My breathing grows ragged and I am turning to putty in your hands.

You pull something from your pocket and move behind me. A blindfold is pulled over my head and you tie it securely. I feel you moving round, adjusting it to ensure I am completely blind.

And then you leave me...

I stand there excited, nervous, shivering despite the warmth of the fire behind me. Time slows in the darkness and I focus on the sounds I can hear. Rustling next door, the crack of the fire, a creak of the floorboards.

You return to the room and move me to lie on a cushioned table and, a little awkwardly with my arms bound, I settle on my stomach.

After a few sharp spanks to my exposed rear, you pull my left ankle up to meet my warmed, rosy buttock. Ropes begin to coil around my leg and I try to hold the position as best I can.

Once the binding is secure I find it is actually surprisingly comfortable, the firm rope holding my leg in place so I no longer have to. You move on to the right leg, binding it back like the left and I focus on the thrum of the rope as it pulls tightly against my skin.

"Spread your legs."

I oblige, opening them as wide as I can manage on my narrow couch.

I feel more rope winding between my arms and they are being brought up to meet my ankles until I am hogtied securely, my back arching and muscles stretching into the new position. I wriggle my fingers and toes to check the blood is still flowing and my heart is pounding with excitement. I am practically panting with the anticipation.

The spell is broken as I feel cool, sharp metal running up my leg. I'm acutely aware of how vulnerable I am all of a sudden. How long have I known you for? A few weeks -- and here I am completely at your mercy...

The knife runs up my arse cheeks and slips under the hideous thong.

"This does somewhat ruin this little picture, shall we remove it?"

"Yes! Yes, yes please," I nod my head excitedly.

The fabric pulls briefly and then I hear the material separating against the sharp blade. The thong comes away and I sigh with relief and happiness that they have now been destroyed. I'll never have to wear them again.

"Thank you!" I sigh.

You caress my now completely naked body and I quiver with the flood of sensation, every touch amplified by my blindness.

"The benefit of tying you up like this, Kitten, is that it leaves you completely open to me." Knowing what a sadist you are, this sounds more than a little ominous... All I can manage is a whimper in reply.

"Oh my Kitten, you're so wet. Did you enjoy me tying you up?"

"Yes, Sir" I reply

You move around me, approaching my head and I make little whimpers and sighs as you touch me.

"Open your mouth," You command.

Smiling I do as you command enjoying the taste of your fingers as the slip between my lips. I stop smiling as they are replaced by nasty, scratchy material entering my mouth. You tie the despised thong around my head, with the gusset, soaked in my juices on my tongue.

"Mnmrfmrrrrphrmerrr!" I growl through the thong.

Ignoring my protests you establishing that I can just about enunciate "Coconut" through the gag, and move away. I hear something rattling and clinking in a bowl. I tense in anticipation and I am rewarded with the shock of ice, leaving cold trails around my back.

You place the cubes on my back, I think they are nestled slightly on the knots of my chest harness and they chill my skin painfully.

"For every cube that falls, you'll receive a black mark, and you know what that means."

I still my squirming; acutely aware of the cane strokes I will receive for any marks. My bottom warms with the memory of the pain felt by that thin, switchy cane of yours.

The ice continues to melt slightly, sending trickles of freezing water down my back and sides. You run a cube between my pussy lips, up and down, mingling cold water with my juices, up, up and I feel pressure against my crinkled anus.

You push the cube inside me and I cry out. It hurts, burning and freezing at the same time, stretching me in ways I'm not used to. Tears well up in my eyes and I strain a little at my tight bindings.

This sends more icy water trickling down my back from where it has pooled and I am reminded that I must not dislodge the cubes. I moan and cry, sucking in air around the fabric in my mouth to try and calm myself and releasing the taste of my juices soaked in to the fabric.

I am tempted to say our safe word, coconut, but I am determined. I want to know what else you have planned for me, and I am keen to take as much as I can.

Once you can see I am starting to regain some balance you shift my world again.

Little pricks of heat land on my feet and it takes all I have not to jump in reaction. The wax drops pick up in frequency and they move up my legs, eventually concentrating on my thighs and occasionally landing on my wet cunt. I moan with pleasure as the sensations build and the contrast between the cold ice and the hot wax.

You must move the candle closer as the wax drips get hotter, then there is a pause. The dripping starts up again, but even hotter than before, and I struggle not to squirm, emitting little whimpers and mewls. I want to move, if only to hump my sensitive bottom in reaction to the hot thuds of molten wax. This only serves to amplify the pain caused by the still melting cube inserted in my anus and I cry out around the gag, overloaded with sensation and my own taste, all the more potent in the dark behind my blindfold...

The wax stops, though it takes me a few moments to realize I am so absorbed in sensation. Your fingers explore the folds and curves of my cunt, spreading my wetness around and oh, how much there is to spread. I moan behind the gag, reveling in the feel of your fingers slipping inside me until they move upwards and your finger begins to probe a different hole.

"Oow-wow-wow-woe!" I gasp through the gag.

It feels wrong having your finger sliding in my tight arse-hole. The ice has melted but it is still so sensitive and I can't help tensing around you and it becomes even more uncomfortable. I try to relax, and as I do so it becomes more pleasurable, but strange, so very, very strange. Discomfort flares again as you insert another digit inside me.

"That's two fingers inside your arse now Kitten," You murmur, "Have you ever had two fingers inside your arse-hole before?"

"Mnoow," I meekly reply.

You slide them in and out, and I whimper and mewl, drool beginning to gather at my lips as I struggle to swallow round the lurid thong in my mouth. They withdraw slowly, only to be replaced with something harder and unyielding. I can't tell what it is. A plug perhaps?

"My what a lovely candleholder you make,"

You drip a little more wax from the other candle on my buttocks, causing them to clench around the candle in my anus. It feels wrong, and dirty, and sore, but I like it.

Eventually you remove the candle and I lie, flexing my muscles in the tight rope, lost in an overload of sensation, pleasure and pain.

It is in fact the scraping of a knife across my skin, removing the wax from my body which wakes me from my reverie.

At first it feels nice, the wax peeling from my skin and the grazing of the blaze, but as my brain reengages, I am increasingly aware that you are using a knife on me.

You move around in front of me and you whisper in my ear.

"Have you ever been cut Kitten?" You ask.

"Mmnmfnwooow" I murmur round my gag. Acutely aware of my inability to communicate clearly, I shake my head frantically. I wish for the first time that I were not blindfolded so you can see the fear and desperation in my eyes.

"What was that Kitten?

I gather myself as best I can, sucking saliva through my filthy gag and swallowing.

"Mnnow Thser," I can feel the cold metal of the blade held against my face and go deathly still.

You continue to run the knife around my face and down my throat. I try not to whimper but I am utterly terrified. My mind is buzzing without grasping any thoughts. The knife disappears and I pant in relief. Sensation floods back and I am aware again of the painful dripping intensity of the ice on the small of my back but this is nothing compared to what is to come.

The knife blade returns, now running down my thigh. Slowly it moves down and down, closer to my wet, quivering cunt. As you slide it up between the slippery folds, I am screaming in my mind. I am incapable of thought as every fiber of my being is desperately focused on staying as still as possible. My breath comes in short little gasps as the cold metal runs up and around my clit.

No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no is all I can think. 'Coconut', is on the tip of my lips and it takes so much self-control not to cry it out.

It moves lower again and now I feel your fingers sliding around the entrance to my vagina, briefly embarrassment flickers through my mind as I realize just how very, very wet I am. You slide them slowly inside me but something doesn't feel right. I tense my muscles involuntarily and realize you still have the blade between your fingers as they move slowly further and further inside me. The fingers withdraw but you have left the knife inside me and my body is now humming with fear and tension.

The knife twists a little and a tiny mewl of terror escapes my lips. Slowly, very, very slowly, you begin to withdraw the knife.

My breathing stops.

I am amazed that there is so much to remove. It feels as though 8 inches or more have been taken out. Once it is gone I finally breathe again.

As I drift back to earth, I wonder how much more I can take. I am terrified of what may come next.

"Well done Bitch," you say softly, and I fill with pride at these words.

"I think its time for you to have a reward. But only if you promise not to cum. Can you do that for me?"

"Mm-hmm," I moan in agreement, uncertain what will come next.

A low buzzing resonates through the room and I manage a little smile in anticipation. I know that noise!

You touch the magic wand, on a low setting to the outside of my pussy lips and I let out a long, slow groan. Expertly the wand is manipulated around the outside of my cunt and I am so sensitive I am already on the brink of orgasm.

I try hard not to moan, hoping my restraint will make it easier to hold onto control, but as the vibrator hits the knot touching my clit I scream through the gag. All thought of quiet control gone as it takes every fiber of my being not to tip over the edge as wave upon wave of pleasure crashes against me, threatening to take me over.

I don't really know how long this exquisite torture goes on for. At some point my body manages to keep from bucking and dislodging the last fragments of ice from my back, but this must be from some part of my subconscious fear of that nasty cane as my mind is totally taken up with pleasure and the need to hold it back.

Finally you give me permission to cum, raising the intensity of the vibrations and pressing the wand hard against the rope. My body spasms and every part of me is overwhelmed as orgasms crash down on me again and again.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but eventually you begin to untie me, gently releasing me from the rope, each vibration setting off spasms of pleasure as it thrums out of the knots.

The blindfold is removed and I blink in the sudden light. As I regain focus I see your face before me and I stretch my neck to kiss you, reveling in the feel of your lips against mine. You pull the gag from my mouth and kiss me again. I try to thank you but my tongue is stiff and awkward from the prolonged confinement and we laugh at my rare tongue-tied induced moment of quiet.

You help me to my feet and wrap me in a blanket, hugging me and kissing my lips, my cheeks, my forehead. Once I am settled on the sofa in front of the dying fire you bring me a whisky and hold me close, making sure I am ok. I am so smitten at your inventiveness and capacity for teasing and giving pleasure. So proud of myself for my control, not only holding on to experience everything without the safe word, but also for maintaining focus and holding every cube on my back till the end.

I can't wait for D...

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