The leather felt cool and soft on my skin as the straps were tightened to a sung fit around my wrists. Nothing was spoken; the rules of engagement had been specified earlier in the day, my safe word agreed upon. What was and was not allowed already determined. Her name was Sara, her last name unknown and unimportant. She came recommended by a friend, a very trusted friend who had an idea of what I might like.
My uniform lay strewn on the floor after having been practically torn from my body. Sara wore red and black, a red sheer fabric top and black leather pants. The pants were so tight I'm sure it took several hops for her thin thighs and waist to sink into them. Her hair was short and blonde the first time she topped me. I'm certain it has changed colors with each successive visit, though it is those memories that are foggy, not this one. My first time is etched into my soul like the feelings I had the first time I made love to a woman, or the first time I met my long-term partner. It's not something you forget easily, the details are like a tattoo or a scar, it's permanent, it's a part of me.
My friend gave me her name and number after we wondered into a fetish store one night and I was unable to stop touching the leather wrist and ankle restraints. She could see my intrigue was more than innocent curiosity. That was three weeks before my first time. I had always been interested in the idea of tying a partner up but had never experimented with the reality, and the notion of being bound myself had never crossed my mind.
My position as the commander of my unit had required me to maintain a strict amount of discipline among my soldiers as well as myself, which resulted in the need and desire to manage my self-control not only while in uniform but also in bed with my lovers. I often was the top in bed, but I wasn't against being the bottom. Being a top doesn't mean I never got fucked, it just means I got fucked when and how I wanted it. It took a strong bottom for me to enjoy getting fucked, and in my experience those are few and far between.
I didn't know what to expect when I met Sara the first time. It's kind of like going on a blind date and not knowing if the person you're meeting is going to scare the hell out of you, make you laugh, or make you wish you hadn't left your cell phone in the car. Sara was and still is very attractive, a fit woman who takes care of her body. Her smile was soft but there was something hidden behind her blue eyes as we discussed the logistics over coffee at a café a few blocks from her house.
As soon as we entered her living room the domination began, "go to the back room and take off your clothes. Wait for me there." She said pointing to the hallway that lead to the rear of the house.
"Why?" I asked.
"Don't ask questions. That's not what you're here for. Do not speak unless I ask you a question or tell you to," she responded in a very firm tone.
I did as I was told. I walked down the long narrow hallway that ended at the nearly pitch black room. I sat down on a black wooded bench and began to untie my high-gloss shoes removing them slowly and setting them side-by-side, placing my black socks neatly inside of them.
The beat of my heart quickened as I heard Sara's footsteps coming towards me from down the hall. I had begun unbuttoning my uniform jacket when she entered the room. "You're not undressed," she said looking at me from the doorway.
"Don't speak," she cut me off, "or I'll make it so that you can't."
She stormed over to me, grabbed me by the sides of my arms and stood me up. My first instinct was to throw her to the ground in self defense, but this urge was over come by her pulling my jacket off my shoulders locking my arms behind my back and ripping open my freshly pressed shirt revealing a lose fitting black sports bra covering my breasts. "Do I need to tear your pants off too?" I shook my head no, "Then hurry up and get them off, I don't care if you want to fold them or not, just throw them on the floor, or you wont be able to wear them home."
Her sternness truly excited me. I wasn't accustomed to being ordered around in the bedroom, nor would I have normally tolerated such behavior. However I did as I was told and quickly removed my trousers and threw them to the ground. I stood there in my bra and underwear, waiting for her next command.
"You've got to be kidding me? I know you're not that shy, those can't stay on either." She said pointing at my bra. Sara was standing at the other side of the dark room unrolling a black cloth case filled with who only knows. I drew a deep breath and lifted my bra over my head fully exposing my nipples to the slight coolness of the room; they became erect as I bent over and lifted my feet out of the leg holes in my boxer briefs.
"Come here," she commanded. I walked quickly over to her; my speed was reminiscent of the time I had spent in Officer Candidate School. "Sit down," she pointed at another all black-wooded bench situated in front of me. The bench was about four feet wide and about seven feet long. It truly resembled an implement of torture used during the Middle Ages to elicit confessions from enemies of the state. Its presences scared the hell out of me, but with time I learned to enjoy the time I spent on it, on my back.
I sat down straddling the bench. She touched my shoulder, "lay down. Don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you, unless you want me to," she said grinning as I began to lean back on the unforgiving boards. The lack of padding caused my shoulder blades to ache with discomfort and accentuated the curve of my back.
"You remember what we talked about?" she asked as she moved my arms and hands above my head. I nodded as confirmation that I remembered that my safe word was blue and that I was to use it if at any point I became very uncomfortable or in the event that I felt serious pain.
A million thoughts and pictures began running through my mind as Sara moved from my wrists to my ankles latching them to the bench the same way she had restrained my arms. She had become silent, her breathing the only noise my ears could detect. The room remained dark due to the thick heavy curtains blocking the rays of the setting sun from entering fully but allowing me to see just enough to know what was going on. The darkness helped with my mood, with the mystique of the encounter.
She began running the tips of her fingers through my short hair, the tingling this elicited ran through my body and calmed my nerves. "So you like being in charge," she asked. I nodded my response afraid of speaking, "This will be good for you then."
I closed my eyes as I thought about the person I had been casually seeing for the past few months. I wondered if she would be opposed to this random encounter, if by lying here I would be disrespecting her or if I had broken any boundaries. I had refused to call her my girl friend she was simply someone I was seeing nothing too serious, but still I wondered if it might bother her to know that this was happening.
I snapped out of these thoughts as I felt a cool metallic item touch my stomach. I had no idea what it was; I was unable to lift my head high enough to see that far down my body. I could only use my senses to determine what the object was. The instrument was used to scratch what would certainly be visible marks onto my body. I had never been touched in such a way and I moaned with pleasure as the item was brought close enough for my eyes to see the sharpness of the edge of the blade.
I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with the size of the knife, nor the fact that it was being used to induce such feelings of pleasure. I had never thought of using something so potentially dangerous as a means of pleasing someone or myself, but the more it caressed my breasts the more I wanted it to touch other parts of my body.
My mind traveled back to the conversation Sara and I had earlier. "How do you like to be fucked," she asked as I fidgeted with my coffee mug.
"Ah, I like to fuck first, then get fucked if I still have any energy left," I responded trying to determine what she was searching for.
"That's nice, but what do you like?"
"I'm not following."
"Where do you like to be touched? Where do you have sensation? Do you like penetration or are you opposed to cock? Do you follow me now?"
"So, then answer the question," she looked at me as she sipped her tea.
"Penetration is fine. I've never used a strap-on before." As I answered her question I felt my face turn red with embracement. "My back has the most sensation," I continued. "My breasts almost nothing."
"Are you ticklish?"
"Yes, I'm very ticklish..."
"I don't need to know where, I'll find that out on my own," she said stopping me from continuing my answer.
As she moved the tip of the knife down the side of my ribcage I was unable to stop myself from trying to escape its touch. It wasn't a tickle and it didn't hurt, it was insanely pleasing and this sensation made me crave much more.
What came next was completely unexpected. Sara positioned herself at the head of the bench and knelt down just above my head, moving herself along my restrained hands. I felt the bulge in her tight leather pants. The size of her cock was unbelievable as I rubbed my hand down its length. I had never been with a man and I was proud of the fact that I didn't need a fake dick to make a woman cum but I was overly excited and I wanted her inside of me.
She unzipped the fly of her pants and revealed its true shape and size to me. My heart began to race. It was smooth in my hands, nothing like I had expected. I took it as best I could fully in my hand and began to rub the end of it with my thumb. It fit snuggly in my palm. It had already been prepared, fully protected in a lubricated condom. I wanted to feel more of it but my restrained hands were not capable of reaching all the way up the shaft. I slid my hands up and down its length as best I could pulling it closer to my eyes trying to get Sara to come closer to me. I wanted her cock in my mouth. I wanted to feel its fullness with my tongue, to fantasize about her cuming in my mouth.
I felt it completely slip out of my hands as Sara stood-up, and I knew it had been just a tease when I heard the zipper of her pants close as she walked back over to the table at the foot of the bench.
I could see nothing; I was still captivated with the thought of sucking her to the point of orgasm. My entire body jerked and pulled at the restraints with the sharp intense pain caused by the first fast hard strike of the lash. The cracking sound echoed through the room as it fell upon my hard body over and over again. The repeated strikes induced a sense of euphoria, a high I had never experienced before, a high I never thought possible. I wanted to cry out, but I wasn't sure if it would be a cry of pleasure or pain.
My breaths quickened and the contact became harder with each repetitive strike. My body became ridged, failing to relax itself between lashings. The chains attached to my wrist cuffs pulled so tight I thought they might break. Several times my safe word almost passed over my lips, but I didn't want her to stop. I waned her to fuck me, to make me come, to slam her hard cock into my cunt. I craved its thickness and its length. When I heard the popping sound of latex on her hands I knew I was about to be fucked. My cunt had been tight since I first sat down with her at the café and I wondered if she would start slow or just slam herself into me.
She released my ankle restraints and rolled me over on my knees. She unlocked part of the bench and shortened its length to a mere four feet. My wrists were still bound to the unforgiving chains and I longed for something to support myself with. I was forced to hold my position without anything other than my own strength.
I felt her hands on my ass as she parted my ass cheeks. The height of the bench was perfect, my ass was level with her waist, and there was no need on her part to adjust my position. Her cock was cold and smooth as she forced it into my tight cunt without mercy. I yelled out in pain, but the stinging didn't last long and was soon replaced by a warm fullness. Sara's rhythm was perfect as she slowly pulled her cock almost completely out of me and then slammed its full length back inside of me, forcing me to hold tightly onto the edge of the bench to keep from being pushed off.
I had no idea that she had stopped and had removed the restraints until I felt her sit me up and begin to hold me close to her own body. She stroked my hair and asked me how I was, if I was doing okay. Once I had calmed down she helped me get dressed and walked me to my car. I thought that she was joking when she told me she would call me in a few days, but she wasn't and she did. She had called just to check in with me, to make sure I was still okay with things. I was, but I was still feeling amazingly high and full of sexual energy.
She told me she would call occasionally to check in with me and not to hesitate to call her if I needed to. This became a ritual with us. After we played we would call and check in with each other it was comforting and assisted with coming down from my flying sensations.
Sara and I tried something new today and I look forward to talking with her later in the week as we always do.