He sat quietly. No sounds in the house. She was late again. Two hours ago she’d called, said she was finishing up, would be home very shortly. He had the dinner ready, but now it was cold. He watched the chilled wine on the table, droplets of water sliding slowly down the sides, pooling at the bottom.
He was tired. Waiting. His own dinner was untouched, cold, salad wilted, no longer even edible. A feast, gone to waste because she had once again gotten involved in something at work. Perhaps, he thought, she was just not interested. The surprises he’d had, the warmth and the feelings he wanted to share with her now cooled as well.
He remained still as he heard her car pull up. Finally. The headlights shone through the living room window, then flicked off. He waited, heard the car door slam. The key in the lock, clicking. Quietly, the front door opened.
She peeked inside, saw him sitting. Waited for a reaction. Something, anything. And received nothing.
She kicked off her heels, ready with an apology. Padded across the floor, the words ready, her voice suddenly lost as she saw his face, sad, but angry. She found herself on her knees in front of him. Her head lay quietly on his lap. She remained perfectly still, begging him silently not to be angry.
After a time, his hands ran through her hair. Still no sound. He combed it out, slowly, carefully, completely under control, willing himself not to be angry. Instead, he felt himself wanting her, forgiving, but knowing what must come. As he did, his hands tightened in her hair, pulling it, not hard at first, but after gathering a bit of her hair in his hands, he could not contain himself any longer. He yanked back, pulling her head up.
“You’re late again.” His deep voice made her shiver.
“I’m...” She started a reply.
“Shhh. Tonight, we have to put an end to it.”
He arose, held out his hand. “Dinner is ruined, but perhaps there’s time for something else.”
Slowly, curious now, she took his hand, was drawn up. Standing, she nearly reached his height. He took her face in his hands, now, kissed her and then turn, walking toward the bedroom. “I have something for you,” he said over his shoulder.
She followed him, wondering even more. How could he be so patient, so kind, even though she’d continually been late? This was not the one she’d known before. That was certain. A change. Something just below the surface, commanding her attention. He’d always been pleasant, so sweet, so understanding, but somehow she realized that there would be none of this tonight.
In the bedroom, she saw a filmy gown, lying on the bed. He stood next to it, looking down at it.
“Put it on.”
She slowly removed her clothes as he watched. She knew that he loved to see her nude, would run his hands over her body in his mind, touching her, tasting her, feeling her skin. That thought excited her. She wondered what would come next.
Slowly, she slipped the gown over her head under his watchful gaze.
She did. A slow pirouette, hands at her sides, then over her head.
“Stand still now,” he commanded. He bent, reached under the bed. A long crop was in his hand. She reacted, fearful.
“Somehow I knew you’d be late tonight. Decided that it was time to teach you a little lesson.”
She gasped. At the same time, she thrilled at the thought, wondering how it might feel. She watched him, mesmerized, thinking that she should run, but could not as he sat slowly on the bed.
“Come here now. Lay over my knee.” She did as she was told, completely hypnotized now. Her breasts slid over his knees, then hung down. Her arms rested on him, holding her up.
He reached down now, lifted the gown, laying it over her back. Now, the crop rested on her buttocks, cool against the skin. He rubbed it back and forth across her soft thighs, the ribbing tickling slightly. His hand caressed her buttocks, sliding over the warmth.
Suddenly, without warning, he snapped the crop against her. A sting. She jumped. Again the crop struck her in the same spot. He rubbed his hand over it. It felt cool in comparison.
Another snap. Harder this time. “Ouch!”
“Quietly, love. I’ll be gentle with you. But it’s time to learn.”
SNAP again. This time lower, right at the juncture of her buttocks and thighs. Suddenly, she felt the wetness, exposed, beginning to thrill her through the pain.
Snap. His fingers slid between her thighs. Snap. She could feel the welts now. Snap. Then fingers, pushing into her, sliding inside. Snap. Snap. The pain was intense. It hurt. But she felt a warmth beginning to rise from under her. Her nipples felt hard, tight. Snap. She could feel her buttocks, red, welts rising under each hard crack of the crop.
Tears formed, partly from the pain, partly from the desire. She wanted to grab him. Hold him. Snap. With each contact, her desire grew. She gripped his legs, bit her lip hard. Snap. She felt his own hardness pressing into her belly, needed it.
Another SNAP. Hard, firm. She felt desperate. He reached down now, something metallic in his fingers. He slid it down her side, then clipped it onto a nipple. Pain! But suddenly, such an incredible feeling. SNAP. A clamp on the other side.
His fingers found her pussy now, slid over her clit, massaging, rubbing, hard, pushing, insistent. The feelings grew. The fire in her expanded, taking her, rushing through her. She could feel it grow, suddenly found herself waiting, anticipating the next whoosh of the crop, hoping for it, craving it. Her body rose to accept it as she came, a torrent. She screamed.
His hands ran through her hair now as he tugged, yanked at her. Suddenly, somehow, the release. The animal. She could not help herself, tore at his clothes, desperate to feel him, take him into her mouth, accept him inside her.
He gripped her, stood her back, squeezing hard on her arms. The clamps held tightly now, sending pain, heat down through her.
Suddenly, he turned her, pushed her down against the bed. Her nipples pressed into the mattress and she could feel him kneeling behind her. He pulled her buttocks apart as she felt his hot breath against her. His tongue slid down, wetting her, finding her pucker, lubricating it. She knew what was coming, had never felt it, could not decline it now. Anywhere, in any way. She had to have him inside her.
His breathing grew heavy, faster. He rose now, his cock pressed hard against her. His fingers slid inside her, making her loose, pushing inside. She struggled, fought, knowing that he would take her. Knowing that it would hurt. Knowing that she must have him.
Suddenly, he was there, at the entrance. Her eyes widened. He pushed. Paused. Rammed his cock deep inside her, violating her. Oh, God, what a feeling. So deep, so very deep inside, pressing at her anus, his hips sliding against the warm welts that he’d raised. She leaned back, arms over her head, sliding down his back, scraping at him with her nails.
He reached down, sliding over her belly, down to her crotch, pressing, rubbing. A finger slid inside her dripping pussy. Another. Sawing, pulling, pressing at her clit, raising her to even another level. Again, she felt it building. He squeezed, feeling the muscles contract.
He began to slide in and out of her, roughly, hard, ramming deep inside, as deep as she could imagine. She almost felt his cock break through, filling her so completely. A moan. It began, rising slowly from deep inside.
Suddenly, just at the very peak, just as she was about to lose all control, he pulled his hands from her wet pussy, gripped the clamps and yanked. The sensation, the heat, the hot clips sliding over her nipples sent her into oblivion, all thought of control lost now as wave after wave took her.
Another scream. And then silence as she collapsed onto the bed.
Slowly, he withdrew. Stood.
“Perhaps you’ll be more interested in coming home and a little less taken with work in the future, love.”
He dressed, walked slowly out of the bedroom to finish his wine. She lay there for a moment, then slowly crawled into bed. “We’ll see about that, I think.” And drifted off to sleep.