Falling in Love Again

He cut away the blouse, throwing the tattered pieces aside, then sliced the skirt (he could have just slipped it off, but ... well ... might as well maintain the illusion. He threw it aside, and shoved her forward, pushing her to her knees, upper body resting on the bed.

Again, he grabbed between her thighs, pushing his finger inside her and bending forwards to whisper. "You're so fucking wet. I know you love it. Imagine if there were people watching. Looking at your arse and your wet pussy. You love it."

And she did. His dominance was massively exciting, and the idea that he had put into her head of an audience sharing the moment was making her pussy tingle. He whispered again.

"Of course, there's the people watching on webcam, but next time, maybe I'll invite a few guests."

Had he turned on a webcam? Seriously? Were they, right now, broadcasting this to maybe hundreds of avid watchers - couples looking on jealously, men wanking on their own, groups of teenagers giggling and staring? He wouldn't ... would he?

In fact, he had done no such thing. He had considered it, but decided he should really check with her first - and anyway, he did not know of any public sites where broadcasting this sort of thing was acceptable. Next time, he would ask her. She would probably know. Still, letting her believe it would be fun, and the moans and breathing suggested she did not have any objections.

He looked between her legs. Her knickers were pushed between her swollen, pouting lips, soaked in her juices. Even if she claimed not to enjoy it, her body was betraying her. She was massively turned on.

The scissors cut the shoulder straps of her bra, then snipped by the fastening, allowing her breasts to fall free, pinning the garment to the bed with their weight. Finally, two deft cuts allowed her knickers to fall - although they were held in place initially by her labia, until he pulled, sharply, leaving her naked.

She knelt beside the bed, hands bound behind her back, buttocks proudly pushed into the air. What next?

There was a resounding slap, and warmth and pain made her gasp, as her rounded cheek flared red, a clear handprint showing. She moaned. This was good. When had he learned to do this?

Slap. The other buttock. Slap, slap. His spanks were measured, and he was not using as much force as he could. He was not sure whether he would enjoy this or not, but, in fact, found the glowing red orbs appealing. He could tell she liked it from her rapid breathing, sighs and glistening cunt.

"They like it," he told her, "all those people watching. They want me to spank you harder. Do you want me to?"

"Yes," she breathed, "harder."

He shrugged, despite the fact no-one could see him. "OK."

But first, another addition. She felt his finger between her buttocks, probing towards her anus. She pushed back, keen for him to find it, and felt the slimy finger wriggle around her hole. Lube. What was he doing?

A brief pause, then something solid penetrating her, sliding into her arse, helped by slippery gel. A butt plug.

He stopped, leaving the object in place. "There. A nice jewel for them to enjoy. Make your arse look prettier." He smiled. It was fun letting her think a huge number of strangers were watching - and even more fun knowing that she didn't care.

Thwack. "Mmm ... Ohhh ..." She loved it. This time it was a paddle, and it was harder. She felt the pain and tingling which she enjoyed - somehow much better from someone who cared about her, rather than a random person seeking their own perverse pleasure.

He paddled her several more times, then took her arm. "Stand up. Everyone's seen your arse and how pretty it looks, all red and glowing. Now turn round. Show them your tits and your bald pussy."

She did as he said, feeling her juices on her thighs. He pinched her nipple, already hard and erect, making her wince with pleasure-pain. Then the other nipple.

"Lie on the bed." He guided her to the centre of the bed, and made her sit up. Her legs were pulled apart, and she felt straps around them, keeping them spread. He unfastened the handcuffs and pushed her back, gently, spreading her arms and placing straps around her wrists.

Still blindfold, she lay on her back, spreadeagled and restrained. As she listened, she heard him, and recognised the sounds of undressing - fabric whooshing over skin, the sharp rasp of a zip, trousers falling gently to the floor. She knew he must be naked too.

He looked down at her, loving her body, and desperate to fuck her hard and empty his balls. Not yet though. First he wanted to play.

"They want to see your pussy. I'm going to show them."

He reached across, touching her puffy, deep pink labia, running his fingers over them before pushing them apart. She knew that her clit must be on show, and as she felt his fingers tease it, rubbing and stroking, she began to sigh. He moved down, opening her inner lips, her vagina spread wide as he inserted a finger, working it around, bending it up to another sensitive area.

For a short time, he pumped a finger in and out, then added another, and another. She wondered if he was going to try to put his whole hand in. She had never tried fisting, and was nervous - still - it might work. Regardless, she was relieved when he stopped at three fingers, pumping in and out, making her gasp and sigh, so close to her climax.

Then he stopped. She almost protested, but wanted to remain submissive. For a moment, he left her. Then his hands were on her breasts, pulling her nipples - and ... yes ... she felt cold metal either side, becoming tighter, painful ... painful ... just right. "Oh, yes," she breathed.

He put the nipple clamp on the other breast, and moved away again.

He thought. What next. Coming to a decision, he grabbed a dildo - eight inches long, curved slightly upwards and thick - looking like a real penis - rather like his, but brown.

He knelt beside her and pointed his erection towards her face, rubbing the head over her lips. He loved how her lips parted and her tongue flicked out as he rubbed himself around her cheeks and chin. A dribble of precum ran across upper lip, and he wiped it across her tongue. Finally, he leaned forward and allowed her to take him in her mouth.

As her tongue swirled his engorged glans, he leaned down, placing the dildo between her pussy lips, finding her entrance and pushing it deep inside. It entered with ease, and he began to thrust it steadily in and out. He found watching it almost hypnotic, how her lips changed shape as they hugged the brown latex, and her moans - well - mews now that her mouth was full - increased in speed in time to the quickening thrusts.

He manoeuvred himself around, so that he could lower his head to lick the solid nub of her clitoris, now fully swollen and exposed. Her hips bucked against him and he heard a long, keening mewl from her cock-filled mouth. Suddenly, her hips went rigid, her buttocks clenched and her body lifted, just shoulders and heels left on the bed. There was a gush of liquid onto his face and mouth, and any friction that the dildo had felt disappeared, allowing it to slide freely as he continued to thrust.

He licked avidly, revelling in her taste, and relieved she could apply the same oral skills as she had previously, due to the restraints which ran under the mattress and round to her wrists and ankles.

He continued licking and thrusting, forcing her pleasure to be extended to the point of excess, before finally withdrawing. He knelt beside her, his penis swollen to the point that he felt it might explode if not allowed release soon.

He stared at her, soaked sheets beneath her, thighs running with her fluids, as if he had poured a glass of water between them. Her face and upper body were flushed red - probably matching her bum, he thought - and a sheen of sweat coated her.

"They loved that," he said, "I think the comments must have got new viewers. I'm pointing the camera directly at your cunt now, so they can see it winking at them." He leaned across and pulled her labia wider, so he could enjoy watching her inner parts himself.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he covered her lips with a finger, determined to maintain his dominant persona until they finished.

He unbound her ankles, pushing her feet up to her buttocks and her thighs wide. Briefly, he looked down on her, then he positioned himself on top and slipped his cock into her in one swift, fluid motion. There was no resistance. She was so wet, he was certain he could thrust his fist in now, as he had contemplated earlier. He didn't really want to though. He knew her pussy would return to normal after its pounding, but he would rather not push his luck.

She lay beneath him, trying to push back, but she was exhausted, spent from the intensity of her orgasm. One last 'new' thing, he decided - especially as there was very little friction on his cock, and he thought it would take a lot of effort to make him cum.

He reached up quickly and unfastened the nipple clamps - her usual cylindrical points were flattened, looking red and sore - then he released her wrists. Briskly, he rolled her over, on to her knees, head down.

Her arse was still red, the colour now diffuse, covering each buttock entirely. He hoped there would be no bruises - that had never been his intent - although she had asked him to spank harder and he had obliged. He focused on the jewel between her scarlet cheeks, catching the light as he raised it up. He had almost forgotten the butt plug, in fact, and now he removed it quickly.

He stared at the enlarged hole briefly - would his eight-inch, broad member actually fit? He presumed so. He pushed the head against the passage and worked forward. This was tight - especially after her slippery cunt. She moaned, partly in pleasure, partly in surprise and pushed back onto him, encouraging him to go further. He did, eventually introducing his entire length.

He grabbed her hair, pulling back sharply, making her gasp. It was not hard enough to pull any out, but enough to draw her head back and cause pain - something else she said she enjoyed.

He began to thrust, but knew it would be all over if he kept going for any length of time - and he did not plan on cumming in her arse. As he felt the sensation rise, he withdrew.

Lying flat on his back, he ordered her: "Finish me with your hands, then lick it off."

It was quick - quicker than a student's first handjob - his first spurt was jet-propelled, hitting her face, dripping back on to his stomach as she continued to pump. He came copiously, on his stomach, the lower part of his chest and then in dribbles, rolling on to his groin.

She began to lick, starting at his chest, working down. She was still blindfolded, so he guided her, and watched as she cleaned him, often smearing shining streaks across her face. When he was satisfied, he pushed his still semi-hard cock into her mouth for her to draw out any final drops and remove remnants of the cooling gel.

"They liked that," he told her, "they keep saying you're a slut and my bitch. I've told them you're not - that you've enjoyed it as much as I have. Am I right?"

"Fuck, yes," she gasped, "it was amazing. I love all those things. If I didn't, I'd say so."

"Good. I banned those who used those words about you. They didn't understand. Do you want to see what they said?"

She nodded, and he unfastened the damp blindfold. For a few seconds, she blinked, as her eyes adjusted to the bright light of the room, before finally being able to focus on his face.

"Where is it?" She asked, looking around for the laptop.

"Where's what?" He smiled.

Realisation slowly dawned on her face. "You total bastard," she giggled, cuffing him gently with her hand, "there was no-one watching - and all the time I thought you were sharing me with ... well ... hundreds of people, wanking away over me."

He laughed. "Would you have minded?"

She considered. "If it's what you want, then no. It'd be fine - though I prefer to be asked first."

"OK. I think it'd be fun - maybe next time - but can we do it together? Reply to comments, that sort of thing, make it more ... interactive."

He loved the idea - not just of people looking at her, but seeing him as well. He knew most would be men, jerking off as they saw her naked and watched the two of them, but that was OK. It would fit with some of his other ideas - even be a gentle build up to them.

They lay together, talking about the experience of bondage, pain, sub/dom and anal - firsts for him, if not for her - definitely the first time they had shared the experiences. Both had found it invigorating, and she had explained how successful he had been at it, considering it was new to him. Both had loved it and wanted to repeat it - not immediately, and not every time they fucked - but regularly.

It was time, he decided, to involve her in more of his thoughts.

"I want us to have a threesome. With a woman. I'm assuming you know someone who'd be up for it."

She was momentarily thrown. The truth was that her more recent interactions with women had been set up by someone else - whoever was organising the group to take photographs of them - and anyway, these were not women she found especially attractive.

"Well - I don't know," she demurred, not really wanting to explain fully, "it might be better to look for someone we both like."

He had decided that if she seemed unsure, it might be better not to ask too many questions - and anyway, the photos he had seen did not involve women he found particularly to his taste. One of them had been very skinny, with a short hairstyle, shaved to one side and a horrendous tattoo covering her back. He could only assume she had never actually seen it. Definitely not his taste.

"OK," he decided, "let's look for someone new. How about we set up a profile on that site you've used? We can look for a woman there, and use the webcam. I've looked at a few cam sites, and they're OK, but everyone there's about eighteen to twenty-one with perfect figures.

"Now, I know we're not too bad, but we're older and hardly have gym-toned bodies and porn star looks. I don't want to do it, find no-one watches and everyone's judging us."

She agreed. She attended fitness classes each week - 'dancercise' - but she knew her body was not media-perfect. She was not keen on returning to the site where people she knew previously would almost certainly find her, and might reveal more than was comfortable, but she could think of no alternative.

"We can set up a profile," he continued, "block single men from messaging us and see what happens."

She had forgotten that he had lurked there and knew how it worked - she wondered what interactions he had had with some of her contacts there (she used to think of them as 'friends', but now knew they were no such things - just people wanting to exploit someone whose confidence was low and who was desperate for affirmation - it almost amounted to trafficking).

They agreed to set up the profile the following evening - meanwhile, she thought. If he was serious about this - and every indication was that he was - she knew one person. A woman whose marriage had broken up when her husband, who had been on the site with her, had gone too far, beginning a full relationship with someone there behind her back.

This woman had left the site, recognising it for what it was (basically an online brothel, where the genuine people were so often overcome by predatory men). When Chris had first discovered her there, she and this woman had often communicated, sharing the negative experiences (and the positive ones) as they worked through their issues.

They had had sex before - several times - mostly for the pleasure of her husband - might she be interested in something caring and fun? Precisely what the site was supposed to be about, before it was swamped with men pretending to be women, men pretending to be couples and men seeking to exploit. A pity none of the site owners could be bothered to do anything about it. It could have been so good.

"Let's look for a different site," she blurted. "There's several swinger sites, probably better than that one. I ... I ... it's got bad memories for me." She suddenly felt ashamed at how she had simply allowed people there to take her over, to push her into situations she really was not comfortable in - and how they simply didn't care.

The plan was in place, and both slipped into pyjamas before going downstairs for coffee. It was to become a familiar format: sex, discuss sex, next steps, then back to normality.

They watched TV for a while, before going back to bed. As she stripped, he looked at her buttocks. They were still red, but fading. He was pleased. At least there was no sign of bruising.

In bed, it was clear that both were still horny. This time, however, there love-making was tender, more like the old days - touching, fingering, stroking and long, gentle fucking. It satisfied both, and there was relief that extremes were not essential to satisfaction.

Like many couples with a 'creative' sex life, Kay and Chris spent most of their time being extremely mundane. Kay worked as an administrator at a local school, while Chris trundled off to his job as a management trainer. It was quite odd for both of them when they experienced flashbacks to their evening of passion during quiet times.

Kay had just finished inputting the latest attendance figures, and had cleared her in-tray, when her mind drifted to the previous evening. She thought of herself, cuffed, bending over the bed, the paddle slapping her cheeks (which still tingled a little as she sat). She thought how turned on she had been when she thought she was being watched by hundreds of people.

She blushed, remembering where she was, thinking what her colleagues would think if they had seen her licking up cum or having her anus penetrated. She knew her cotton panties were getting moist. She jumped up and dashed to the toilet cubicle, knowing that she needed to masturbate.

Chris, meanwhile, sat at his desk, planning his next course. He remembered his wife's distended nipples, how she had cried out in ecstasy as she came and how tight her back passage was. He was semi-hard, and knew that if he had to stand, his tumescence would be very evident. He dared not masturbate - he wanted to save himself for later.

Kay slipped her skirt down, and off, then removed her knickers. She paused, then unbuttoned her blouse and slipped off her bra.

She could have just lifted her skirt, but being naked made her feel more wanton - dirtier. She knew someone could walk in, and be a matter of feet from her - might even have a conversation with her as she rubbed her clit and slid her fingers inside her. She hoped they did. It would be so sexy.

A thought struck her. Should she? Why not?

Chris sat, considering his wife's body, when his phone 'pinged'. A text from Kay. The first line read: 'This is your fault'. Shit. What had he done now? He opened the message with trepidation.

There was his wife. Naked. Playing with her tits - then fingering her cunt - licking her fingers.

His jaw dropped. She was sending naked selfies from work. He had no choice now. His cock was rock hard. He slid a hand into his trousers, and tried to tuck it somewhere where it would not be noticed, if he had to stand. He gazed at the pictures and sent a quick reply. 'Fucking hell. I've got a hard on. Love you so much. Wait till we get home.'

He flicked through the images, spending time to look at each one - then - KNOCK, KNOCK. The door burst open.

"Hi. I'm Melody. I've been sent to you so you can train me. You're my mentor." A young, attractive blonde stood before him, her skirt mid-thigh, showing long, shapely legs, hugging her hips, which curved sensuously from a narrow waist. Her white blouse was buttoned at the front, but should have had one more button fastened to make it decent. As it was, some cleavage was on show - an impressive cleavage - and her dark bra was outlined beneath the slightly translucent fabric.