Finding Mr. Wright Ch. 09

I didn't look up at him, and could only manage a pitiful, "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Well, we will have to see what to do about this disobedience," he said. He wasn't mean in the way he said it, and he didn't appear to be mad. Instead, it was just, well, authoritative. I didn't know what type of reprimand I might have coming.

"Take off your dress." I quickly complied, tossing it to one of the chairs. I stood there naked before him again, more concerned that I had questioned him, that I disobeyed him, than I was at a neighbor possibly looking through a window and seeing me. However, it came to me that I had never felt so vulnerable before, nude and compliant like this. I quickly realized it was a feeling I liked very much.

"Turn around," he commanded. There was no tone of anger in his voice, only one of command. I did as he told me. He guided me to the couch, and I could feel its edge against my legs. "Kneel on the couch," he ordered, and I leaned forward, grasping the back of the couch with my hands, holding it, and stepping off the floor to kneel on the edge. As I did so, I heard him go to the windows and close the blinds and pull the curtains closed. He returned to stand behind me.

"Bend all the way forward, put your head down against your arms on the back of the couch." I wasn't exactly sure what he meant, but I realized what he wanted as I slowly bent forward, letting my chest drop and my head settle down into my arms. My bottom was pushing out, sticking out in the air, and I became keenly aware of the vulnerability of my position as I bent forward.

I felt his hand then, touching me, touching my bottom, rubbing his hand around and over the smooth, soft skin of each cheek. My mind quickly manifested the memory of what Brooke had done, and wondered if that is what Aaron had in store for me. I stayed in that position, unmoving, listening for what he might be doing behind me, preparing myself for what might happen next.

I heard Aaron taking off his clothing. What was he going to do? Was it going to be sex? Was he just going to take me, just like that, no warning, no foreplay, nothing? I heard the clinking of his belt buckle, and that same pang of nervous fear came over me.

"Elizabeth," he began, "this is new to you, but I must know that you will listen when I give you a command. You also must know that when you do not listen, that when you disobey me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Sir," I said quickly, earnestly. I felt so bad that I had let my insecurities creep into me, that I had not trusted him. I was thinking of saying more when I felt the first sting of his belt across my backside, ringing out with a distinctive smack.

I cried out, yelped, as the sting and pain crossed into my bottom. My body tensed as I winced, recoiling from the strike. This was not the slow buildup of 'pleasure through pain' that Brooke had given me. This was pain, pure and simple. It wasn't designed to do anything other than punish and teach a lesson. The safe word we discussed immediately came to mind, but I brushed it aside. I was not going to stop this. This was my fault. I had not trusted him, I had let him down. I deserved this, and well, in a way, I even *wanted* this.

The second strike came quickly, before I finished that thought. It was as hard as the first, and I cried out again, another short squeal that I tried to stifle, but simply couldn't. I was breathing faster now, the pain and heat from the sting radiating through the soft flesh on my bottom. I wondered how many more of these he had in mind for me. I wondered how many more I could take.

As if he read my mind, Aaron let me know. "Only three total this time, Elizabeth. I will let you off easily as I realize we are just beginning. But remember these three, as there will be many more if you disobey me again."

He immediately followed with the third strike. Same intensity, same force, but with the other two already stinging, this one felt worse. Another cry and gasp on my part, and I tensed my body, trying to push past the pain. I know he didn't hit me full force, that was not his intent. This was just hard enough to hurt, to make me remember. I could tell he had no desire to do me any harm. This was a punishment, pure and simple, but I was glad that last strike was the last one.

"I am so sorry, Sir. I won't let it happen again," I said, words coming through my staggered breathing, as I tried to recover. "I will never doubt you again." I was absolutely sincere in that statement, and I hoped he could tell how resolved I was to be obedient, to never let him down again.

I felt his hands then, running over my cheeks, my butt, touching and massaging the skin where he had struck me with the belt. He was soothing me now, helping to make the pain go away. His touch was soft, sensual, and not unwelcome at all. He quickly made me forget about the punishment, and my mind returned to thoughts about what we would do next.

"Lay on your back," he said, so I first turned and sat on the couch. The feeling of the fabric against my bottom making the sting return, if only for a moment. I lowered my back to the couch and extended my legs, laying back on the couch as he instructed.

He reached for me and took first one hand, then the next, and pulled them together, both over my head. I heard his bag rustle, then felt a soft, silken binding wrap around my wrists, tying them together. He pulled my wrists over my head, to the edge of the armrest of the couch. He moved, standing up, before he pulled my bound hands tight against the armrest, now held there firmly in place by another binding. I couldn't move my hands or arms more than a few inches from where he positioned them.

From there, he returned to the couch, near my legs. I felt his hand on my thigh, lightly letting the soft material of another binding drape down and touch me, running its way up one leg, over my abdomen, then down the other leg, painfully close to my sensitive region, but not touching anything between my legs. He grasped my right ankle, the one closest to the back of the couch, and tied a binding around it. He moved my foot upward towards my body, causing my leg to bend at the knee, pushing it almost all the way up so my calf was touching my thigh, then wrapping the binding around my thigh as well, holding my whole leg in place, bent in upon itself like that. I felt the binding tighten, not against me, but against something in the couch, the back support maybe? I couldn't see as my head was flat against the couch. The binding held my leg fully bent upon itself and just as immobile as my hands above my head.

He then turned to my other leg and grasped my ankle, affixing another soft binding. He moved this leg differently, spreading my thighs, causing my legs to open and spread apart. He moved my foot to the floor, pulled my ankle against the couch, and tied my ankle to one of the couch legs. I could still move my knee in and out a little, and thereby move my left knee and thigh, but I definitely couldn't close my legs. On top of that, my ankles were fixed in place, now as immobile as my arms and hands.

He stood, looking at me like that, I'm sure, though I couldn't be certain. I imagined how I might look, my hands over my head, my breasts on display, my nipples hardening, chest moving slowly in and out with each breath, my legs spread open, tied against the sofa, one leg bent and up against the back of the sofa, one off the edge and on the floor and all of me practically immobile. Most importantly, as my legs were open, my private region was also open, available for the taking. What was he going to do?? My thoughts were wild with the possibilities. It was very similar to my fantasy, the one I expressed to him early on.

I felt him sit down on the couch, down below where my legs were. His hands began touching my legs, at first surprising me at the unexpected touch. If I picked my head up, straining my neck, I could have seen what he was doing, but I didn't want to move that way and have him correct me. He then ran his hands over my thighs, down my calves, as far as he could in this position, and then up my thighs again. His hand passed so very close to my nether region, and I yearned to be touched there, but he denied it to me. Instead, he leaned forward and moved his hands further up my body, up my abdomen and stomach, over my ribs and up my chest, covering my breasts with his hands. He began moving them over and around each breast, avoiding my nipples, which were poking out, hardening even more, needing to be touched so very badly.

I felt his weight over me as he changed position, his head bending down, his warm breath on my cheek. As he moved, parts of his naked body touched mine. If felt his semi-erect shaft brush against my leg. I instantly wanted to reach down, touch it, hold it in my hand and get him hard, get him ready for me, but I couldn't move. That immobility struck me in that moment like a hammer. I was his to do whatever with, whatever and however he desired. That feeling of complete helplessness and vulnerability was so incredible and erotic, it was almost intoxicating.

He spoke, his face lower, almost against my cheek, near my lips. "Elizabeth ..." he let my name linger on his breath. "Do you want to be touched?"

"Yes," I said quickly, almost before he finished speaking. "Yes, Sir," I added, almost forgetting to do so.

"Where?" he asked.

"Anywhere, Sir," I said eagerly. "Everywhere. Please, anywhere and everywhere you want, just please... don't stop." The desire was building in me strongly, and he knew just how to bring it out. The pain I had felt on my bottom only a few minutes before was now but a distant memory compared to the sensations that were going through me now.

His hands continued to roam all over me, but now, he wasn't avoiding any areas. He ran his fingers over my breasts, his palms moving over my nipples and his fingers dragging past the sides of each. I gasped involuntarily as he did so, and his hands returned, moving up and around, and over, tantalizing and teasing each breast and each nipple in turn. He moved his body to the side of me, almost lying next to me on the couch, resting his head on his right arm, as his left hand continued to move from one breast to the other.

Normally, my chest and nipples are sensitive and that causes arousal when touched, but this really only happens when I stimulate them myself, as they have to be touched in a certain, softer way. No one has ever known how to touch me on my chest just right, as most men just grasp and grope for their pleasure, not mine. Aaron was different. He knew just how and where to touch, and I could feel the resulting arousal building, all the way down between my legs.

He moved his leg over mine, pushing his cock into the side of my hip (using the word, even in my mind, was coming easier for me, so long as I didn't have to say it out loud). He wasn't hard, not like he was when I was touching him, but I could feel him starting to become aroused again down there. Then, he lifted his hand and drew a finger across my nipple before placing his hand completely over it, and pinched. Not hard, and not too abruptly, but enough to make me clench my teeth and gasp with a quick intake of breath, feeling my hard nipple contract and soften between his fingers as he squeezed. The feeling wasn't a painful one as much as it was a response to the incredible sensitivity, being both a mixture of pain and pleasure. I wanted more.

He moved his hand off of my breast then, leaving my nipple to stiffen again, shifting his weight again and leaning over me, his left hand going down towards my abdomen. This time, though, he didn't stop or avoid anything. His hand moved down, past my stomach, past my belly button, lower, grazing across my light pubic hair and down, between my legs, touching me right in my most private of places. I was already engorged, the mound of flesh between my legs softening and expanding with my arousal. As his finger moved to my labia, he parted them, opening them to the dampness that was inside, ready to burst.

"My, Elizabeth," he said, "you certainly are wet. I can see you are enjoying this."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I didn't know how. I was transfixed. I just focused on his touch, what he was doing. I felt his fingers moving, touching me, opening me, moving deeper. I struggled against the bonds, not trying to escape or get away, but trying to open my legs wider, giving him more access. He sensed this and moved a finger inside me, pushing deeper, penetrating me. I shuddered at the feeling, needing this for so long. I wanted more. I wanted him completely. I wanted him inside me.

He moved his hand and another finger pushed into me, opening me up more. He began to move them in and out, around my labia, over and back into my opening. As those two fingers worked around, all I could do was lay there, immobile, as he touched and teased me with his fingers. I wanted to move, to control my body and move it with him, to touch him as well, to guide his hand with mine, to grasp him and get him hard, to hold his back as I spread my legs and welcomed him into me, but all of that was taken away and I was simply rooted to the spot, completely at his mercy.

He could tell I was struggling against my bonds, wanting to do more and join him, yet he did nothing to loosen them. Instead, he moved his other hand to my face, brushing the back of his fingers against the side of my face, my cheek, moving a finger to my lips, touching every so slightly, and all I could do was just lay there and let him.

"Relax, Elizabeth, let it flow over and through you. Focus on my hands and fingers. Let them bring you the release you desire, the release you crave."

I nodded, not wanting my voice to break the tension that was building. I closed my eyes and focused on his hands, his fingers, as he touched me. As he pushed two fingers deep into me, I felt his thumb at the edge of my opening, moving around and getting it moist with my excitement. His thumb moved up then, right between my labia, now wet with my own moisture, rubbing against my incredibly sensitive spot, the nub that was straining to come out from under its hood.

My body shuddered. I shuddered. I tensed, and for the first time, I began to feel a climax building deep within me. For me, an orgasm was always something I had to do myself. I had only experienced a scant few climaxes with a lover or my husband. I always had to take care of that part myself, usually after my partner left or went to sleep, having to fake it with them so I didn't "insult their manliness." But here, now, I felt it coming on. Aaron sensed it too, and he began to work to coax it out of me.

"That's it, Elizabeth," he said, "do it. Let it go. I want you to cum for me."

When he said that, using that language, those terms, my arousal increased to a new level. What I was feeling before was the slow building of an orgasm, but still hidden away, elusive. Now, it jumped out into the open, ready, building in intensity, but not yet at that point. What I was feeling now wasn't a feeling of hope that I might climax; it was a feeling that it was going to happen, I was just unsure when.

Try as I might, I wanted to guide Aaron, help him get me there, but again, I was bound tight. I wanted to tell him something, what to do, how to touch me, but I couldn't find the words. I focused, grinding my hips against his hand as best I could, trying to urge the orgasm to completion, but as I struggled, I felt it start to recede, like I was trying too hard, forcing it.

I gasped in frustration, and Aaron, as always, sensed what was happening. He moved to change what he was doing. His thumb pressed against my nub, not hurting it, but pushing and massaging harder, sending shivers and tingles throughout my body. He plunged his fingers into and out of me, masturbating me, encouraging my body to achieve the climax I so desperately needed.

He leaned over me, his mouth almost on mine, but he didn't kiss me. I yearned to do that, to feel his mouth on mine, to press my lips against his, but he denied me even that. Instead, he encouraged again, telling me, "Elizabeth ... come on honey, do it, cum for me."

As he said it this time, as his words coursed through me, raising me to that oh-so-near level again, he did something else. Though his left hand continued to touch me down below, continued to masturbate me, his right hand grabbed my nipple and pinched .... hard. He crushed my nipple between his thumb and finger, the rest of his hand squeezing the outer part of my breast. As he did, he twisted my nipple slightly, sending a shockwave of sensation through me.

That was all I needed, as that sensation of both intense pleasure and slight pain sent me over the top. The orgasm that came coursing over me was intense. I'm not sure whether it was the predicament I was in, bound as I was, the new sensation of pleasure and pain, or the fact that I was denied this for so long, the pleasure being given to me by someone else, something that I didn't have to do on my own. As the orgasm washed over me, I felt it deep into every fiber of my being. From the tips of my toes and fingers all the way down into my core, through my breasts and nipples, down into my abdomen and into my clitoris, it tore through me with such overwhelming force that my whole body shook.

I let out a noise then, not a yell or a squeal, but a breathtaking moan of pure pleasure and release. As I did so, Aaron's lips descended on mine, his tongue searching out mine, even as mine did his, our lips and mouths meeting and enveloping each other. We were locked like that for what felt like an eternity as the orgasm continued, slowly fading and yet building slightly again before fading more. When it fully subsided, my body collapsed into the bonds, into the sofa, fully spent and exhausted. And yet, I still felt our mouths touching, our tongues entwined in a deep, passionate, resounding kiss, continuing and continuing until we were both completely spent. I could barely remember what happened after that. At some point, Aaron broke the kiss. I'm not sure we were even still kissing at that point, though our lips and mouths were locked together. His fingers moved out of me, and though I wanted them still inside, he moved them away. He released my breast and nipple, letting my chest fall, my breathing set in, returning me to some semblance of normalcy.

He lifted off of me, standing, and began untying my ankles, releasing my legs. I felt the blood and sensation return to them, though they didn't hurt, and I relaxed them, letting them move as the blood began flowing fully again. Neither of us spoke. He raised my legs and placed them together on the couch, side by side now. He went to the side of the couch and untied my wrists, releasing my arms and letting them fall by my side.

As I watched what he did, slowly freeing me from my bonds, I looked at him as he gathered the black silk bindings ... and put them away in his satchel. I sat up and just watched as he moved, naked, putting everything away. He came and sat next to me and put his arm around me, holding me next to him.

"Elizabeth, that was beautiful. I've never felt a woman orgasm that hard just through touch like that. You truly are amazing."

I smiled, slowly regaining my senses. "Thank you, Sir," I said, giving him a soft smile. I was exhausted and spent, but my wits were slowly returning.

"Well," he said, letting it hang there a bit, "I hate to have to leave, but I must be going. I hate to just leave after what we just went through, but I have someone I have to get back to."

His fiancé, no doubt, I thought. That was a sobering thought. How could he think of her and want to get back to her after what we just did? What we shared? Didn't what we did mean more to him? Why did he feel the need to run off to her so fast?