Hard Reset

It's been an excruciatingly long week. Every single work battle was uphill, and I hadn't had a win all week. I could feel frustration and tension in my belly, a constant course through my bloodstream. The barking of the dog is grating, the thought of cooking dinner completely overwhelming. I have been for a run, had a bubble bath, listened to music- nothing is helping.

I am desperately in need of a hard reset, and there is only one way to get it- I text him.

The room is black through my blindfold. I find myself laying on my bed completely naked, my nipples hard from the air conditioning and the nerves. My legs are spread, arms at my sides. I can hear my heartbeat, making an effort to slow my breathing as the butterflies threaten to take over.

I lay like this for a while, time beginning to slip away as the anticipation consumes me. I feel him before I hear him, the energy of the room shifting as he enters. I am not permitted to speak until spoken to, so I fight the urge to politely greet him or flat out beg him to touch me. I feel his eyes on me as he circles the bed, taking a seat in the chair at my feet. I hear him lean back, taking in the view- saying nothing. I am completely exposed; I ball my hands into fists and then release them, trying to channel the tension before I combust. Christ, he hasn't even touched me yet and I am already soaking wet.

I first feel his touch on my left foot- an electric shock right through my body, reverberating between my legs. I let in a sharp breath, still not making a sound as I try to relax my body. He grabs my ankle and secures it with a soft cuff, which is secured to the bed. My leg is stretched, and restricted. He then moves to my right ankle, repeating the process. He takes his time, no doubt enjoying the intensity of the tension he is creating. He takes my right hand, stretching and securing it above my head, trailing his fingers softly down the inside of my arm. He stops before he reaches my breast, not yet willing to give me the stimulation I crave. That subtle tease earns him a moan, my body completely covered in goosebumps. He finally cuffs my left wrist, leaving me to squirm against the restraints, testing their narrow limits. If I thought I was exposed before, I am now utterly helpless.

I can smell his soap and feel the heat from his body as he leans over me, moving his lips to my ear. "You are mine," he says simply, evaporating my whole week and all of its stresses. The deadlines, responsibilities, decisions...none of them matter in this moment- only him- his voice, his hands, his directions. He stands over me, allowing his hands to course over my body- neck, shoulders, arms, belly, legs- skillfully avoiding my most sensitive areas, yet leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches. "You are going to be a good girl and take everything I give you, without complaint or hesitation. I know exactly what you need."

"Yes Sir," I breathe, shivering at the combination of his touch and his voice. His hand moves up the inside of my thigh, teasing the soft skin. My body tenses, begging him to dip a finger into the wetness between my legs. Instead, I feel his strong hands squeeze the inside of my thigh, kneading the muscle. I moan again, this time in frustration. "Please, Sir..." I moan, squirming against the restraints in an effort to change the placement of his hand. "Patience, my dear," he taunts, "you'll get what you want when I decide it's time. You are not in control here."

His hand moves up my other thigh, repeating the kneading. It would feel soothing, were my body not on fire from the anticipation. His hand grazes me between the legs, so lightly that I think I migh've imagined it. He massages my smooth lips, moaning himself now. "Mmmm baby you're so wet," he marvels, his fingers spreading my lips wider. I feel my clit do a summersault as he blows on it, the pressure almost enough to send me over the edge. He holds me open- blowing, looking, plotting. The air becomes more concentrated on my clit, and I deduce that he has moved his face further between my legs; my body braces for the impact of his tongue. He licks me, just once- impossibly gently, his tongue wide and slow. The sensation is too much, and not nearly enough. "Does that feel good baby?" he asks, damn well knowing the answer. "Yes Sir, please...more," I ask, having a difficult time stringing words together with all of my attention between my legs. His tongue returns, circling my swollen clit with expert precision; bringing me right to the edge but always backing off before I get there. I am freely moaning, a garbled mixture of "Please," "Yes," and incoherent need. I finally pull myself together enough to say, "Please, Sir, may I cum?"

With a final hard flick of my clit with his tongue, he stops. He fucking stops. I asked permission, like I am supposed to, and he stops. I am dumbfounded as he gently removes my blindfold, my eyes blinking and squinting to adjust. "It isn't time yet, baby," he smirks, kissing me deeply to allow me to taste myself on his lips. I lean hard into the kiss, my restrained body hungry for stimulation. When he breaks away, I lick my salty sweet wetness off of my lips. I look up at him, my eyes full of question and need. "Sir, I need this. Please, I need the release. I need you to make me cum," I say, trying to stay calm amid my frayed nerves. "I know baby, and you will eventually, if you're good. You need to earn your orgasm first," he says gently, sweeping my hair out of my eyes. "Can you show me that you're a good girl?"

"Yes Sir, yes- anything," I breathe, knowing that I will say yes to anything he wants.

"Good," he replies, "don't cum until I tell you to...no matter what."

I see a glint in his eyes that tells me I am not going to like what comes next. He dips two fingers inside me, rubbing my juices on each nipple before he puts them in his mouth. I moan, arching my back to give him better access as his fingers press inside me again. The sensation in my nipples connects to his fingers inside me, and my previous need instantly resurfaces. I grind into his fingers, craving a harder touch. His fingers remain consistent, but his teeth bite into my nipple hard enough to illicit a scream. I was so focused between my legs that I had forgotten where his mouth was. He played with me like this for what felt like forever; his fingers bringing me to the edge, and his teeth pulling me back. I feel frustrated, betrayed, used...and exquisitely, expertly, satisfied.

The pace and intensity of his fingers suddenly changes; he kisses me, biting my lip and pulling it painfully, emitting a low growl as he does so. His fingers find my clit and start to rub quickly; I can hear the wetness in my pussy as he starts his assault. My clit is aching from the constant stimulation (and subsequent lack of release), and I can't decide if the pressure feels good or if it's painful. He locks eyes with me, his intensity paralyzing me. "Sir...Sir I'm going to cum!" I say frantically, knitting my brow in a silent plea for mercy. "Don't you dare cum," he threatens, his fingers and his gaze completely unrelenting. "You can do it baby, just hold on...you can't cum until I tell you...be a good girl."

"Please, Sir, it hurts...please...I need to cum Sir my pussy hurts!" I am all need and desperation, focusing every ounce of my being on not cumming. Spears of pain and pleasure are piercing through my clit, and my usual grounding techniques are not working. I can see the edge in sight but know that there will be harsh consequences for cumming without permission. I try one more desperate plea, tears welling up in my eyes as I try to hold on. He smirks at me, knowing that I am at the end of my ability. "Just a little bit longer baby, you can do it...that's it, good girl." I hold on to his praise, trying to ground myself in his eyes. He finally nods, and I barely hear him say "cum for me" before I explode.

My orgasm rips through me, releasing all of the tension and need that he built up in me as my pussy gushes around his fingers. My body convulses under his touch, as he slows the pace to a slow rub, demanding every single shiver he can from my body. He finally lets me come down, stroking my hair and praising me as my heart rate fights to slow down. "`Thank you Sir," I say dreamily, the relief palpable. "You're welcome baby," he says gently, "but you're not done yet. I am going to untie you, and you are going to get on your hands and knees. I am going to hurt you now," he says matter-of-factly, deftly releasing me from my restraints. I shakily get on all fours, my limbs still week from my orgasm. I hear him behind me, selecting his first implement.

My body is stuck between the release of an orgasm and the buildup of tension as I wrap my head around what is coming next. I work on trying to ground myself before he begins, knowing that it will please him if I can withstand the impacts. I want to impress him- I crave his approval and praise. I steel myself for the first blow, relaxing into the mattress as much as I can. The first blow doesn't come, though- instead I feel the soft leather of his crop gently stroking my ass. "Fifty per side," he says calmly, "and you will count all the way- to one hundred. If you lose count, we will start back at one. Do you understand?" The cool detachment in his voice tells me that he is not going to go easy on me- fear bubbles up in my stomach as the gentle strokes of the leather stop.

"Y...yes Sir," I say.

SLAP.

The first strike lands and captures my concentration. It isn't painful, but the noise and sensation cause me to flinch. "One," I say easily, preparing myself for the next one.

SLAP.

He hits me again, in the exact same place. I feel the sting more acutely this time but am still feeling resilient. "Two."

SLAP, SLAP, SLAP.

He finds a rhythm, each slap landing with more force than the last. I too am finding a rhythm, breathing in and out to absorb the blows, letting the pain channel through my body. I gasp when he hits hard, but never fail to count out loud. He reminds me a few times to be louder, my counts turning to a mumble as I react to the pain.

I make it to thirty before he pauses, changing implements. I hear the whip of a leather flogger behind me, bracing myself for a new sensation. The sound of the flogger is louder, sharper- the sensation matches. My ass feels warm, each new blow compounding to hurt my already tender skin. My counts become more delayed as I work harder to channel the pain. I begin to breathe deeply between strikes, getting my count out just before he winds up for the next one.

The flogger changes to a wooden paddle, the sharp bite replaced with a deep, dull, reverberating thud. Each blow represents real pain at this point, and I scream, the counts becoming more difficult. "Sir...please...no more.... I can't," I beg, a new kind of desperation sinking in. Where I had felt desperate to cum, I now feel a different sense of desperation, more linked to self-preservation than need. I work to quiet my instincts, continuing to stay still and open myself up to the pain. I breathe deeply, relaxing my body between thuds. At seventy-five he puts the paddle down, and I feel his hand rub my sore, damaged, ass. His light touch feels like needles on the red patches, but the gentleness relaxes me. I let my stance soften, and realized a heartbeat too late that I made a mistake- his hand leaves my ass, returning with a sharp, painful...

SLAP.

I yelp, the unexpected blow bringing tears to my eyes. "Sir no! No more!" I plead, the tears threatening to fall. "You are almost done, baby. Only twenty-four more to go...you can do it.... you're doing so well...just hold on a little longer." His praise between slaps gives me something to focus on- something to strive for- and I focus in on his voice as his hand continues to assault me. My ass is beyond stinging, a constant pain now rippling through me.

By the last ten slaps he is not holding back, hitting me with his entire strength. Tears are freely streaming down my face, my body fully resigned to his control. All I want to do is move away, but I can't- I have checked out of my body, my mind floating somewhere above, watching the continued assault from a detached place. I still feel the pain, but there is a break between impact and consciousness. I let myself exist in his control, knowing that he is giving me what I need. I take everything that he gives me, until I hear my voice choke out "one hundred" through the tears. I collapse at the count, freely weeping into the pillow below me as I feel his hands press firmly on my blazing hot ass.

I vaguely hear him comforting me, praising me for my tolerance and submission. "You did so good baby, I am so proud of you," he coos, his hands gently kneading my ass before he moves them up to my shoulders. He takes me in his arms, holding me as my tears keep flowing- a different kind of release. I melt into his embrace, the protectiveness radiating from him proving to be a stark contrast to the threat that he posed just moments ago. I continue to float just above us, allowing my tormentor to provide the much-needed comfort as I try to re-establish myself. I feel his hands in my hair, gently stroking, before he takes my face in his hands. He wipes my tears away, kissing me deeply, then pulling me into his chest as I quiet my sobs.

I tilt my head back up at him, needing another kiss to settle. He licks my lips gently, touching his tongue to mine as our lips meet. "You need to cum once more baby, then you're done, okay?" he says gently. I nod, not trusting my voice to answer. I have no idea if I will be able to cum- I still don't really feel like I am in my body.

He sits up slightly, moving his hands over my breasts and taking time to roll my nipples between his fingers. "Open your legs for me baby, I'm going to make you feel good."

I do as he says before I even realize I'm doing it, easily surrendering to his command. His hand moves between my legs, sliding between my lips to find me soaked for him. His fingers explore me until he gets a moan, and then gently settle into a rhythm. I burrow into his chest, keeping my legs open as he caresses my clit. "That's it baby, let me make you feel good. Focus on my fingers...good girl," he whispers, helping me to reconnect to myself.

He gently brings me back down, while ramping my nerves back up. He takes a brief pause to reach for the wand on the bedside table, turning it on low and placing it between my legs. I moan at the sensation, relived that it isn't too intense. He uses the wand to slowly build me up, bringing me to the edge little by little, and then all at once. Before I know it, I feel the all too familiar feeling of tension in my clit. "Sir, can I please cum for you?" I ask, barely a whisper. I have a brief moment of panic that he will say no, but I feel his lips on mine as he breathes his "yes" into my mouth.

I fall over the edge again, this time landing more softly. My body shivers in his embrace, and he keeps the wand on my clit until the shivers become trembles, dying down into nothing. He turns the wand off, kissing my forehead and putting his hand over my pussy, more comforting than stimulating. I am still floating, but feeling more and more grounded as he continues to touch my exhausted body. We lay together for who knows how long, wrapped in each other, soaking in the moment. He showers me in praise, kisses, and touch, giving me the time and space to come back down safely after the intense stimulation. I move gingerly, realizing that I am going to feel tenderness in my ass for days to come. I smile at the thought, knowing that the sensation will continue to ground me long after he's left my house.

"You have been such a good girl today," he praises, gently rubbing my body. "You did everything I said, and have made me very proud."

His validation stirs me somewhere deep inside, and my exhausted body murmurs a "thank you Sir" before I fall asleep in his arms.