In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 07

I knelt between her legs again and just stared at her body. Her tan was fucking gorgeous, the top of her bathing suit having left ridiculous, almost scandalous tan lines.

She blushed, embarrassed.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Looking at her spread out body, nipples and clit swollen to an extreme torment, I wanted to fuck her, but my cock was only partially aroused. I had really outdone myself on this trip. I knew she could get it hard immediately by sucking it, but I liked how my torture of her played out without a hard on.

"I want you," she had that gleam of hope.

"I know you do. And for the record, you will not get any of it. You, my dear, are going to suffer. Or was I not clear?"

Her eyes looked shocked and full of despair. "Jonathan? Haven't you tortured me enough?" She was fucking welling up again.

I dangled the gag again. "I was hoping not to use this anymore today."

She closed her eyes, a tear escaped without her control. I wiped it away and kissed her eyes and she lost it. Waterfall. I decided to leave her for a bit in her pain.

So I got up and got a beer and poured her a glass of Champagne. She looked at me pleadingly. Fucking gorgeous. The sun had kissed her perfectly.

I sat in the chair across from her and drank long sips of my beer and just watched her lie there, smiling at her wickedly.

"You're cruel, Jonathan," she breathed.

I walked over to the bed and lifted her head with one hand, and fed her some Champagne with the other. "Yes, I suppose I am," I admitted. "And you love it."

Her breathing normalized as I continued to feed her the Champagne.

"Good?" I asked, sweetly, tenderly. She seemed a little relaxed even, calm, almost content. Her desire had ebbed a bit, but it wouldn't be gone for long, and I would get her back to an uncomfortable pulse again, only to leave her to sleep alone for the night. I would sleep in the pull-out bed. I loved thinking about her mental torture.

"Yes. Better."

"I'm glad. I'd like to finish my movie and then head to bed. You tired?"

She just moaned, knowing I would leave her tied up tonight.

"You love me, you poor thing. It's your curse in life."

She strained. "Please take pity on me, Jonathan. You love me too. You are making me go insane. Please have mercy on me."

"Maybe tomorrow. Certainly not tonight. So just accept it. You chose to stay. Are you having second thoughts? Would you rather we find you a flight tonight, and you can go home? It is your choice, Emily."

I knew that got her right in the pit of her stomach. Her lip quivered. She just whispered, painfully, "Please . . ." Her voice rattled through the whisper.

"Not a chance, Emily. This brings me too much pleasure."

I took the empty glass and beer bottle and placed it on the nightstand. I positioned myself back behind her and immediately her breathing picked up. I laughed. It was just awful for her. Her body betrayed her, her nerves, her fear, her excitement, her lust burst out at the slightest movement from me. She was sent from heaven for me to torture. I just couldn't get enough.

I pressed play and left the gag out, warning her. I needed to settle back in to finish the movie so I just lightly played with her tortured nipples and belly, absent-mindedly, tolerating her moans. I was gentle, soft on her raw nipples but didn't relent entirely.

I picked up the vibrator and held it between her legs, not moving it. Then I began to lightly run it up and down her slit. "Oh god, Jonathan, oh god, yes, please," her begging was endearing but a distraction. It was time I got serious. I gave her way too much leeway to disobey me.

"You leave me no choice." I got up and stuffed the ball gag right back into her mouth. "Your fault."

Unintelligible, muffled pleas escaped through the gag as I placed it back on, "Plee . . . no . . .don't . . . pl . . ."

I knelt down in front of her, between her legs and slapped her pussy. Hard. Five times in a row. The wet smack echoed and I couldn't believe how red she got so fast. I could see it clearly because she was bare. I had no idea how sensitive her skin was there. I had slapped her there a million times, never realizing how sensitive and painful it was for her. I smacked a few more times, watching the red hue grow and grow. Beautiful, I thought. "Calm down. Now. Or I continue to slap your pussy."

I took my fingers and tickled her sensitive, red pussy. She was actually twitching down there! I had never seen that before, but because she had not a speck of hair covering or protecting her, I could see her clit move and her lips twitch. I chuckled. I had never seen anything like it.

I became wicked about it. I got the feather back out, watched her eyes beg for mercy, and tickled, watching to see where the touches caused the most twitches. It was right on the insides of her pussy lips, surprisingly, not her clit, that caused the most involuntary, obviously painful twitches of all. It must have tickled like hell. What a discovery. The tickles there produced the same effect as her sweet little tummy and nipples, maybe more. At least she could come from nipple play if given the right circumstances. She would never be able to come like this. It tickled too damn much for her. I could tell. She thrashed above me, pulling on the leeway of her wrist restraints as if she were going insane, losing her mind. She probably was. God, her body amazed me. More ways to torment my helpless Emily.

I slapped and tickled until I got bored. And it took me a long time to get bored. I just couldn't get over how much it made her tremble and suffer. I could have done it all night. It was fun, like a game, to get these involuntary reactions from her, like a doctor doing a reflex test on a knee. She twitched and twitched, and I dangled the feather cruelly above her pussy before I touched down again. She fought to get free. This was the most fun I had had with her in a while. Pure, blissful torture.

I wasn't a ticklish person, so I didn't completely understand the feelings of tickle torture but poor Emily was. When we first starting dating, she shared way too much information with me, before she knew I'd use it against her. Things about her tummy and being tickled and her nipples and how she had never had an orgasm. That she always faked it. I wondered if she wished she had never told me her secrets. I wondered if she wished she had never learned the ecstasy of an orgasm. I wondered if she wished she hadn't become so addicted to wanting orgasms, doing almost anything to have another one.

I stopped the torture and picked up the vibrator and drew it down her slit and touched her clit up and down, slowly. I saw her eyes glaze over. A part of me wanted to please her, I really did. I did love to make her feel good, to send her to Cloud Nine. But I knew if I made her wait, it would ultimately be better for her. And today was more to serve as a punishment, not a reward.

I thrust the vibrator in her and she tried to meet the thrust and then I pulled it out and shut it off, leaving her unfulfilled. I waited a couple of minutes and placed it back on her clit, lightly, tenderly, and stuck my fingers in her hole, scraping the insides of her as she tensed. Jesus Christ. She almost came. She was too close, and I could barely touch her without her right there, ready to explode. No more of that. God. Her fucking eyes looked so tormented, as she tried to beg me through them, her voice mute from the gag.

I took my seat behind her again and decided to finish up the movie without much more fanfare. I took out her gag and just tenderly stroked her collarbone, watching her breathing. I placed my hands gently under her tits, resting my thumbs on her persecuted nipples. I didn't move my fingers at all; I just rested my hands as she squirmed painfully. "Jonathan . . ."

"Sssh, Emily. I don't want to gag you again. Really. I don't. I just took it out. Be a good girl." My movie was almost over. I hadn't realized that I had started to tickle her belly. Habit I guess. So I continued and stretched my hands down to rest on her pussy, gently tucking my pointer finger into her. She moaned and whimpered but she didn't beg. She wanted to please me.

I jumped up. "Great movie!" I announced. "Did you like it?" I teased. I knew she hadn't gotten one glimpse of it, as I untied her and she curled into my arms. It was 11:30. She had been tied up for over 4 hours. Poor baby.

She was visibly shaking. I wiped the dried tears from her face and kissed it, tenderly, gently, sweetly for what felt like an eternity. I licked her lips and kissed them softly, stroking her cheek and hair. I whispered in ear to breathe, to relax, lulling her to find comfort and security, as she moaned into me. I was so cruel to her and yet, she yearned for me. Without comforting her this way, she would crumble and fall apart. I made sure I was gentle after I inflicted my sadistic torture on her. I had my sick needs but I could also be tender when needed. And she needed it now.

"Make love to me," she said glazed over.

I kissed her with finality. It was time to go to bed. "Only in your dreams tonight. Go wash up. Go to the bathroom, before I change my mind."

She came back. "Why is the bed made out there? "

I had made it when I grabbed a beer. "Because. I am sleeping there tonight."

I actually had some business to attend to down here in Miami that she didn't know about. I might actually be moving down here, and I truly needed to be well rested and sharp for my am meeting.

"Why?" She trembled. "Please don't."

"Will you ever stop begging?" I teased. "I don't want you squirming and begging me all night. I'm tired and want a good night's sleep. Sadly, I don't think you're going to find the same peace as me, not tonight."

"I promise," she just couldn't control herself. "I won't say a word, I promise."

God she was fucking needy, and I loved it. "No. Maybe you won't but you'll move around and thrash about and moan . . ." I trailed.

"I know a way to fix that," she looked into my eyes deeply, seductively. She was good. She was really good at tempting me.

"No, Emily, not tonight. Don't make me punish you further," I was exhausted and was losing my patience.

She literally looked saddened, and my slight annoyance with her vanished. I decided not to tie her legs together, just her arms behind her back, just to ensure she was slightly uncomfortable, forced to think about her vulnerability and helplessness. I kissed her forehead. "Good night, sweet Emily."

She wanted to beg so badly. I was proud of her for not doing it. "Good night, Jonathan." I saw a tear trickle down her cheek from her closed eyes that she couldn't wipe.

I couldn't leave her alone just yet. She was in too much pain. At times, even sadists can be kind. But deep down, I knew I did it to keep her attached to me, addicted, filled with an emotional pull to me. The kindness I showed was also sadistic in its own way. I loved her craving me like this. I crawled behind her. "Sssh, Emily. I'm a sadist. You know that. And you, my dear, are a masochist or you wouldn't stay here. You do realize that, right?"

"Yes," she whispered, defeated.

"It's okay. I love you. I love you very much. You're so beautiful, Emily, so perfect for me. You bring me so much pleasure. I will satisfy you tomorrow at some point. I do promise. You need not worry too much." And I meant every word.

She softly cried and I let her. I kissed her neck and stroked her hair again, as if she were a lost, little child. Sometimes, I felt like that's exactly what she was. She turned to face me when her cries had stopped. "I love you so much, Jonathan."

"Yes, my sweet Emily. I love you too. Good night. Sweet dreams," and I rose to leave.

And as hard as it was for me, I left her, alone. I walked over to the freshly- made bed and just crashed into the cleaned sheets.

When I awoke the next morning, I laughed out loud. The little conniver somehow made it into my bed. I couldn't even get pissed at her. It was too cute, too sweet, so desperate. I hadn't tied her legs, so she was free to get up. And get up she did. She marched her little naked body right over to my bed and snuggled into me without me even knowing. I wondered how long she had been there, and I wondered if I should punish her for it. I certainly should. And yet, it was adorable. God she fucking needed me. And truth be told, I fucking needed her and needed her like this.

She must have sensed me staring at her, and her eyes flew open, terrified at what she had done, now realizing it may not have been such a good idea. She flung herself up to sit stiffly and began stuttering. "Um . . .Jonathan, I . . . I was only stopping in for a second . . . I must have fallen asleep . . . I didn't meant to stay . . ." She was rambling, trembling, so beside herself.

I stared her down. Her lip quivered, her arms, still tied behind her back, pushed her tits into my face. She was vulnerable and nervous. She looked down frantically, unable to cover her body. I could have done anything I wanted to her right then. And I wanted to prolong her agony, her justified fear. But honestly, my mood today was different, and rather than torture my little doe, I wanted to ravish her, savor her, bring her great pleasure. But she didn't need to know that, not yet.

"So what exactly happened here, Emily?" I tried to sound angry, but I was just toying with her. I actually had planned a relaxing, comforting day for Emily. I also had a surprise waiting for her tonight.

Her body quaked. "I had a dream, a nightmare actually, and I got up to shake it off, and when I peeked my head in, you were sleeping so soundly, I didn't think it would matter if I just laid with you for a few minutes. " She wouldn't look at me.

"And was this just a few minutes ago? " I enquired cruelly. She knew where this was leading.

"No," she admitted. She could have lied. Never. Not my Emily.

"So how long have you been here, snuggled next to me?"

"A while . . . I . . ."

I cut her off. "And what do you think I should do about this?"

She wouldn't look up. Her lip started to tremble again, and I knew she was going to cry. I didn't want her to. I lifted her chin so that her eyes were forced to look into mine. I hoped she saw that I was only toying with her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Please . . ."

I smiled down at her. "Breathe, Emily. I'll forgive you." I really did feel bad for the nightmares she was prone to. I'm sure she had been scared by it.

She exhaled and squirmed into me.

I pushed her away slightly to look over her nipples. They were still red and swollen. "Poor girl," I said and then lightly kissed one nipple and then the other.

She moaned so loudly it made me laugh. I continued to lick her nipples, squeezing her tits together so that I could lick them at the same time. I was not being harsh or cruel. I was being gentle, trying to soothe their rawness.

"Stay still," I warned.

She sat cross-legged, arms firmly tied behind her back. I had full access to her nipples, whether she liked it or not.

"Good girl," I said to her. God she wanted to please me, so I would let her come. Not yet. Much too early for that. And, I had a meeting to get to.

"Jonathan, oh Jonathan . . ." she moaned and writhed and tried to squeeze her legs together.

"No. Stay seated just the way you are."

And I continued, lightly kissing and licking her sensitive and overused nubs.

"Come. Turn around," I instructed and untied her arms.

"Aaah," she let out a sigh as she shook her arms, trying to get back normal circulation.

"Hurts?" I asked.

"Yes," she paused. "Everywhere," and she drew her eyes down to between her legs and then back up to mine, begging.

"I can imagine," I smiled and rubbed her shoulders and arms, as she pressed against me. "I have to be somewhere in an hour. Come wash me in the shower. Then you can spend the day by the pool, pamper yourself, get a pedicure, a massage, whatever you need."

She paused. "Where do you have to go? Can I come with you?"

"No. It's business."

I saw nervousness and fear flash in her eyes. She hated when I kept secrets. If I told her I might really be leaving her, for real, to move down here, it would crush her. I honestly didn't want to do that to her today. Call me sweet. Call me a romantic. But I didn't want to let her go, not for real.

I tried to make light of the situation. "And you'll be happy to know, I have a very sweet one-piece bathing suit waiting for you, in your actual size. I would not allow you to wear what you wore yesterday without me present."

She breathed. I hadn't realized she was holding her breath. "Maybe I should wear it then," she said feistily, playfully. The chick had fucking guts. She could sense she was safe today, that my mood was also playful.

"Are you teasing me, Emily? Have you forgotten what I did to you yesterday, so quickly? Do we need a repeat?"

She blushed profusely and quickly shifted gears. "How long will you be?"

"Most of the day. So I have some requests."

"Requests?" she said slowly, shakily.

"Yes," I smiled at her. "And if you fulfill them all, I will give you many orgasms later."

She sighed, closed her eyes tightly and then opened them slowly. She found my eyes. "Promise me. I need you, Jonathan."

"I promise, Emily." And this time, I knew I would keep my promise.