Muse 3 - Forced Desire 3

While I stand unsteadily on my heels, you undress. A scene that would normally have my attention, but now I am too preoccupied with keeping my balance, afraid of a graceless tumble forward. The effort it requires strains my calves. I manage much better with my eyes closed.

Then your hands grab my hair and hold me steady. Terror and relief fuse in excitement as you use my mouth to get hard. Only to fuck me from the other side, causing me to stagger forward. I enjoy your cock filling me, your hands gripping my sides, and the slow rhythm of your hips thrusting against my buttocks.

The woeful fear of falling forward remains. You demand my absolute trust because I am not allowed to put out my arms in protection. You spank my rear when I do this out of reflex, or just because you feel like colouring my bottom red. I cannot lose myself in mindless lust, due to the counterbalance of slaps and fear for falling over. With something as simple as bending over and trying to keep my balance, you already bring me in a state of rapture.

Eventually, you notice that this position is wearing me down. The dress served its purpose, fuelling your desire for me, and my need to be desirable. It comes off, and I can assume my favourite position on the thick carpet between the bed and the fireplace. Again you take me from behind. I'm so horny you have me begging for an orgasm in no time.

You don't allow it and hit my glowing buttocks hard with the flat of your hand to slow down my urge. But pain settles differently, together with a new stimulus; you roll something pointed over my skin. Delicious. With the tracing wheel (for that's what it turned out to be) you write letters I have to guess on my back, while you drive your shaft with slow strokes deep into my cunt. Because I have to keep my wits about me, it is impossible to float away completely. The lack of that sedating haze intensifies all the sensations and distracts me.

The dam bursts. A flood of lust overwhelms me, and I come. I can't revel in it, not without your permission. Satisfaction mixes with guilt. When you ask, I admit I failed to control myself and I long for punishment. The rush ebbs away; only my submission remains. Filled with remorse, I surrender to your purgative judgement. You open the suitcase and ask me to hand over the only object left. With knees buckling, I kneel before you in the Servant position. Upright, with my eyes humbly fixed on the floor, I offer you the riding crop on my open palms. Pain.

You stand behind me, and I have to move from Serve to Table. The training helps. I don't think about it, and bend over smoothly until I lean on knees and elbows. With the supple leather at the end of the whip, you gently stroke my clit. It calms me down and I take a deep breath. Don't move, you say, and the leather leaves my skin. Then the whip whistles. You strike my buttocks hard once and I groan as the searing pain burns. A fire that quickly extinguishes into a warm glow. You ask me how many of these blows I earned for coming without permission.

Now I get scared. I want to show you how strong I am, but what if I can't bear it? Ten, I say with a confidence I don't feel. You show mercy. Six will do if I beg for my punishment. Of course I do, but my fear holds me back. I fail to convince you and the number remains ten. I have to count them before each stroke lands.

Tears well up in my eyes as you carry out my punishment, blow after blow. Burning pain, glowing hot, taking a deep breath and gathering courage before saying the next number. My voice breaks. Anxiety and desire mix, because I also enjoy the beating, your merciless punishment, the two extra blows you deliver when I abandon my posture out of fear. After every blow I endure, I am stronger, braver, better. With every stroke, I prove my worth to you. At the same time, I am afraid that it will become too much for me, that I won't be able to take it anymore and pain breaks my submission. Yet I never come close to breaking. I only grow more submissive because of the pain. Yes, that's it: pain humbles me, bondage leads to surrender.

Then it's over and I may assume the next pose, Rug. Exhausted, sweaty and panting, I stretch myself out on the thick carpet, legs wide, wrists crossed on my back. I shiver all over my body, the tension in my muscles slowly ebbing away. The blazing fire on my buttocks turns to a warm glow. When I glance over my shoulder, I find your eyes and I see your awe; I've held out until the end and it's enough.

You kiss my neck tenderly and apply the scented oil I know well by now. It tingles on the marks you drew with the whip. Your hands massage the worst of the tension from my muscles. Finally, you remove my chain linked hair clips and drape my hair over my back.

With the loosening of my tight hairdo, I arrive at a state of mindless peace. Thoughtless, but not without lust. Your caressing hands and the warm fire in my buttocks spreading to my cunt fuels my desire for more.

The game continues; I have to Stand and Present, hands in my neck, legs spread. You kiss my lips, my neck, my nipples. I shudder when you suck on them, moan when you gently bite. A heady melange of pain, pleasure, fear and desire, especially when your hand simultaneously plays with my cunt far too gently.

When I move my hips to feel more of your fingers, you step back. With eyes full of lust and a smile that doesn't bode well, you take the two hair clips, adjust the screws and clamp them on my swollen nipples one by one. Your gaze is the only reason I don't flinch; to bask in your desire for me is divine. As the metal squeezes my tender skin, I wince at the stinging pain that slowly subsides and intensifies the warm glow between my legs.

Floor is the next position: lying with my arms trapped under my back, my legs spread wide as far apart as possible, my gaze focused on the ceiling painted red by the setting sun. Carefully, you connect the two clamps on my nipples with a small chain. Then you take the whip and with the end of it you caress my body; along my legs, my sides, my shoulders, my head, as if you were tracing me on the carpet with a long leather brush. My whole body stiffens, but a storm rages in my head and I break out in a sweat. A seething mixture of fearing what you might do to me while I'm defenceless, and excitement of being available, only existing to please you.

The caress of the whip ends at the lips of my soaking cunt. You drive me even hornier when you gently tap my labia with the leather end of the crop, and I sink deeper and deeper into ecstasy. You threaten to hit harder, I think. I only catch half of it. Drops spill from my cunt and part of me even hopes you do it, because I yearn for more stimuli. I would come if you continued, but you don't.

At last your cock slides in effortlessly as you tower above me. I'm powerless, whether or not I am bound. Powerless to hold back my orgasm for long as well. You drive me crazy when you take me, thrust deep inside me with your hands like hooks around my shoulders and your eyes filled with admiration.

Tears fill mine, my vision blurs and I close my eyes. I will not keep this up. I'm going to disappoint you, I'm going to come again without permission. The fear helps, but not for long. You show mercy by torturing me, pulling the chain between the two clamps with your teeth. Stings flare through my nipples and dampen the urge to climax.

You slip out and stand, towering over me and leaving me empty. Slipping the stick of the whip under the chain, you slowly lift it and command me to rise. I follow, slow and careful to stir the chained clamps as little as possible. You lead me on the bed, crawling until I reach the centre on hands and knees. There you place the whip flat on the mattress with my palms on either end, the chain trapped under the stick, dangling from the clamps on my nipples.

I'm so deep in my submission that pain is only welcome, as it helps me to follow your rules and suppress my orgasm. It fails when you start fucking me from behind. I push myself up, tugging the chain taut and the biting clamps pull on my nipples. Anything to stop my orgasm. No matter how high I push myself, no matter how far I stretch my nipples, your fat, pounding cock overwhelms everything. My need to come remains, the torment even strengthens it. Every sensation does.

That is the moment you grant me permission. With the clamps pulling on my nipples, I come groaning. I come again when the clamps tear loose. There is no way to stop it. I scream in pain, in pleasure. Pain is pleasure. My continuously contracting cunt around your cock is too much for you as well. You pull out and with shuddering shocks you come, roaring and splashing your seed over my back, over my buttocks and against my cunt, which only makes me come again, even without being filled. I have satisfied you, broken your restraint.

I am in a state of utter bliss as aftershocks rock my body. I am totally and thoroughly fucked, still shivering from, well, from what? The intense series of orgasms, the submissive rush, the pain, the pleasure? Everything in me focuses on obeying and pleasing you. When you want me to lie down, I need you to order me. I would stay in my previous pose all night had you required me to. Now I understand how you can play this game regardless of sex. I don't care what you do to me, the intoxication of torment mixed with lust, the power you have over me, already incites such glorious delight that sex is only a bonus.

All I want now is you pulling me back slowly. I need you to cuddle and embrace me, and you do. Held tight in your arms, we both pant. Your body pressed against mine shelters me, and I savour your embrace. We lock eyes, speechless, grateful and exhausted. You remove the plug but don't wipe me down and I enjoy the smell of your sticky seed mixed with our sweat. I still crave you, despite my exhausted body. My head reels and as I sleep, I dream of you. Strange, chaotic dreams.

When you kiss me awake, you already dressed because you have to arrange the last preparations for our journey. You've let me sleep in as long as possible and serve me a tray with coffee and sandwiches at the foot of the bed. My travelling clothes hang neatly on a peg along with the cleaned plug, and a hot bath is waiting for me.

No matter how long you allowed me to sleep, it's as if a train ran me over; no, fucked me. My goodness, I'm still tired. I can't stop yawning, even breakfast and coffee are to no avail. Apparently, I'm not insatiable after all. Besides the fatigue, I can do without my submissive frenzy for a while, no matter how delicious it is.

Well my dear readers, congratulations, you arrived at the midpoint of the story. I hope it was worth the journey till now. If those who read all chapters would be so kind to sound off with a comment (any comment, a single symbol would be fine) I can get a sense of how many people actually kept reading the manuscript from beginning to end. Thank you in advance for your troubles, and be prepared for the second half of this tale, for it's about to get a little darker. Enjoy!

OnceMoreWithFeeling