Sadist and Maso

She's a bite-sized hot pepper of a woman, with laughter in her eyes and a set of legs that I love to watch move, especially when she wears stilettos. It's a challenge to keep up with her and God knows I love a challenge, particularly when the reward for victory is oh so sweet! I don't know her full past, but I can imagine that more than one man has wrecked himself on the rocky shores of her attitude. She's a bitch sometimes, my little spitfire.

Just the other night I was sitting and watching her read, book in hand, curled up on the loveseat. It was evening and rain was tapping lightly on the rooftop, just enough to make her drowsy. The medical text she was reading contributed a bit, but she'd prepared for that with a strong cup of coffee. I'll never understand how she's able to drink it and still go to bed. I hate coffee anyway.

***two nights ago***

Sitting there with the light tan-colored throw covering her, I watch her head nod. I've been patiently waiting all evening for her to get her necessary reading done. I made a mental bargain with myself that I would NOT interfere until she says she is done or she stops really reading. As her cute chin lands on her chest, I know the time I've been waiting for is upon me.

Quietly I stood up from our bed, stretching my arms and chest lightly to make sure I'm warmed up. My light shirt and boxers are always enough to keep me warm despite the cool night air, but with evil thoughts in mind they're quickly removed and cast aside. The cold air has the expected effect on my erection, but as I stealthily creep closer to her seat I get harder and longer.

My head cocked a moment, I consider my prey. Her dark brown hair frames her peaceful face, long and lustrous as it drapes over a cheekbone and cascades onto her chest, the end showing a slight curl. One foot, covered in a cute striped sock, projects from beneath the throw rug like a soldier braving the night watch on a winter evening. As I look, she shifts slightly and her foot retreats towards the covering wool.

Perhaps sensing my presence, her shift in position turns into a yawn and her eyes start to open. During that moment of sleepy vulnerability, I strike like a viper. My hands reach down and pin her arms against her sides. A startled shriek is muffled by my lips as I catch her up, wrapping her against my chest and twining her within the woolen wrap as I lift her bodily from the couch.

Her lips move against mine and she tries making a sound of protest, like a cat caught unawares, but I ignore her noises just as I ignore the heavy textbook bouncing off my foot as it falls to the hardwood floor. As I continue lifting her, I break the liplock and turn the upwards motion into a heave that places her stomach against my shoulder, not quite the fireman's carry that I'd planned but better than I'd hoped for since she is now beginning to struggle.

"Dammit let me down! You know I have to get this work done!" Taking the few steps to the bed with my quick, firm stride, I toss her from my shoulder onto it. As she begins unwrapping herself from the throw, I use the opportunity to seize hold of her pajama bottoms. "Oh hell no!", she gets out before I whisk them off, grinning at her like a lion might look at its prey. Her eyes are bright, but her lips are stern as she shakes a fist at me.

"What the fuck are you thinking you're up to, mister? There is not a hope in hell...AAAH!" Her shriek is even louder now, as I pounce on my luscious vixen and set my teeth against her neck, biting and sucking while my hands struggle to contain her wrists. She is bucking under me, fighting to get away more seriously.

I leave her neck for a moment and let go one hand to focus on her other. Quickly pinning it, I snap the handcuff on it and seal them, trapping her to one of the bedposts. "Goddammitmotherfucker!" The struggle for the other arm starts.

She knees at my groin, but I block with a hip and use my larger weight to pin her down firmly. Flailing her arm keeps it out of my grasp for a few moments, until I tire of the game and grab her by that long hair. Once her head is still, I look into those warm brown eyes and deliver a ringing slap to her cheek, stunning her lightly. It is the first time ever that I've struck her on the face in our play. In the moment that follows, I capture her wrist and lock it quickly with the other pair of cuffs. The cursing rises in volume, as does the flopping on the bed and kicking at me as hard as she can.

I slip quickly out of reach and let her wind herself up like a clockwork toy. Words pour from her mouth like a river over a waterfall, angry sounding but beautiful to hear. I smile at her tirade, egging her on with my silence as I move around the room, flipping off lights and returning her book to a resting spot on the loveseat in our small efficiency flat. As I move back towards the bed, I take a moment to stop and gather my favorite tool.

She is silent a moment as I grab hold of it. She's become familiar with this belt, heavy leather that I love to feel in my hands. The heft of it is perfect for swinging; the weight helps it achieve a decent speed that combines with my strength to make a sexy "POP!" as it lands. The marks can last for days, even a week or more if I strike her in the right places.

I step to the bedside and finally speak.

"Give me your left leg." She glares at me and curses, so I strike with precision and ruthlessness, landing the strap directly on her exposed belly. It's a light hit that makes a point rather than causing pain. She knows I can do worse. I see in her eyes that fire I love so much.

She bitches a little more and doesn't obey, so I take the belt and lay a stripe across her chest this time, a little more heavily. The sound of her spitting obscenities is music to my ears. I watch her lift her leg as requested, straight up from the hip towards her shoulder. I admire how flexible she is; watching this reminds me of her doing yoga in the mornings. As I contemplate the well formed leg, I reach out and grasp her foot near the ankle with my left hand. Tracing from the malleolus downwards, I slide my palm across the sensitive back of her knee and then lower still.

As my hand descends towards her buttock, she decides the fight isn't over and twists violently, trying to kick me in the chest or head. She's in such an awkward position that I am easily able to dodge. I do so by leaning into her, unexpectedly pushing my chest under her leg and using my body to lever not one but BOTH those sexy legs against her chest. As I fold her in half, I take in the sight and smell of her sex, wet and warm beneath me.

I begin spanking her ass with my left hand now, strong sharp strikes that have my years of martial arts training behind them. Her curses have stopped and her breath is coming heavily now. As I rain smack after smack onto her taut ass cheeks, I can feel her legs and body relaxing under me as she realizes she is helpless to prevent this and begins to surrender to her masochism. The moan I've been looking forward to escapes from her lips and the erotic pleasure behind it makes me harder than steel.

Reaching my right hand out towards the headboard, I'm thankful that she's a short woman as I grab the coil of rope that lies there, waiting for this moment. Before she realizes what's happened, I've secured the readied slipknot around her ankles and pulled it tight around them both. As she begins kicking, I haul on the end of the rope. Like a pulley, it's been passed around the metal bar that makes up the top rail of the headboard, so that as I pull towards the base of the bed her legs go up past her head.

Lashing it quickly to the footboard railing, off to one side, I examine my lover as I grab my belt again. Her ass is fully exposed to me and already red from the spanking. Realizing what's coming, she tries to wiggle to one side as she continues blaspheming, but I'll have none of that. Yanking on the rope to tighten it and throw her off balance, I swing my belt with a vengeance.

With each blow, a startled little yelp emerges from those sexy lips. I take a moment between blows to ask, "What do you say?" and get the expected saucy response of "Fuck you!" in return. I continue my assault on her now rose-red ass, leaning into it a bit more. Her cries grow louder as I continue. Ten strokes have landed.

"What do you say?" is asked again, and the reply comes, "Thank you! I guess."

The belt rises again and I continue. It's turning into a full on beating now, as the endorphins are kicking in and her pain tolerance has grown by leaps and bounds. Another ten strokes land with no change in her attitude. So I move the strikes a little, no longer on her ass cheeks but further down (or up, in this position) onto her hamstrings. The resulting full-throated scream is particularly satisfying to the cruel bastard in me.

I continue for a few more strikes, enjoying the sound of leather on flesh and hearing her start to sob in pain as I direct each blow onto the sensitive back of her legs. "What do you say?" I ask again, belt in hand as I gaze into her tear-filled eyes and see the look of a woman who's ready to submit, now that I've proven my power over her.

"Thank you, sir. May I have more please?" I smile, and oblige.