A deeper submission (BDSM themed erotica)

The house was silent when I closed the door. I put my keys gently in the bowl on the table by the stairs, and then listened a little harder. Nothing.

I took off my coat and hung it on the hooks and ran my hand through my short brown hair. In the mirror I caught a glimpse of myself and smiled. I was a lucky bastard and I damned well knew it. More lucky than most tonight.

She was upstairs, I was sure of it. Waiting in the back bedroom we’d converted into a playspace for our fantasies, no doubt. Just how she’d be waiting was a mystery and one that I was going to put to one side for a little while. Contrary to perceived wisdom we guys will not charge over to a woman who is willing and able to be our fuck toy. Patience.

I poured a glass of orange juice and sipped it down. My heart was a little faster than normal and my pants were twitching almost uncontrollably as they had been pretty much as soon as I got her text. Having to handle the rock hard bugger when I needed to pee didn’t help, so I spent a few minutes calming myself down and forced it into a cage to keep it under control. Yes, we dominant types use chastity devices as well.

Ready and fresh I climbed the stairs, leaving my suit jacket on one of the chairs in the kitchen and unfastening a couple of extra buttons. I carried a glass of OJ.

Silently I moved across the landing to the playroom door. I listened at it, trying to pick out any sounds from inside, wondering how I would find her. On her knees with her hands behind her back and her head bowed? Stood facing the corner? Naked? Head to toe in latex? The anticipation was straining at the cage.

The room was a good sized double bedroom and plainly decorated with mirrors on the narrow wardrobe walls that lined one wall and slatted blinds folded across the window that looked out across the neighbour’s garden. The floor was bare boards, perfect for creating atmosphere as the heels of my shoes tapped on the wood, while the only light came from a single spot that she had carefully trained on the place she had chosen to present herself on for me.

It was a simple table, small, and a dark wood frame with a rough oblong top. Usually it was in the corner and various masks and gags and toys were placed on it, which were now lying on the floor in a careful pile. In the middle of the room, surrounded by the props and toys we used, it looked lonely and isolated. Perhaps how she wanted to present herself.

She lay on her back: a beautiful creature of dark skin, slim limbs and small, soft breasts. She had tied herself expertly with her ankles brought tightly to her thighs with tight loops of rough rope and then fasted to a rope around her waist, holding her legs back so she appeared to squat in the air. Her hands were behind her head, crossed at her neck so as to provide support as they were barely touching the table. Her mouth was held open by a thick red ball that even her full lips could not engulf and her eyes were hidden beneath a thick padded blindfold.

I stopped in the doorway for a while to admire the work of art she had turned herself into. Her skill with the rope always amazed me and whenever she tied herself in preparation for me the bonds were tight and needed barely any work from me. Here was a fine example of her work, which no doubt she was recording on the small cameras she had insisted we install.

The cage became uncomfortable again as my love and admiration for this creature rushed through me. I heaved a deep breath, filling my lungs before stepping fully into the room. When I did my heel clicked on the wooden floor and she moved with a start. It was then I noticed the discrete plugs in her ears.

I put the glass down on the floor in the corner and walked round her, admiring her. Physically she was stunning, the perfect mix of curves and arse and tits for my taste. It was more than that though. She was kind, considerate, attentive, submissive, all the things that I found attractive in a woman. We just seemed to compliment each other.

And then there was this.

Naked. Self-tied. Blindfolded. Gagged. Waiting for me to do to her whatever I wanted. And I wanted to do things to her so badly.

I touched her arm gently and she shuddered, a low moan escaping the gag. My eyes cast down the line of her body to her beautifully exposed pussy: shaven, firm, swollen, waiting. An urge to take her then rushed through me and was beaten down by the desire to torment her.

The ropes that held her hands behind her head were crude; little more than a slipknot held the double loop around her wrists, with the loose end tied around one of the table legs. I knew what she’d done: prepared the wrist cuffs; tied her legs up; positioned herself down; threaded her hands through the cuffs and then pulled tight. It did the job but it wasn’t secure. Some wriggling would break her free. And I didn’t want her free.

It didn’t take me long to retie her. There was enough length for me to not only tie her wrists back behind her head, but also to loop around her upper arms to make sure they stayed there. Each firm tug on the rope brought a moan of pleasure from her gagged mouth. She craved my touch as much as I craved touching her.

I continued my tour of her body, finishing up between her legs. She was already starting to glow, forming a nice shine on her soft, cared for skin. Her legs were darker than usual, no doubt the blood building up in her awkward position and I played with her toes to make sure she was all right. She giggled.

So I smacked her pussy.

The giggle became a yelp, as much surprise as pain. I slapped her again, the tips of my fingers hitting her with a short, stinging blow. A third slap and a forth and a fifth and she squirmed on the table.

I laughed.

Pain turned to pleasure as I let my hand slide up her damp skin towards her breasts. She moaned again, shivering a little under my touch. My hand circled her, stroking her left breast, then coming round to rub across her right. Her nipples, hard and standing proud of their dark aureole, folded beneath my firm touch and as they sprung back she gasped. It prompted me to circle her again, and then bring into play my other hand so that I was kneading and folding her breasts as if they were bread. She squirmed beneath me, enjoying the sensations.

And then pain again. I slapped her breasts, hard, stinging slaps like the ones I’d delivered to her now moist pussy. She cried out, trying to arch her back as if that would in some way help her to escape. All it did was make them an easier target.

I let the pain build in her, soaking into her body, which squirmed and shook and moved so beautifully. As the red marks grew larger and more intense I couldn’t help but smile. Such control. Such power.

Then I stopped. Abruptly. Leaving her panting and sweating. She could wait there for a moment or three while I prepared the next stage in her torment.

I walked to the rack where we kept the floggers and paddles, making sure my shoes clicked loudly on the floor, building the anticipation in her. I looked back and saw her lying there, helpless, trying to turn her head to point in my direction. With the blindfold on it was pointless. I took my shoes off.

Silently I padded back towards her, coming around the other side of her with the heavy flogger hanging loosely in my hand. By the time she realised what was happening it was too late. The leather had swung through the air and landed with a loud thud on her stomach. She cried out.

Again and again I hit her, swinging the heavy tail over left shoulder and right, landing my blows with perfect aim on her stomach, her chest, even her bent legs. Each blow was accompanied by a loud, satisfying thud and a stifled cry of pain from my gagged victim. The cries became longer, melding together into one long moan and she shook as she cried.

I could have stopped then. I could have relieved her of the pain she was feeling, only I didn’t want to. Only I didn’t want to. Watching her squirm and cry gave me pleasure.

I changed position, aiming now for the insides of her thighs, held high and open for me. It wasn’t her thighs that I was interested in. That was the teaser and I knew that she was fully aware of what was coming. I could sense it in the way her breathing had deepened as she prepared herself. I did not disappoint.

The first blow on her pussy brought an intense reaction. She went silent, her mouth biting down hard on the gag and her entire body arching backwards as she took the pain in. It lasted for a couple of seconds and then she relaxed, making an almost deafening growl. My second blow, delivered with so much more force, produced the result, albeit her back was arched for seven or eight seconds. It was more than a dozen when the third, even harder, crashed against her soaking wet, bright red pussy.

Then I stopped, giving her a chance to rest and let the pain flow once more around her body. She was panting, perhaps sobbing, the cloth mask now starting to show signs of soaking up her tears.

There was no subtlety in what I did next. I simply grabbed her short, wiry black hair and pulled her further up the table so that her arms couldn’t rest on the top and her head sagged a little. With my left hand I unfastened my fly and pulled out my cock, still caged and desperately fighting to be free. With my right I pulled the gag out of her mouth, letting it hand from her neck like a bad joke dog collar.

Although it put up a fight the cage was vanquished and fell loudly to the floor. My cock wasted no time in swelling. I wasted no time in pushing it between her lips, her mouth opening eagerly to swallow what I forced down her throat. She choked as I rammed it home, my balls slapping against the side of her face.

“You love cock, don’t you little whore?” I hissed at her.

She nodded, gagging as she did.

“Say it, whore,” I demanded. “Say you’re a cock loving whore.”

“I’m a cock loving whore,” she repeated, her words mangled by the thing in her throat.

I held the back of her head firmly as I thrust in and out of her. She was just an object now, a thing for me to use and get pleasure from. A thing to satisfy my urges, no matter what pain or discomfort it caused her.

Only not yet. No release yet. I withdrew.

“Beg,” I told her.

“I want your cock, Sir,” she muttered.

I slapped her face. She grimaced with humiliation.

“Please, Sir,” she said in a louder voice, fighting back tears, “I want your cock. Please let me suck your cock.”

It was pushed into her mouth, then down into her throat. A single smooth motion that brought the gagging sound from inside her. I held her against me, as tight against my stomach as I could manage, held her until she started to gasp and panic for breath. Only then did I remove myself, my cock wet with her phlegm.

“Please fuck me,” she begged.

“What?”

“Please, Sir, please fuck me. Please use my cunt. Please, Sir.”

She was pleading with me, desperate for her own release. I wasn’t finished with her yet. Instead of giving her the release she craved I turned her head to point to the ceiling and then delivered a slap across her face. She yelled, only for her jaw to be extended when I caught her with the second slap. The third, fourth and fifth followed and then I lost count as I delivered stinging slaps that turned her cheeks red. I only stopped because my palm was starting to hurt.

The bound creature was crying. Tears were streaming down her face and pooling on the floor. Her lips quivered almost uncontrollably as she fought back her crying. Only a pained whimper escaped, a sound that carried with it a unique mix of pain and degradation and enjoyment.

My cock returned to her throat and this time I fucked her face hard and long. I mixed long, slow, deep penetration with short, sharp thrusts. The noises that came from her mixed low moans with gagging coughs and the sound of air being pushed piston like into her body. Always though there were the tears and when I left her mouth for the last time she was still sobbing. I put the gag back between her swollen lips to silence her.

She lay on the tabletop panting and trying to recover. I checked her legs and toes, happy that they were still alive and she could endure the discomfort a little longer. There was no point in breaking her completely, I mused, as she wouldn’t be much use to me if she weren’t supple.

When the single tail snapped across her buttocks she screamed. I knew she hated this implement, which was why I chose it. Her mind was still trapped in a world of humiliation and needed to be brought back to reality. The stings across her skin, leaving thick red welts in their wake, were what she needed. Each blow, each stinging echo, brought her back to me.

Still she cried.

As my fingers plunged into her soaking pussy the cries changed to moans of intense pleasure. My thumb worked her clit, rubbing it and teasing it with oft-practiced skill. Inside her my fingers curled, stroking her as they moved in and out and with a regular motion that had her muscles twitching and screaming for release.

“Beg me to cum,” I told her.

She did. She pleaded with me exquisitely, her words somehow becoming clear in spite of the ball between her teeth. I listened to her, revelling in the power that I had. It was my gift to decide whether she would have release or not. And each time she asked I said, “No”.

Only my own need for release was mounting. I’d kept it in check, kept focus on her and what was happening to her. It was time, I realised, for me to bring the torment to an end.

I let her cum, hot juices flowing out onto my hand and dripping onto the floor as her body spammed under such intense ecstasy. She had barely finished by the time I had removed both gag and blindfold from her. As the light flooded into her she looked at me through her confusion of tears with such love that I was compelled to bend down and kiss her warm, full lips so gently.

She was pulled down the table so that her bottom hung over the edge a little. I pulled her legs apart and then settled between them, my cock lightly touching the open lips of her sex.

“Look at me,” I told her.

She struggled to lift her head. Her soft brown eyes fixed on mine and when I gently probed deep inside her she gasped, her eyes momentarily closing. Enough for me to punish her.

If the truth were told I’d never intended on fucking her. All I wanted was her wetness on me, enough to lubricate as I shifted my position and lined up against her exposed, vulnerable arsehole. With a firm, steady pressure I worked my way into her, pushing inside her back passage. Her expression changed to show the pain and discomfort and disgust of being violated. Of being sodomised. Of being buggered.

“Why am I doing this?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, Sir,” she said, panting as I gently withdrew.

She cried out as I pushed into her again. Harder this time.

“Why?” I asked a second time.

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “Please tell me, Sir. Please.”

I laughed.

“You’re getting fucked in the arse because your cunt isn’t good enough for me. Why am I fucking you in the arse?”

“Because my cunt isn’t good enough for you,” she winced.

I had a rhythm. I was pounding her, not as hard as I could, but as hard as I wanted. She enjoyed this even less than being whipped. Not that it mattered.

My fingers and thumb settled back on her pussy, working her again. It didn’t take much to bring her close to orgasm again.

“You like being fucked in the arse, don’t you, whore?”

“No, Sir,” she said. She was rewarded with a slap across the thigh.

“You want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“And I like butt fucking you so much. So do you like it, whore?”

She nodded and then said, “Yes, Sir. I love being butt fucked by you, Sir.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So good, Sir. It feels so good to have your cock in my arse, Sir.”

I could feel the inevitable start to build inside me. I wondered how much longer I could hold on.

“Please, Sir, please fuck me harder, Sir.”

I did. I pounded her. I hurt her so much as I plunged deep into her. Her face twisted as she fought down the degradation and pain. Helpless to do anything but be abused.

“Open your mouth,” I told her.

As she obeyed my instruction I came out of her, fingers tightly gripping the base of my engorged penis. I was close now, close to release. Perhaps too close.

She laid her head to one side, opening her mouth as wide as she could. I stood over her, my eyes locked on hers. And then, with my tip gently brushing against the side of her mouth, I came. Not once did she flinch or move. She simply lay there and took all of my cum in her mouth. A week’s worth of pent up frustration exploded into her, filling her with its warm, sticky mess.

As my erection started to fade she remained there, ready to catch the last drops that I could tease out. Then she closed her mouth, swallowed and opened again to show she had drunk all of my juice. Her eyes drifted down to my rapidly shrinking member and she licked her lips and opened her mouth again.

She sucked and slurped at my cock, cleaning it expertly. I knew from her expression she didn’t enjoy the taste or what she had done, but it was her final act of submission to me. At least for now.

Reality was returning and very soon the aches in her muscles and the pain across her skin would become unbearable. Which was why I wasted little time in untying her and helping her own from the table. We then sat on the floor, my arms wrapped around her as she wept uncontrollably.

“I love you so much,” she said.

I kissed her gently on the forehead.

“I know,” I told her softly. “And I love you too.”

We stayed locked together for an hour.

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About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.

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