I’m not sure how this story starts. On the one hand, I really have been such a good girl this week. I rose to impossible standards and bit my tongue – nothing short of a miracle. But, on the other hand, I did steal a couple of orgasms.

So, I’m not really sure how much of last night was a reward and how much was a consequence.

I’ve never done good rope before… Remember that little issue with patience? So, as I was lying naked on my back, as ordered (silently asking how I repeatably allow myself to get into these predicaments), it wasn’t really a surprise that my body shook with anticipation. It only got worse when the clamps came out and were secured tightly.

He started his project with my wrists. Just the feeling of the fibres against my skin made my pussy wet. He placed the blindfold gently over my eyes, and I could sense something taking over – I was defenceless. I kind of liked it.

As he slowly worked his magic, securing me in place one knot at a time, I noticed the slight roughness of the rope juxtaposed with the softness of his hands. It still felt like purely a reward as he began to secure my legs. This part took longer but every time he pulled the rope across my chest, and it tugged, ever so slightly, on the nipple clamp’s chain I had to fight back an orgasm.

Apparently, I like rope… A lot. I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it, but he teased me just the right amount. Little clips were secured all over my pussy. I was wet and shaking. I could have laid there all night blocking out everything but that rope, his hands and that delightful tinge of pain.

Suddenly the feeling of a long, hard object startled me out of my relaxed state. This was not my first experience with a spreader bar. This was, however, my first time with a true sadist. He secured it in such a way that if I relaxed my legs, even just for a moment, the bar would pull my nipples clamps. Ouch. And, if I raised them to ease the discomfort that comes with keeping a position that long, the bar would rub against the clips. Ouch.

Predicament bondage. Ouch.

Forced to chose my pain, my body went into overdrive. Every sensation tripled in intensity.

Which reminds me – do you know the chosen punish for stealing orgasms? Basically torture.

I was naive enough to think the magic wand he pushed between my legs was solely more reward. He whispered softly that I could cum as much as I wanted and my soul soared. Until maybe the fifth time. Then it was just too intense.

That’s when I realized that stealing is kind of a big deal. I couldn’t get away from that wonderful toy. That evil toy. That wonderfully evil toy. Whatever I tried just amounted to more pain. I begged him to stop but he just laughed and reminded me that I loved to cum so much I thought it was OK to do it without permission

…it’s not. Have I mentioned that? Lesson. Learned.

Then he decided to turn it off. Relief flooded through me. Except when a sadist gives you relief you should probably be a bit nervous. He took advantage of the break to remind me of each little discomfort I could choose. Pulling on the nipple clamps. Flicking the clips. Keeping me just off balanced enough that I forgot what happened when I put my knees down… Or up.

And then he started talking.

I wish I could tell you exactly what he said. I wish I could bottle that feeling or record the message. I wish I could have it any time I wanted. I just remember being ready to quit and hearing “it’s ok. Give in”. I remember the soothing way he spoke to me as he tortured my body. I remember the moment I took his advice and surrendered.

My whole body relaxed and let go as my mind melted into the scene. I felt my legs spread wide and all I wanted at that moment was for him to use me for whatever made him happy. I wanted to give myself to him entirely. It just suddenly clicked – this was his body to abuse for his pleasure. It’s just that simple. If that meant pain, I’d gladly take it. I didn’t even waste energy hoping he would allow me some relief before he was finished with me.

I’ve never felt that surrender before. That complete abandon. It was perfect.

The rest is a blur. By the time that he told me to fuck him, I was done. Completely out of control, still physically bound but more mentally free than I’ve ever felt, I moved every inch of my body like a bitch in heat.

I didn’t just want that cock to explode inside of me. I needed it. With every cell in my body, I felt desperation so intense it probably should have scared me. Nothing scared me by then. I let go of all the conditioning and brattiness I had used as a defence. It was all id. Just raw desire manifesting.

And when he finally let me have it, I knew I had earned every last drop.

(There’s definitely more than one story here, Sir)