Musings and experiences about BDSM and other things decadent

You lie on the floor: an angel wrapped in red.

It has been how many days since you came to me?  A day?  A week?  A year?  I can’t remember.  I have lost the days with the rhythm of you violation.

I remember seeing you at that party. An apparition with blazing red hair.  You were flirting.  Playing the room and making yourself the object of desire of everyone there.  More than one woman came to you and tasted your sex.  But that was all they were rationed–a taste.

You walked outside to take in the evening air.  You sought a cooling relief from the hotbed that you had been playing inside.  You closed your eyes and breathed in the night.  I could see your body shiver as the cool air suffused your hot desire.  You were so caught up with the sensation that you didn’t even notice my coming behind you.

It was a instant. A gag. A blindfold. Rope.

I heard later that people had wondered where you had gone.  Someone has said that you had met someone outside and had decided to go home with them.  A convenient rumor.

Your muffled screams barely registered in my ear as I carried you home.  Your home, at least.  I love this place–so far from the madness of the city; so far from chance encounters.

I waste no time once I get you inside.  I tie you against a stone pillar and rip your clothes off you.  First your blouse.  Then your temptress skirt.  You scream but the gag is doing its job.  I could take it off.  No one is going to hear you.  But I enjoy the muted aria that pours out of your mouth.  It fills me with faith.  With joy.  I feel transcendent as I listen to you.  I smile.

I pull your bra off and revel in the curves of your breasts.  I pinch your nipples and your song crescendos.  I pull them and pinch them even harder.  Now your screams turn to moans.  I force my hand between your legs and push away the crotch of your panties.  I then play with your sex.  I push my middle finger inside you to coax your wetness to flow.  Your struggle to escape, to avoid the betrayal of your orgasm, but my ropes hold.

You feel the rumbling–the spasms–as I make you cum for the first time.  But it is not to be the last.  I rip away your last piece of clothing and replace my hand with a vibrator.  I tease your clit.  I fuck you with the hard tip.  You cum again.  I fuck you with my toy to make you cum again. And again.  And again.

Now you are screaming because your body with being tortured by orgasms.  You violently shake your head as if you can shake away _les petite mortes_ that are wracking your body.  You scream and pull at the ropes that hold you to your place, but the onslaught of sensations do not stop.  You cry; you scream; you beg–but all fall into the chasm of your gag.

At last, your body stiffens and you let out a final scream.  Your body goes limp with the occasional spasm letting me know that your ordeal is still happening even in the blackness that has taken your mind.

I untie you and carry you to my ring.  I tie you again and then lift you into the air.  The red ropes cradle your body while keeping your legs spread wide for me.

I bring the salts to your nose and you wake with a start.  Your eyes are still covered, but I have removed the gag.

“Who are you?” you demand.

A swish and a crack. You scream as you receive my answer on your left inner thigh.

“Please let me go!” you scream.

Another answer on your other thigh.

You are quick to realize that speaking is not going to help you.  But silence is not your savior either.  I use the whip to streak your thighs and your sex.  You scream.  You beg.  You fight to keep control of your senses.

Still, a warmth begins to fill you.  Your head begins to float even as your thighs and pussy throb.  You feel that you are flying. Not from the ropes, but form the pain.  You feel your body radiate and your spirit soar.  Pain is not an issue for you.  You have spread your wings and are free even as the red ropes hold you.

I replace the smack of my whip on your pussy with my tongue.  I taste your cunt.  I make you draw in a deep breath as I suck your clit between my lips and press my teeth against it.  I press my fingers into your cunt and coax an orgasm from you.  I draw circles around your clit with my tongue as I fuck your ass and cunt with my fingers.  You scream as another orgasms finds its way through your body.

I stand and press my cock into you.  I use the ropes to push you back and forth.  I start slowly.  I let my cock relish the heat of your body and the wetness of your cunt.  But I cannot hold myself back.  I force you back and forth even faster.  I let my groin batter your sensitive sex as the urgency of my own orgasm rises.  I hold myself back to revel in you, on you, with you.

But you force my body to surrender to your submission. I pushmyself deep into you as if it will join us forever.  I cum.  And I feel your orgasm intertwine with mine.  I hold myself inside you long after my convulsions have gone. And I smile.

I take off your blindfold and ask you one question.

“Who am I,” I ask you.

“Master,” is your reply.