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“Come here,” he orders, “and take your clothes off.”

I obey quickly. Now I am naked, and he is dressed, and I feel a shiver go through me that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

“Kneel,” he commands.

I quickly assume the position, and he pulls my head toward his crotch and rubs my face against his hard cock. It makes me happy that he gets just as turned on from dominating me as I do from being dominated, and I hum a little while I nuzzle him.

After a trip to the toy cabinet he sits again, holding my collar. I lean forward so he can fasten it around my neck, and I start to relax; warmth starts building inside me. Then he tilts my chin up to put on my blindfold, and I meet his eyes for a moment, and smile. The act of him putting it on, of taking away my sight, always pushes me toward subspace, makes it easier somehow for me to stop thinking, to just feel and react and submit.

I start to feel a little floaty.

He fastens my leash to the ring on my collar, and I get floatier. God, I love that leash. “Wrist,” he says, and I lift my left hand for him to fasten the cuff—and suddenly, kneeling there on the floor, wearing my collar and my leash, I feel like a puppy lifting her paw. And although I have no interest in puppy play, still, this makes me feel giggly and happy, and I laugh while he fastens all my cuffs in place.

He pulls my leash, until I crawl up and across the bed. He fastens my leash to the bed, then clips ropes to my wrist cuffs. As he goes to fasten my ankles, he pauses.

“How did you get those bruises on your leg?”

“I have no idea,” I say, “I just noticed them this morning. I probably ran into something,” which is a common occurrence for me.

“Hmm,” he says, and fastens my ankle cuffs to the ropes.

I’m already so turned on that I’m close to dripping, and my happiness level is skyrocketing. I stay in position, kneeling on all fours, happy little sub, waiting to see what will come next.

WHACK! is what comes next.

“Ouch!” I yell, then laugh, because it didn’t really hurt, it just surprised me.

“That’s for not taking care of yourself,” he says sternly.

“Thank you, Sir!” I answer. Then: “You love me,” happily. It strikes me as slightly absurd that he is expressing his love and concern about my well-being by whacking me, and that I am happy about it. This is a strange life sometimes.

He swats me a few more times, then hits me with my be-hatted ping-pong paddle (yes, I bought a hat for it, it’s soft and snuggly and it makes the paddle thud instead of sting, and I love it very much, even if it does have a dingle-ball on top 😀 ). It feels so good, and I moan and push my rump back toward him, asking for more.

“I think I could hit you with this all night, and you wouldn’t complain.”

I make a happy little sound of agreement.

“But what fun would that be?” he asks rhetorically, and swats me again–with the bare paddle. I screech—damn, that hurts!–and he chuckles.

That should have been my first warning.

“I don’t know why we even have this,” he muses, and hits my ass with something stingy, “this mini-flogger with the leather tails, we never use it. I know why we have THIS, though,” he says, and I hear a CRACK! as a line of fire flares across my ass. I yowl in earnest, then whimper and wiggle a few times, waiting for the pain to die down.

“I so need to get rid of that fucking crop!” I gasp when I can breathe again.

“You’re not allowed to get rid of it,” he says smugly, “I like it.”

He beats me with other implements of destruction for a few minutes. My ass is getting warm, and everything is starting to feel more like pleasure and less like pain. I pout when he stops.

Then I hear it the sound of a dial, and I smell ozone.

“Oh, shit!” I say, with real feeling. I love my violet wand, I do, but I also hate it, because he can **zzaaapp** me like nobody’s business with that thing.

He starts out slow, though, and I settle in and enjoy the lovely, light electrical charge against my skin.

“Well, that’s obviously not high enough,” he says, and turns the dial up. It’s a little stronger, but still bearable, and he is disappointed, because he wants to hear me yip. So he cranks it up again and I can hear it whirring, and I know this time, this time, it’s gonna hurt.

“No no no no no no no no no no!” I wail, not even waiting to feel it. He chuckles–an evil, evil chuckle–and zaps my cunt with a full charge.

I howl, I mean really HOWL, and try to flatten myself against the bed, but he just chuckles again, and starts working me over. Damn this blindfold, I can’t see where he is and I don’t know where he’s going to get me next until ZZAAAPP! and I scream again.

“Up,” he says, tapping under my rib cage. “Noooo,” I whimper, because I know what’s coming. “Up!” he says again, and this time there is no missing the command. I lever myself up reluctantly, and he grabs my breast, holds it still, then ZZAAAAPPP!!! right on the nipple. I scream–the kind of scream that, if we lived in the city, would probably result in multiple 911 calls. It takes me a few seconds to catch my breath, and I think “Okay, that hurt, but it can’t get any worse than that.”

He lets the wand build up another good charge, I brace myself–

And then he lets his Inner Sadist come out to play

Oh. My. God.


Molten fire runs up my leg, across my back, and down the other side again. It is pain like I have never felt. I screech, buck, struggle to get away, but I’m trapped. The wand has never felt like this before, and I wonder what he’s doing different, but when he does it again, I stop thinking.

Finally he stops to let me catch my breath.

“What are you DOING to me??” I demand.

“Well,” he says, “you keep saying you want me to use the wheel on you.”

“That’s the WHEEL?” I ask in disbelief. “What are you doing to make it feel like that??”

He chuckles, and I gasp as he puts another stripe of fire across my ass, right where the crop hit me.

“You said you wanted to try using it with the wand,” he says, in an oh-so-matter-of-fact voice.

Well, wait a minute. I mean, I’ve used that thing on myself, with the wand, and it NEVER felt like this. Before I can gather my thoughts enough to ask another question, though, he leans over and runs it up my ribs, across my breast, and over my nipple.

I jump, and give another horror-movie-worthy scream.

“Don’t move!” he orders sharply. “You’re going to get hurt if you move.”

Going to get hurt? GOING to get hurt? What do you call this, then??

“I don’t understand,” I wail. “It’s never felt like this before!”

No answer, he just keeps running it across my breasts and nipples, down my stomach, across my labia, back up again. Back to the legs, up my back, around the front again, over and over. I am yipping and kee-kee-kee-ing, running through my entire repertoire of “Fuck that hurts!” noises, and trying so hard to stay still.

He goes back to my nipples, lingering there for awhile. My poor nipples are never going to be the same, I think sadly to myself. Then around the back side, down to my anus, and–holy shit, if I thought my nipples were sensitive, they have nothing on my asshole. I struggle to stay still, scared of what those sharp, electrified spines will do to my ass if I move wrong.

“Don’t move,” he says again, and runs it up my labia from the back, up to my pubes, then back down the center line, and across my hard clit.

At this point I discover that I can scream much, much louder than I had ever thought possible.

And also that I can not keep myself still under this type of assault.

He pulls the wheel away. “I told you not to move!” he reproves me.

“Would you be able to stay still if I was running that thing across your balls and up your cock??” I demand, not really caring that I’m being obstreperous.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says calmly, “because I’m not the one that’s tied up.”

“You’re a sadist!” I screech. “I don’t care whether you like that term or not, you are an absolute SADIST!!”

And he chuckles. The bastard CHUCKLES.

I growl.

Then I feel his hand on me, stroking my clit, my pussy. I’m hot, and wet, and my clit is hard, and when he pushes his finger up into me and strokes my g-spot I forget to breathe. I push back against him, his hand so warm, his finger hitting just the right spot…and then it’s gone.

I whimper.

Then he’s in front of me, and I can smell him, his familiar, intoxicating scent. He grabs a hand-full of my hair and guides my mouth down to his cock. I pull him into my mouth, hear him groan, and groan back, loving the feel of him in my mouth, the taste, feeling him fuck me deep, into my throat.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth?”

“Mmph,” I say sadly. “What that a ‘no’?” he asks. I nod. “The correct response,” he says sternly, “is ‘if you wish.'”

“Mmph mmph mmph,” I say, which he correctly interprets as “If you wish.”

“Okay,” he says, and pulls away. I blink. Right, I don’t want him to come in my mouth, because I want him to fuck me—but that doesn’t mean I want him to stop now!

Then he’s behind me on the bed, his cock against me. He teases me for a moment, and then slams it home, to the hilt, smack against my cervix…And it is amazing. I’m surprised, every time, at how good it feels when he does this, but this is even better than usual, so good that I see fireworks behind my eyes.

I become aware that I’m making noises, that I’m saying…something…words! I’m saying words!

“God, Daddy, yes, please, so good…so good…Daddy, please, I love you, please!”

He fucks me until he comes, then collapses on my back. I snuffle…I haven’t come, and I really really want to.

“Don’t worry,” he says softly, “I’m not done with you yet.”

He releases my cuffs and pulls me to lay against him, spooning me, stroking my hair, murmuring to me. I shake in his arms, I always shake at some point during scenes, and he keeps talking to me, soothing me, making it okay.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks me quietly.

“You, Sir,” I answer.

“That’s right,” he affirms. “You are MINE. Do you know why you’re mine?”

“No, Sir.”

“You’re mine because I CHOSE you.”

Sometimes he says just exactly the right thing, and this is one of those times. I snuggle back against him, as close as I can get, and rub my face against the arm that’s cradling me.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

We talk for awhile, quietly, about the things that couples talk about in times like this, and after awhile, he says, “Now it’s your turn.”

He turns me onto my back, kisses me lightly, and starts stroking my breasts, rubbing and kneading them. As the good feelings start to spread from my nipples to my clit I spread my legs wide and reach down to touch myself. He keeps playing with me but he’s watching me, too. He likes watching me masturbate for him, and it excites me, and my arousal builds. I close my eyes, concentrating on the feelings we are wringing from my body, my left hand scrabbling at the blankets, needing something to hold onto…he puts it on his cock, which is hardening again. I open my eyes and see him watching me, and it’s so hot, watching him watch me as I play with myself—playing with His wench, His pussy, His cunt—and my arousal skyrockets.

I feel my orgasm building and he murmurs to me, words of encouragement, and then it’s there. Sensation pulses out from my clit to my entire body, my hips jerking in response, and I can feel it to my fingertips and my toes…he runs his fingers over my ribcage and I swear, it feels like I’m coming there too, my skin is so sensitized and responsive, and as it starts dying down I realize I don’t want to stop yet, so I don’t. I keep playing with myself, and he keeps murmuring to me, and the second one comes much quicker, it always does, not as strong but still good. And my body has a pattern—the first orgasm is strong, the second one weaker but still good, and the third one blows me away—longer, stronger, and better. So I go for number three, and he is tugging on my nipples, talking dirty to me, his little slut, his whore, am I going to come for him…I can feel it, it’s so close, I’m not quite there yet, and then he starts counting…


No no no, I shake my head, no, don’t put me on a time limit, it’s too much pressure, I can’t come that way!


No! I shake my head again, and manage to mumble, “No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Three.”

I feel it getting closer and I think I might actually get there in time….


“Oh god, oh god, yes, Daddy, yes…”


And I explode, I come apart, it feels like my clit is three times its normal size. I can feel it pulsing and I feel myself squirting while I come so hard, so so hard, and the fireworks again…

Eventually I remember where I am. I open my eyes and look at him, and I smile.

“Better?” he asks.

“Better,” I confirm, nodding happily.

He smiles. “Good,” he says. “Do you realize that you came on a countdown?”

I nod enthusiastically. “I’ve never been able to do that before!” I say.

“That’s right. But you did great tonight.”

I wiggle, happy that I pleased him.

“That was really hot,” I whisper shyly into his chest.

“Yeah, it was,” he says. He pulls me in against him, and I go to sleep in his arms—happy, exhausted, and satisfied.

His inner sadist can come out to play any time. Any time at all. 🙂

(I love you, Daddy)