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I turn back to face her. “You said you liked everything I did?”
She nods.
“Well, you’re in luck. I sent Marshall to pick up a few things. We’ll see just how much you liked it all.”
I walk over to where I left the suitcase, which I open to reveal some BDSM essentials: a flogger, wand, nipple and clit camps, ball gag, Ben Wa balls, dildo and lube.
“Remember all this fun stuff?”
She looks at them thoughtfully before nodding. “You introduced me to a lot, Darren.”
For some reason, I don’t like her speaking my name. She doesn’t have the right to use my name.
Seeing my grim look and raised brows, she corrects herself. “Sir.”
Picking up the hood she wore before, I put it back over her head. The deprivation of sight will keep her guessing in addition to enhancing her sense of touch.
I unwrap the bonds around her legs, then grab her by the arm and drag her over to the table. It’s heavy and sturdy. I disengage the rope around her wrists from the crotch rope, pull her upper body over the table, and secure the end of the rope binding her wrists to a leg of the table. Her ass is positioned just off the table’s edge. Next, I bind her ankles to opposite legs of the table before undoing the crotch rope.
I slip my hand between her thighs. She’s still wet there, though probably somewhat sore or numb from the crotch rope. I give her rump a smack before returning to the suitcase. After selecting the ball gag, I walk over to the head of the table, pull her chin down and push the ball into her mouth. The fabric of the hood is trapped between her tongue and the ball, which will probably dry out her mouth. But why should I care about her comfort?
I go for the duotone Ben Wa balls, hollow with weights inside, and watch her body jump as I slide them along her slit and tease her clit before inserting them into her pussy. I spank her several times to get the balls to move. She groans. When I rub her between the legs, she moans even deeper. She’s aroused. I can sense it.
From the suitcase, I get the flogger. Her body tenses, probably because she can hear me approaching. Unfurling the tails, I lash it across her ass. She grunts. I backhand the next strike, whipping the tips to her flesh for more sting. Bridget usually tolerates the flogger pretty easily, and I wish I had a paddle or cane instead, but the blows are enough to jar the balls inside of her. After several lashes, I check between her legs to find her wetness running down her inner thigh.
“Guess you’re liking this,” I remark.
My cock is hard again. I set the flogger back in the case and shed my pants. I can see the alertness in her body, wondering what’s coming next. I push my cock at her pussy and sink into its delicious heat. This feels amazing. More amazing than I remember.
I start off with a few long, drawn strokes, relishing the sound of her muffled groans, before slamming into her. Each shove causes the table to move, so I grab her hips to keep her still, a wet, hot target for me to spear over and over.
I pull out and try out her other hole next. After slowly sinking balls deep into her ass, I start to thrust.
“Liking this, too, Bridge?” I ask, spanking her with my pelvis as I piston in and out.
I fuck harder. She attempts to speak, but her words are incoherent beneath the hood and ball gag. It just sounds like whining and mumbling. And then screaming as her body trembles violently against the table. I feel her rectum spasm around my cock.
“You did not just come without my permission,” I say.
My ardor is raging now. I pound myself into her. Her cries are no longer related to her orgasm, but I’m almost there. With blinding fury, my climax rings through me like a gong. My entire body tenses as I buck into her, unloading into her sweet, sweet ass. I allow myself to remain inside of her, her ass feeling tighter with every throb, until the hardness dissipates along with the quaking of my body.
I pull out of her and note some of my cum oozing down her crack. I walk over to the other side of the table to undo the end of the rope anchored to the leg. She doesn’t move. Removing the hood and ball gag, I lift her jaw to meet her gaze and see that her eyes are glistening.
I don’t like the conflict of emotions in me right now. I don’t want to be feeling anything but righteous anger toward her. To support that, I ask, “What’s the matter? I fuck you too hard, Bridge?”
Still breathing on the heavy side, she doesn’t answer.
I replace the ball gag into the case, along with the hood. Standing behind her, I yank her up by her hair.
“You know you came without permission,” I growl. “That means we’ll have to add weights to the nipples clamps.”
She looks nervous but doesn’t protest.
“You think your nipples would be up for that?” I inquire as I run a finger over a nipple through her dress. She looks fuller than she did two years ago, especially in the chest. Her breasts look large on her, almost as if she got implants.
“You get augmentation surgery, Bridge?” I ask, reaching to grope a breast.
She shrugs away from me and looks down. “No. I just…put on some weight.”
