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“I’m going to have you bending over, and the ropes may tighten, so I need you to tell me if you feel any pain or numbness.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Good boy,” she replies, licking a line across my cheek that makes my dick twitch where it hangs between my thighs. “Now kneel.”
I do as she says while she continues binding the rope across my torso in intricate knots. Every little touch of her fingers on my skin takes me to a place where I feel calm and at peace. The more she tightens the rope, the further I fall into my euphoria.
It’s never been so easy with another person before. And sometimes I worry that I’m being lazy with her. I’m used to being the one in charge, the protector, the leader, the dominant. But with her, I do what she tells me to and eat up her praise. She’s so easy to please that I can’t get enough.
And then, if I’m really good, she rewards me with little nuggets of intimacy that feel more special than an orgasm or some words of affirmation. She lets me in. Now being in her life is the only reward I’m interested in.
I just want her.
She works in silence as she continues to tie me up, folding me until I’m bent over and bound. Soon I can’t move anything. I’m not sure of the point of this, except that it might be a test of discipline—a test I’ll pass. My fingers are numb now, and my shoulder is aching, but I can take it.
“You look beautiful like this,” she says, softly running her fingers down my curled spine. I don’t respond, but then again, I’ve never been called beautiful before. It feels foreign and strange.
Coming from her, I love it.
As her fingers reach the base of my spine, where I know I’m exposed in this position, I clench up. My eyes pop open, and my heart beats faster. I know I say I’m down for her to do whatever she wants to me, but some things are still too new for me.
“I’d love to fuck you like this,” she says, teasing her touch around my lower back and over the soft globes of my ass.
I force a laugh. “Fuck me?” I’m breaking the “yes, Madame, no, Madame” rule right now, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Only if that’s something you’d be interested in trying.”
“Is that what you want?” I ask, and her touch stops.
“Yes, I would.”
“Why?” I ask with genuine curiosity. What the hell is in it for her?
“You fuck me all the time. Any act of penetration requires a certain level of trust. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Not to mention, I get off on the idea of making you feel good. And I think you would feel really, really good.”
My cock twitches again. I try to imagine it, feeling her take control like that, fucking me like the roles are reversed, but I still can’t quite picture it.
“Well, if you’re fucking me, then who’s fucking you?” I ask. My voice is low and level. With my face pressed against the top of my knees, I have to relax into the binds instead of fighting against them.
“That’s the point, pet,” she whispers in my ear. “I think about fucking you all the time. I think you’d be such a good boy for me, and I think you’d come so hard you’d beg me to do it again.”
I let out a groan as my cock hardens to the point of pain. There isn’t much room for it, but the more I shift, the more friction it gets. “Yes, please, Madame,” I say with a moan.
“You want me to fuck you, pet?” she asks in a sultry, teasing tone.
I smile against my thigh. “Yes, Madame.”
“Then say it.”
“I want you to fuck me, Madame,” I say with a gentle rasp in my voice.
She lets out a sweet little laugh. Then I feel her lips against my back. Her fingers rake through my hair and down my spine. Her touch is loving, and it distracts me from the now sharp pain shooting up my arm.
“You’re so perfect,” she says, this time with more sincerity than the dirty talk. When she says things like this to me, I believe it. “So perfect and all mine.”
