[opheliathemuse]

plaidmoosetoes, from my experience, you only have to believe the person. Are they naturally a dominant person? A submissive? If you have a sub domming, it will seem off, of course. If you are naturally a dom, then it will feel strange to sub. For example, I only really like a few generalized roles, and not talking during coitus. It makes it more believable for me. It takes practice. If he can carry off verbal play, then fine.
It's all what feels right to you. Don't be afraid of your own fantasies, is what I suppose I'm saying. That way you can access what makes you feel good more quickly and build on it. Maybe you're expecting too much of yourself. Start smaller? Just with a spanking, or a bite?

[tesao]

It was his mother's bed. Let's start with that. Sure, we've made love in many bizarre places before, from the board room at his office to the leather table at the salon where I get biweekly massages. But this was his mother's bed, and it was in her bedroom, and she wasn't that far away. For my comfort, she would have had to be in Guam, or at the very least out at her country club. In reality, she was downstairs on her patio drinking mimosas with her friends, the tinkling sound of her laughter coming through the open window.

Daniel said, "Just close your eyes, and block out everything else."

How could I? Not only was his mother within hearing range, but her 200 guests, invited to a sumptuous garden party, were drunkenly milling around the mansion, exploring. And now her youngest son wanted to take me in the middle of the afternoon, in her bedroom, on her expensive white satin sheets.

"Someone will hear us," I hissed.

"Not unless you scream," Daniel assured me. He's never one for false words of comfort. "Now, close your eyes, baby, and keep them closed." This time, because of his tone of voice, I obeyed. "Hands over your head," he told me next. I did that, too, and felt the familiar bite of cold metal on my skin as he slid a set of handcuffs around my wrists. Like an American Express card, Daniel rarely leaves home without them. He kissed me, and with my lips still parted, he slipped his tie into my mouth and tied it behind my head. "That should help ease your worries."

I was done for, and I knew it. Gagging me meant that he thought I wouldn't be able to remain quiet on my own.

"Aren't you the slightest bit turned on, Rebecca?" he asked, sounding coy since I obviously couldn't respond. "Aren't you a little bit excited?" The weight on the bed shifted as he stood up. I guessed that he was undressing, and I tensed, listening -- first for his mother, and then as I heard him unbuckle his belt and the hiss-soft sound of the leather as he pulled it through the loops. What had I gotten myself into?

"Not answering, Becca?" he asked, teasing. "Then I'll have to find out for myself." He lifted my floral silk party dress, slid my lacy panties aside, and felt the wetness between my legs.

He sighed. "I know my baby, don't I? Now roll over."

This was easier said than done, but I maneuvered myself on the pillows and thickly feathered duvet until I was face down, my wrists slightly twisted in the handcuff chains.

"You might want to put your face in the pillow, sweetheart, 'cause this is going to hurt."

I made some sort of desperate, mewing sound against the gag, and he responded as if he understood, as if he could decode the worried sound of my words, blurred even as they were against the silken gag.

"It has to hurt, Becca. You know that, baby. It always has to hurt."

Lowering my head, I reminded myself that I could have avoided the whole mess. Daniel always gives me choices. He'd told me not to wear panties, I'd ignored him, and this was the punishment to fit the crime. If I'd followed his instructions in the first place, he would undoubtedly have chosen a less frightening place to make love -- somewhere out in the gargantuan backyard, hidden by a miniature palm tree or lost among the honeysuckle vines. Now, not only were we in his mother's boudoir; he was going to exact his punishment on me with his belt.

"Ten," he said, and I swallowed hard. "Ten here. We'll take care of the rest later."

I wasn't worried about that. In the privacy of our apartment, I can withstand almost anything. Daniel knows this, and because of this fact he rarely lets me get away with being disciplined at home. I didn't have much time to contemplate the future, however, because he was off, striking the first blow with the belt on my naked ass and then lining up the second and third before the first sparks of pain had even properly registered.

As I drew in a gasp, he climbed onto the bed and plunged inside me. His cock sought out the wetness he'd already found with his probing fingers, and it told him everything he needed to know. That despite my protests and attempts to talk him out of the humiliating games he plays with me, I live for them as much as he does.

He struck the fourth and fifth blows while he was fucking me, pulling back to catch the lowest, roundest part of my ass, and then driving his cock between my thighs, so that the pain was lost against the pleasure of the ride.

"Told you how to dress today, baby. Should have listened to me."

But then, of course, I wouldn't be getting this. The feel of his throbbing cock inside me, perfectly balanced with the pain from the belt.

"When I'm done," he said, coming close to me now that he was whispering, his breath hot against my skin. "When I'm done thrashing you, I'm going to fuck your ass."

My lips started forming begging sounds and I pulled on the chains on my wrists, as if that could possibly help me. The metal made music against the brass railing of the headboard.

"Quiet, baby," he said, "you're the one making all the noise, and I thought you didn't want to be caught."

I tried to obey, hoping that if I were really good for the remainder of the session he might ease up, forget the rest until later. How could he fuck my ass now? When I had to go down and have dinner with his mother and a few hundred of her closest friends. When he knew it would make me cry.

He blocked my worries by continuing with the discipline, pulling my long hair so that I arched my back, and then slapping my ass in an almost friendly way with the belt. Heating me up with it. I felt the wetness in my cunt spread out to my thighs, and he took advantage of the slippery juices, diving back in me, driving back in me, and then placing the head of his cock on my asshole.

I tensed, and he sensed it, not entering me, but moving away, standing by the bed to finish the job. The belt licked at my skin, and I could picture the blows in my head, the neatness of them, overlapping lines that would be purplish later if I looked at them in the mirror.

He gave me more than ten. He always does. Naming the reasons. How I didn't hold still, didn't behave correctly, didn't accept my punishment like a well-chastised girl should. I never get it right. It's why he loves me.

And then, because he'd told me he would, because he never lies, he climbed back onto the bed and took me, sliding his cock between the cheeks of my ass and then pushing forward, making me grit my teeth, making me grip into the cold metal of the headboard, wrap my fingers around the curlicues of brass, trying to gain some sense of stability when everything in my world was swirling around in weightlessness.

Daniel found a rhythm that went dark and velvety in my head, taking me to faraway places with his cock, with the heat that was still in my skin, with the shame that colored my face and made me shut my eyes together even more tightly.

He whispered things to me while he fucked me, told me how pretty I looked captured to the bed. Captured so simply and purely to his mother's bed. The whole fantasy was mixed up, messed up, twisted and dirty, and it made me come, as he must have known it would. Made me come in a series of rapid bucking movements that almost drove him out of me. He held on, though; he's a fighter. He kept on going until it was his turn, until he gripped my arms, bit my shoulder hard through the silky fabric of my dress, and hissed, "Dirty girl. Such a dirty girl. Coming in my mother's bed."

Daniel cradled me afterward, brushed my hair out of my eyes, slid the cuffs off and rubbed the skin on my wrists. He kissed my blushing cheeks and my forehead and the tip of my nose and then whispered to me of how long he'd planned it, how much thought had gone into this tryst. How I couldn't have avoided it if I'd wanted to.

I never can. It's why I love him.




Alison Tyler