I will give her these things.
I arrive at your door. It is after midnight. I let myself in and you meet me in the hallway wearing your pj’s. It is very late and I am very tired. But seeing you invigorates me. I take you in my arms. I hug you. I kiss you. I run my hands through your hair. I touch my spot, the spot on the back of your neck, the spot that makes you mine, time and time again. When he touches that spot, it annoys you – that he touches my spot. It annoys me as well.
We talk briefly – how was your trip, you must be tired, how are you, are you ok, how are you handling all this pressure, this conflict, this confusion. Of course, the conversation is too brief for that, for solving all the confusion in our relationship – the relationship we have made, inadvertently, unexpectedly, against our will even. That will have to wait. But it is a start. It is a moment when we begin to reconnect. A time when the confusion begins to lift, if only for a short time. A moment – when the rest of the world goes away and it is just pixie and Richard – “us” – that elusive thing that we have become.
We move to your bedroom and lock the door. I instruct you to undress, to make yourself naked before me. I can see from your eyes that I have been gone long enough that it is hard for you to display yourself to me. As much pleasure as must glow from my face at seeing you, you are still shy, and want to cover yourself. I will have none of that. I want to see my property – see that it has been properly taken care of. I make you lay on the bed, pull up your knees, spread them, so that I can take in all of you, open, vulnerable, mine to use for my pleasure. And of course your pleasure as well, for I am all about pleasure, aren’t I pixie? Even the pain, especially the pain – is for our pleasure. Not just mine, when I hurt you it is not just for me, it is for you too, it is for us, part of us, defines us, makes us what we are.
I take the long thick black rope – the one that is so thick it is soft – and tie one end around your ankle. I tell you to get on your hands and knees, elbows and knees, face to the bed and knees, the “position.” I loop the rope under your arm and back over the back of your neck, loosely, leaving some slack to take up later, then under your other arm and down to your other ankle, where I tie it again. I take the long loose end, after the knot around your ankle, and retrace my steps – under your arm, over the back of your neck, under your other arm, but here I change. I do not go back to your ankle. Instead the rope comes under your arm and across your back, through the two loose loops I have left there, through the slack, and around your chest. Now tightly, around and around your chest. So tight you can barely breath – certainly not a full breath. You feel short of breath and are almost hyperventilating. Still in the position. I take more rope and pull your arms down and tie them tightly to your ankles. Now you are mine. Now you are ready. Now I am going to take my pain and pour it into you, and let you do that magic thing – where you change it into pleasure, and give it back to me, always keeping some of it for yourself. You take my pain and convert it to our pleasure. What an amazing creature you are.
And so I find the cane. As always, I begin slowly – letting you get used to the feel of it, the burn of it across your ass and thighs. And let’s not forget your back. Yes, a few medium strokes across your shoulders, leaving red marks, hot to the touch. And back down over your ass, and thighs, and let’s make some marks on your calves as well. The ones that your co-workers talk about, wonder about.
Now more intense. The strokes are much harder, each one takes your breath away. When you think you can stand no more, I tell you to beg for another. Not just ask for it, beg for it. When it comes you think you cannot take another stroke. “Beg for another” I tell you. A full minute goes by until you get out the words “please Master, give me another.” I remind you to thank me for it before I send the supple wood swooshing down to the satisfying “crack” of cane on ass. A bright red welt appears. Tears are in your eyes. You need to be reminded again to thank me. And now, beg for another. Plead for it, as though your life depended on it, depended on your ability to endure one more stroke for me.
There is no hiding from it. They come again and again. I make you ask for each one, ask for more than you can endure, ask when you want nothing more than to have me stop, ask… for my pleasure. Oh, and yours of course. Did I forget? You are so wet it is running down your legs. Each time I touch you your body jerks in an effort to have an orgasm, each time I deny you the release. I want you to save it up, save it for me, give it to me when I call it up and one huge gush of juice and throbbing and bucking and moaning – calling “Richard, please….” Every so often I give your ass a rest and shove my cock into you. You are so tight, even with all that juice I sometimes have to push hard to get in, but when I do you moan and push back. You moan? And so do I. I moan with the pleasure of being inside you, at one with you. I moan at the thought that I have been gone so long and have missed this for so long. I moan at the thought that someday this memory is what I will have, knowing that as good as it is, the memory is nothing compared to the feeling of being in your wet cunt, ass red with marks from my cane, coming at the touch of my fingers on your clit.
I roll you over and prop your head up with pillows. I begin to fuck your mouth. No, no sucking – I am using you, fucking your mouth. It is not like sucking me. It is not like a blow-job. That is for high school boys. I am your Dom and Owner. I am fucking your mouth. Sometimes I pull out and let you lick my balls while I stroke myself. Finally I can wait no longer. I thrust into you hard, and give you two weeks of pent-up cum deep into your throat. I tell you to swallow it while I am as deep in your mouth as I can be, so that the feel of your throat as it constricts to swallow my cum, gives me additional pleasure.
After I untie you, we curl up together. We sleep. The last thing I hear you say is “I am so glad my Owner is home.” Tonight, pixie. By the time you read this, it will have happened.