It’d started out as a bit of a game. A few days before, Emily had let slip that she watched porn. A lot. It seemed so out of character her, when I’d found out, I had immediately started laughing. It wasn’t that I didn’t think she was sexual – far from it, in fact. It’s that I had always pictured her curled up and diddling away with some dog-eared book. Pornography seemed way too gauche for her. She’d turned red when I’d said as much.
“I like porn!” she protested, standing in my kitchen with her fists on her hips. It was her subconscious Stance of protest, and I had come to recognize it. Her browsers were furrowed behind her glasses, and her tiny little nose was scrunched up. Naturally, in that moment, she was about as intimidating as a sloth.
“Yeah, probably something artsy…”
“Absolutely not,” she interrupted. “Bleached blonde, fake tits, the works.”
“You have got to be shitting me,” I said, incredulous.
That’s how the two of spend the next day composingemails full of links intended for one another. We were collecting our favorite videos to share. She was intent on proving to me she was perverted like everyone else.
She was so not.
Later that night, looking at what she’d sent me from the safety of my apartment, I found myself staring at the screen of my laptop with my mouth hanging open like someone had just slapped me across the face as hard as possible. If what she watched when she masturbated was any indication, my Emily was in no way perverted like everyone else.
The first video she’d sent me was of a girl in a fantasy scenario, passed roughly between four contractors doing renovation work on her apartment. They stripped her in short fashion, as she eagerly fell to her knees between them, working her way around the circle with her mouth and hands. They gagged her on cock, laughed as her drool ran down her chin and her eyes watered, and commanded her suck harder or faster or both. They lifted her from the floor to a neary sofa and took turns on either end, standing two or three deep near her mouth while another fucked her hard from behind. At one point in the footage, one of the men pushed her head into the floor with his foot while slamming into her pussy, the other three “contractors” lined up behind him for their turn. They slapped her, choked her, and when they’d finished, they stroked themselves off on her face and tits, leaving her laying in a sweaty, sticky pool on the carpet.
I fell back against my sofa, exhaling slowly. Quite a few of the links included multiple men on one woman scenarios. Others were “free use” scenarios – a term used in the description of several of the videos, and one I had had to Google – with women being used for sexual gratification in a range of situations. There were extreme bondage videos. There were spanking and flogging videos, even girls getting striped by bull whips, their hands chained above their heads as they screamed with each crack of the leather against their pale skin. I watched a least a few minutes of most, just to get a sense. When I’d finished, I was left with a simple realization.
Emily probably wanted me to take it up… like… ten notches.
I got up from my couch, cock scanning against my pajamas after a steady hour of footage. The videos shocked me only in the sense that even after some BDSM with Emily, I didn’t associate her with these sorts of… inclinations. I guess my preconceived notions about the bookish girl on my team at work still lingered even after I’d shoved my cock in her ass or throat fucked her until she’d happily swallowed my load. My brain and my dick hadn’t yet scheduled a meeting to reconcile the two Emilys they knew.
As I walked into my kitchen, opening up my fridge to fetch a bottle of water, I decided it was time to rectify exactly that.
I walked back to the sofa, picking up my phone from where it rested on the coffee table next to my laptop, which was still playinga video of a girl getting double penetrated with her arms bound behind her back by thick rope.
“My house. Tomorrow. 5 PM. Bring appropriate clothing,” read the text I sent her way.
A short time later, she texted a response of, “Clothing appropriate for…?”
“Making me happy,” I replied.
“Yes, sir.”
The next day was Saturday, and I spent the better part of the morning Making mental plans and preparations for the evening. I stopped by a fetish shop in town and made a few purchases, dropped in at Target for a few more. I made it home with just enough time to shower and get dressed. Promptly, at five on the nose, I heard a soft knock on my door.
She stood in the hall wearing a tight red dress, holding an overnight bag. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her wavy hair, which she usually wore up, cascaded over her shoulders. The wings of her dark eyeliner were perfect, as was the matching shade of lipstick she wore, and as I took in the sight of her, I found myself surprised with her for the second time in as many days. Just when I thought I had her all figured out, she managed to drop new things in my lap.
“Can I come in?” she asked me, her lips turning slightly in a smile. I had been staring. I could imagine the look on my face as I stood there in my door, wordlessly, leaving her standing in my hall. Feeling heat rush into my cheeks, I stumbled backward and motioned inside.
She swayed as she walked. I had never seen her in heels so high. They made her hips swing widely, tipping my mind even further off balance. I had set my confidence before my hand touched the doorknob, and she’d gleefully smoked that tower of Jenga blocks with a few words, an amazing dress, and a short walk through my door. I drew a deep breath and held it, silently counting down from five, as she turned to face me.
“So, what…” she began, but I didn’t let her finish.
I bridged the distance between us, putting my finger to her lips to silence her. I felt the soft pressure of her mouth against my skin, and already my cock was stirring in my pants. She smelled amazing, like Chanel, which she only wore on certain evenings. The implication only aroused me further.
Slowly, I reached into my pocket, producing one of my purchases from earlier in the day. It was a black rubber ball fixed between two straps. I held it up, so Emily could see, and spoke as her eyes widened at the sight of the ball gag.
“Sluts earn the right to speak. Open your mouth.”
She did as she was told. Emily had a complicated relationship with the word “slut”. She had once confessed to me that she had ethical objects to being objectiveized and demeaned that were outweighted by just how hard that sort of language turned her on. As I gingerly lifted her hair to wrap the gag’s straps around the base of her skull, I looked her in her impossible pretty blue eyes. I held her gaze long enough wordlessly communicate with her what was to come. Therelease of the tension around her eyes, the slight slackening of her jaw against the jaw, led me to believe she understand and welcome it.
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I turned her to face away from me.
“Strip,” I spoke, softly, as I took a step back. “You haven’t earned the right to wear clothes in my presence.”
I could see her hands trembling as she lifted them to the zipper on her back. Slowly, she slip out of the garment, letting it fall to the floor. As I suspected, she wasn’t wearing a stitch beneath. She bent slightly and reached for her shoes.
“Stop,” I commanded. “Leave them on.”
She straightened, staring straight ahead. I stepped around her, face to face once again, letting my eyes wander across her body. I wanted her to see me looking her over, soaking in the sight of her naked body, taking special care to linger on her trimmed pussy and pink nipples. As if they could feel me looking, they stiffened. I indulged myself just a moment, stretchching out a single finger to brush across one, then the other. Emily moaned, disappoint as a whisper, behind her gag.
“Put your hands behind your back, slut. Let me see every inch.”
She did as I said, even shifting her Stance slightly by parting her feet. I felt a lump form in my throat at the sight of her this way, nine inch silettos the only clothes on her body and her red lips wrapped around the gag.
“Did you bring something to wear tonight, my pet?”
Emily nodded her stability.
“Sluts don’t get to wear clothes. Only good girls can wear clothes. Do you want to be a very good girl and put on the clothes you brought to wear for me?”
Again, she nodded, this time twice, more impressively.
“Step over there,” I said as I pointed. “Grab the wall and bend over.”
When she had moved to where I’d pointed, slowly beending at the waist, I let myself enjoy the view. I had her against the wall near a piece of furniture behind which I’d hid a surprise. Icould feel her eyes on me as I stood with my back to her. When I turned with the flogger in fist, I could see the shock on her face.
There had been a whole lot of bare-handed spankings in my apartment the couple months Emily and I had been dating. What could I say? I loved having as much of her surprisingly thick backside in my hands as I could get as often as I could get it. She’d never been spanked with an implementation, however. I reached out, wrapping her thick hair around my fist, using it to force her to look straight ahead at the wall. With my free hand, I balanced the flogger across the small of her back, between the nape and her ridiculously round ass cheats. Without letting go of my grip on her curls, I leaned in towards her ear and whispered.
“You know how much I love your ass. In a moment, I’m going to use this tool on it, because as pretty as it is, I think I would very much like to enjoy the sight of your cheeses with some color.”
I let my lips lower to her neck, placing gentle, brushing kisses behind her earlyobe. Her skin was hot, and her breathing was short and rapid. The blood was rushing through her body so quickly I could see her neck turn crimeson exactly where my lips had been moments before.
“Be a very good girl and let me enjoy the sight of your ass with some pink,” I continued, “and as a reward, I’ll let you slip into what you brought to wear for me this evening. You’ll earn the right to wear something other than your shoes, slut. But… before that…”
I reached my hand between her legs and gripped her pussy firmly against my palm. Just brushing it soaked my fingers, Emily immediately began to moan and squirm.
“Ah, careful now!” I exclaimed, keeping up the pressure against her lower lips. “We’re going to play a game. I’m going to play with your slutty pussy, and you’re going to keep that flogger balanced on your ass. Because if you don’t…”
I released my grip on her and stepped once more towards my secretstash behind the shelf. I grabbed her hair and pulled gently so as to show her me gripping a thick wooden paddle with hundreds of tiny holes drilled through.
“If you don’t keep that floated on your ass, if it hits the floor for whatever reason, you’ll get this instead. Instead of pretty pink lines, I get to enjoy dark purple polka dots.”
Emily let loose a tiny groan, Something between fear and pleasure. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind; my own was racing. I could feel my pulse pounding in my skull. My mouth was dry, and my hands were trembling. The range of emotions I was feeling were battering at the walls of my self-control. My aching cock was screaming at me to rip open my pants and bury myself in her dripping cunt. A darker side of me still anticipated what I had planned and started flooding me with even more ideas for future evenings, urged me to push Emily to her limits for my enjoyment.
I pulled from my pocket the tiny vibrator I’d purchased with the help of the girl at the BDSM boutique. She’d promised me that despite its small size, it was potential. She’d even let me hold it at the store, but as I switched it on with Emily dripping down her tights within arms reach, it felt so powerful it might just slip from my hand and shoot across the room. I smiled, took a breath, and then brushed it against her asshole.
Every muscle in Her body tensed, and I could see she had to physically fight the instantual urge to leap off the wall and investigate just what I’d pressed against her, briefly. I gave her no momentary pause, no chance to consider, as I slide the vibrator down and pressed it hard into her clip.
I thought she might bite through the gag. She immediately began to moan and scream, the muffled sound echoing through my apartment. I could see her drool running down her chin, spattering her tits. I reached around, and as I started working the vibrator against her in a circular fashion, I pinched her nipples, hard, first one and then the other.
I had learned the fun way that my pet came hard from the combination of pain and pleasure. I was counting on it. I released my grip on her tits just long enough to reach into my back pockets and retrieve two clothespins. I held the first as wide as it would allow, positioning her impossible stiff nipple between the wooden dowels, and then let it snap shut. Her moaning slide for a brief moment from ecstasy into age, repeating as I clipped her other breast. I pinched the clips, I slapped them, all the while rubbing her with the vibrator. The more malicious I became with her nipples, the more pressure and speed I used against her clips. I heard her squeals shift in pitch and go deeper in tone, low and long, the sure-fire sign I had come to learn that she was about to climax.
I pulled the vibrator from her pussy and held it in front of her face just long enough to see the brief confusion flash through her eyes before I snatched the floatgeroff her ass, stepped back, and swung it against her bare bottom as hard as I could.
I could hear her cry against the gag, and I leaned in to growl, “At no fucking point did I give you permission to cum.” Then, I struck her again.
I striped her. The first blow was meant to disorient her, but I softened the pace considerably with the following-ups. I warmed up her flesh, seeing the color go pink nearly all over. The sight of it was amazing. I couldn’t stop myself from pausing multiple times and running my hands over her chefs. They burned my palms like I’d lit them on fire. I could feel the skin raised in a few areas where the first hard swing had struck home.
She was gasping and practically weeping behind her gag, but even as each stroke of the float brought her up on her toes, she didn’t release her grip on the wall, and she kept her ass up and out for my use. I started to sense she was reaching her limits, so I increased the strength of the contact, watching as she started to sag. One last hard blow took her to her knees, and I dropped the flog.
I stood over her, letting her breathe. Slowly, I knelt, and then I released the straps on the gag. Immediately, her muffled gasps grew loud and full. I stroked her hair, then reached beneath her to gingerly free her nipples from the clothespins.
“That,” I said, “is a very good girl. Do you know what very good girls get?”
Wordlessly, Emily looked up at me from the floor, and then she shook her head.
“Go get dressed, little slut.”
I helped her to her feet, and she walked gingerly into the other room, picking up her bag along the way. I gathered myself. What seemed both a moment and an eternity later, she walked back into the room. She still wore the heels, only now her slender legs were hugged in black fishnet. She was bottomless and wearing a white tee shirt with red lettering reading “Daddy’s Girl”. I chuckled a little at seeing it.
“Forgot your panties or wanting to showme your pussy?” I teased.
“I brought panties, sir, but…”
“But?”
Her lower lip jutted out as she said, “My butt hurts too bad to wear them.”
I laughed, a deep belly laugh.
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