Sweet Pain

It had been a long hot shower. He finally emerged and reached for his towel. As he dried himself he carefully stretched his weary limbs. He was bone tired. He smiled at the thought.

After lathering his face, he stropped his open razor and began to absent mindedly shave, his thoughts drifting back to last night……..

Was it really only 12 hrs ago he had stepped out of the shower only to find her there waiting for him? He tried to figure what had surprised him most, her presence or the scene which met his emergence from the wet room. There she was waiting on her knees, naked, head bowed and arms outstretched holding a flogger and his wand.  She had a habit of surprising him. His pretentious brat as he called her!

He reached down and took the wand from her before casting it aside. “Won’t be needed that” he whispered. A barely discernible look flashed over her face but since he knew how much ignoring her reactions frustrated her, he decided to do just that. If she wanted to play games then they were played by his rules.

He picked up the flogger from her hands. It wasn’t one of his. It was new, pristine. He smiled inwardly. She had bought him, well them both, a gift. It felt heavier than his usual ones but suited him perfectly, like it belonged there. He swished it through the air as he walked around her, watching her reactions. She never flinched. The only discernible reaction was a slight flicker of a smile on her full lips.

Bending down he placed his finger under her chin and raised her head. He looked into her eyes and kissed her softly. He grinned a smug grin as he felt her body momentarily soften.

“Assume the position” he said quietly. She rose to her feet and walked to the bed before laying herself across it, legs dangling over the edge. He watched closely, admiringly, as he always did many times before. It was a sight he never tired of. Her large breasts and womanly curves lying on his bed, her rounded perfect backside in the air. So pristine, so vulnerable. Like a blank canvass ready to be painted with some dark but magical image.

He waited again and watched her. He knew she would be getting impatient. So damn impatient! He stifled a laugh as she ever so subtly wiggled her ass. Yup, the anticipation was starting to get to her! She could wait just a little bit longer he thought to himself. It would do her good to learn patience.

After what seemed like an eternity, probably to both of them, he brought the flogger swiftly down on her buttocks, but with well practised skill checked the blow at the last minute. He was rewarded with a satisfying yelp of surprise from her. He brought the flogger down again, this time not checking it’s force. She groaned but remained impassive. He watched with his customary smugness at the first red marks left by the many tails appeared on her cheeks.

He licked his lips as he began to build a steady rhythm. Subtle moans escaping from her lips each time the tails kissed her buttocks. The tangled web of thin red lines stretched across that perfect backside growing redder and more vivid with every stroke. He admired the way she absorbed and revelled in each and every stroke. She was in her own little world of ecstasy and he was very pleased to take her there.

Her whole body was almost writhing now. At once he changed direction and swung the flogger gently underhand and straight between her parted thighs. His well practised aim was true and the tails glanced her swollen lips. Instantly she squealed and her body juddered violently. “Good girl” he growled through gritted teeth as he repeated the action over and over again. She was completely lost now. Her body convulsing, her legs now struggling to work.

He threw aside the flogger and pulled off his towel. There was a time for gently prolonged love making…….this however was not that time! They were both driven at this moment by primal lust. Grabbing a fistful of her long dark hair he yanked her head backwards and pushed himself deep inside her still orgasming pussy. She screamed again as he began fucking her. No soft tender moments, just hard and fast, exactly what they both craved more than anything at that moment. His teeth instinctively sinking into her shoulder as their pace increased. The sheer energy between their bodies had them both ready to explode. As her body shuddered to another intense violent orgasm, his body could hold no longer.

He collapsed on top of her. Both grinning inainly. He rolled off her and admired the vivid criss cross of marks on her ass. Reaching onto the bedside table he grabbed a tube of aloe vera and massaged her tender derrière. They were gonna both be sore in the morning! Damn but she was a pretentious brat……..

“Fuck”!!! he yelled, suddenly coming back to reality with a blood soaked bump as his razor nicked his cheek.


Fear of the Dark

“Say the fucking safe word” he roared as the crop in his hand rose and fell upon the two prostate figures at his feet with increasing ferocity. He screamed it over and over but with no response. The loud thumping industrial music in the background only served to increase the anger he was feeling. He had lost all control for the first time in his life. As his anger rose further, he walked in front of them and ordered them both to raise their heads and look at him. As they did in unison, his world seemed to dissolve around him. He knew these faces. Not the willing subs he expected but the faces of the two people he cared for more than anything in the world…………

He yelled as he came to. His body bathed in sweat and his limbs still fighting frantically with the duvet that imprisoned him. It had happened again. That nightmare that had been stalking his limited sleep for so long now.

He forced himself out of bed and stumbled, his legs feeling remarkably shaky, towards the bathroom and switched on the light. Light was what he craved at that moment. Something to try and balance the darkness that was enveloping his subconscious mind.

Turning on the tap and splashing cold water on his face, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was the only one in the whole house and he was glad.

He hated looking in the mirror these days. Every time he did he didn’t recognise the reflection staring back at him. A stranger, he often thought, and an old stranger at that. The eyes, once so bright and blue and full of happiness had gone. They were somehow darker, less full of life, less full of wonder. The lines on his rugged, well lived in face were deeper, more pronounced. His instinct was to punch the mirror but what would that achieve? A trip to hospital and seven years bad luck, just what he needed he thought to himself.

He stood still on the cold bathroom tiles and closed his eyes. Partly to block out the strangers reflection, partly to try and get himself under control. Yes control, that’s what it was all about.

There was no doubt about it, he was a mess. His inner demons, so long in perfect equilibrium with each other, were now waging an unholy war inside his mind and he had a horrible feeling they didn’t give a damn about the collateral damage they caused. They sure knew how to do a fine job of fucking with his mind! Snap out of it and stop being so damn melodramatic he thought to himself smiling.

He walked downstairs and opened the cupboard. Pouring himself a very large glass of Glenmorangie he sat down in his armchair. “When the going gets tough, the tough get drunk” he mumbled, raising his glass in an ironic toast to himself. He felt himself relax as the liquid slipped down his throat and hit his bloodstream. He wasn’t used to the amount of soul searching he’d been doing recently. The humble character he came across as to most people was to soften the self confidence and certainty he felt most of the time. “Never mistake my humility for lack of confidence, never mistake my kindness for weakness” had long been his mantra.

Closing his eyes once more he forced himself to go over his recurring nightmare. It bothered him on so many levels. He knew fine well he was doing what he always did and over thinking but the whole scene bothered him so much that he simply couldn’t help it.

There was nothing safe, sane or consensual about the dream. The darkness troubled him deeply. He took another deep swig of his whisky. Was it the darkness of the scene that bothered him most? Was it the complete disregard he had felt in it? Was it the level of anger he’d shown? It just wasn’t him. He racked his brain to think of the last time he’d been really angry with someone other than himself. His mind drew a blank. He shook himself violently.

No, it was the lack of control he had experienced. His world was all about control, especially of himself.

Worse though were the faces he saw every time he ordered the two bound prone women to look at him. Why them? The two people in the world he was least likely to be violent towards. Yes that was it. He knew how irrational it was, but he was somehow overcome with guilt. Maybe he needed a safeword for himself! So many emotions for a bloody dream he thought to himself.

Draining his glass, his body seemed to relax right on cue. Sleep finally overtook him.

He became aware once more of the thumping beat of loud industrial music………