Wednesday, 12 May 2010

You Know What I Want

You know what I want because I have whispered it to you. Whispered it to turn that first trickle of moisture between your legs into a flood. Whispered it to you when, in the final throes of ecstacy, I push you once and for all over the edge and you come, screaming, crying and clutching onto me.

You wear the leather harness, strapped tight under your crotch, over your shoulders and around your waist.

You wear the studded leather collar.

You wear the broad leather wrist and ankle cuffs.

You wear the O-ring leather head harness, buckled up tight.

You wear the nun’s headdress, your hair scraped back under it out of sight.

You sit quietly on the bed with your wrists in your lap, cuffed together and chained to your ankles, and watch while I slowly assemble the rest of the equipment.

The spreader bars, the flogger, the leather-covered paddle, the riding crop.

The pony’s tail butt plug.

You are hung up in the doorway by a heavy length of chain and softened up with a few sharp bites from the riding crop on your bottom. Then lash after lash with the flogger raining down over your shoulders until I judge you have had enough. I push myself onto you, thrusting my tongue into your mouth past the metal ring. I grab your crotch. Hard. It is hot, hairy and, despite your proteststions, very very wet.

You are let down from the doorway and led, by the chain on your collar, to the bed. You lie face down with your arms outstretched to either side. The length of chain is passed under the bed and attached to each wrist, as tight as it will go because I know you like to be stretched out. I know you have a secret, dark desire to be transported back to the middle ages and experience the agony of the rack, to be laid out on a rough wooden bench in a damp cellar whose bloodstained walls are lit only by guttering torches, the great drum ratcheting round relentlessly and mercilessly, the harsh ropes tearing into your wrists and ankles until every sinew is taut and burning and the laughter of your tormentors is ringing in your ears For now the chain will have to do; the rough, cold, heavy chain weighing you down.

Your ankles are held apart with the spreader bar, exposing your most intimate parts for all the world to see. You’ve been a naughty little novice nun and you need to be punished. You’ve been having impure thoughts and you need to be taught what impure thoughts can lead to.

The pony tail butt blug is pushed up inside you, stretching your rectum, because this naughty little nun likes it in the arse. She likes her arse filled with big fat cock. She also likes a good hard cock in her cunt but here your expectations soon turn to dismay as first two fingers, then three, four and finally the whole hand is thrust up inside that soaking wet hole and you realise that, having been stretched so wide open, you’ll be getting no cock in there.

The hand is withdrawn and there is more pain to come, from riding crop, flogger and paddle on your shoulders, buttocks and backs of legs. Then more fisting, and more whipping, and more fisting, and more whipping. You pray for the cock to be thrust into your arse, because the only other alternative now is your mouth, but the butt plug stays put. The cock is being kept clean for a purpose. The crushing inevitability hits you that when the whipping is over there will be one final humiliation.

At last, it will be time for the nun to fall to her knees in abject penitence. You are released from your chains and you kneel on the floor beside the bed. You know what to do next. You clasp your hands together in prayer and they are locked to each other at the wrists. You lift your face towards me as I stand before you, open your mouth wide behind that O-ring, ready to receive me, and I fill that receptacle with my semen. This you retain in your mouth for as long as I wish it and you then SLOWLY dribble my semen out over your breasts so that I can smear it into your skin.

If you comply with these strictures satisfactorily you will be rewarded by my reaching down to your crotch once again and bringing you to your orgasm, while I suck on your salty nipples.

Then I think we’ll both have deserved a stiff drink. G and T, heavy on the G, with a dash of lime for you, if I remember correctly?