I couldn’t help myself, even knowing the likely consequences. TSH sat in the study, browsing the internet and I somehow managed to creep up on him, making him jump a MILE. It was hilarious. And whilst I was still laughing, I somehow ended up face down on the bed, being spanked.
He propelled me so fast that I had no time to think. And I knew I really was in trouble when he said “don’t move,” as he went to find the restraints and various other implements. I took off my clothes when he told me, leaving just my knickers on in the vain hope they’d protect my arse. Yeah… there was certainly an element of worry.
TSH fastened my wrists to the headboard, making sure they were spread out and that I couldn’t escape. When satisfied, he arranged my torso over the bean bag. I couldn’t move forward or back and just had to wait for him to have his fun.
There was the cane, the paddle and a lot of hand-spanking. All deliciously painful and in this case, fully deserved. And he rotated round, taking my head further and further towards a dream-like state. When he flogged my back, I subbed-out, letting the endorphins flood through me and totally letting go. I relaxed over the bean bag, the blows of the flogger landing on my shoulder blades, hurting so good, like deep, deep massage.
He flogged me for longer than he usually does, realising that my head was in a good place but then went back to the paddle and cane. I rose out of my headspace, beckoned by the sharp stings that landed on the curve of my bottom.
It was then that TSH shocked me. He reached round my leg and without warning, ripped through my knickers until just the elastic remained round my waist, the rest of the fabric hanging, the gusset torn in two. The air hit my cunt, just for a second. And then he thrust inside me, knowing how wet I’d be from all the impact and pain. He used the remaining attached material as leverage, pulling it back against my hips before pushing deep into me, forcing me forwards into the beanbag. He used me, pushing and pulling my body until he came.
When he’d had enough, he unfastened me and laid me face up on the bed, re-attaching my wrists to the bed. He used one hand against my throat or pushing down on my chest, the other hand held the wand. He’s become entirely too proficient at using it against me. Tiny ten-second bursts that made me writhe. Never quite the same duration, making it impossible for me to predict. And he moved it round and over my clit, making sure I always wanted more, never over-sensitising me as has happened in the past.
When I moaned, he pushed his fingers into my mouth, holding me in place. And continued to buzz. Stop. Buzz. Stop. Buzz… I pushed my hips up, furiously reaching for the pressure of the wand. But it was no good. TSH was entirely in control. In the end he took pity on me, removing his fingers from my mouth I begged him not to switch it off, to leave it where it was and let me come and he did. Massive waves of orgasm crashed through me and I slumped back exhausted from the pleasure and the pain and the edging.
I did promise him that I’d never make him jump again and I do stick to my promises. I’ll just have to find a different way to get myself into trouble…
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