Welcome to another episode of Bedtime Stories with Salty Vixen. Tonight’s story is titled “What If”. Dear Sir, I am feeling cute and wrote this poem for you. The poem is titled “Fire Within”. Lonely nights, I lay awake, Imagining you beside me.
Your lips, Hot and wet, Pressed against my Heated flesh. Your hardness, So proud and strong, Resting alongside My smooth thigh. I can almost feel
Your work calloused hands Caressing my breasts. My stomach. My femininity. Oh, how I long for you. My passions aroused. My body aflame.
I fucking want you, Sir.
Please take care of me. Fuck me. Ravish me. Now. As my body belongs to you , Sir. Let’s begin..
Just imagining the possibilities is mind boggling. What I wouldn't give to have him manually pleasure me to an orgasm so intense that it took my breath away, only to punish me exquisitely because I had not been given permission to have one.
I think about that fantasy a lot.
His continually leaning close to my ear and whispering to me to keep riding the waves he's created with his tongue and his fingers, but that I am not allowed to just explode. I can actually feel his fingers sliding in and out as his tongue circles my clit. Just picturing it now sends chills down my spine.
He knows I can't hold back no matter how hard I try—but that is what he receives his pleasure from; knowing in only a few moments he will have control of all of me—mind, body and soul. He also knows that I want to be punished, not so much for the imagined offense but the tremendous gratification I derive from his delicious tortures.
And as my juices pour out onto his hand, wetting his lips as it flows, he restrains me, forcing me to lie still as he strokes me with his tongue until my body stops shaking. Once forbidden pleasures have been taken to their limits, he reminds me of the "rule" that has been broken—preparing me for whatever he feels is fitful punishment for my lapse in self-control.
My favorite is candle wax and clamps. The combination of the intense heat and the delicate bite of metal teeth into tender flesh will nearly make me cum from the thought alone. He knows this is as well but saves it for agreed upon occasions when things are fabricated merely because we are in the mood to share the experience. But—this will be his punishment—one derived from his own wicked fervor and most likely to send me screaming over the edge again.
Placing my hands together, he binds my wrists tightly leaving a small length of cord to tie to the center post of the headboard. He usually has me lie on my back but this time he's removed the pillows from the top of the bed and I lie face down against the cool sheet. After they are secure, the blindfold comes next. It is difficult to explain how it feels when I lose my sense of sight. Just knowing that I can not see what is coming next makes my clit begin throbbing.
He leans close to my ear again, blowing warm breath into it, and then whispers that I must lie very still and quiet. The tone of his voice alone hardens my nipples and sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not been long but I can already feel the next one building.
Moving from the bed, he leaves me alone—naked and exposed. I can hear the door shut but I'm never quite sure if he's actually gone or if he's just sitting down in his office chair watching me. So, I lay there—listening and waiting, wondering when he will return to me. It seems like forever before I hear the scrape of the door across the carpet.
The first sensation I feel is the tendrils of a small black whip that he favors. They begin their journey at my bound wrists and move lightly down my arms to my shoulders. He says not a word as he continues to trail the long, thin strips of leather down my back, across the cheeks of my behind. Then, nudging slightly with the handle, I automatically spread my legs, sucking my breath in as he runs them back and forth across my sensitive mound.
I know I’m supposed to be silent but the vibration each stroke sends through me is more than I can bear and before I can stop it, a moan escapes my lips. I can picture him smiling as I finally quell the sound in my throat. Now my punishment will increase two-fold and he will take great pleasure in drawing it out for as long as he can. He doesn’t repeat his request for silence; he knows that I am well aware of what he expects of me. Biting my lip, the soft tendrils disappear from my skin and the leather covered wooden handle replaces it. It is the signal that the first blow will be coming soon and my body tenses instinctively.
The handle travels the same journey as it’s softer end has done, stopping just short of the vee of my thighs hesitating for a split second before it disappears completely only to reappear a moment later, striking my swollen lips with a resounding slap.
The sting is sudden and profound, the pain lingering as he kisses the thin red welt tenderly. My lip is sore from biting down so hard, but from the wetness forming on my pussy lips, the pain is welcome, even more so than the soft caress of his tongue.
Spreading my legs wider, he raises my hips and slides a pillow under my belly exposing me fully to him now. The handle snakes down the center of my back, and then I no longer feel it. Tensing again, I wait for the next, appearing only a split second after the thought, as it lands a fraction of an inch away from the first. It leaves again and is replaced by his warm breath and gentle tongue tracing it tenderly, the sting still fierce but my clit throbs sharply with each strike of the handle.
By the time he has finished his game of hard and soft, my pussy is screaming for relief, I know this is only the beginning. Pulling my hips upward, my weight now rests on my knees and he’s counting the fine lines. Running his tongue along each, he announces they number twenty. I consider myself very lucky because there are usually more.
Pushing one finger at a time through my wet slit, he moves his fingers in and out quickly, slowing each time I tighten around them trying to draw him in deeper. Leaning close to me again he releases the cord that holds my wrists tight and commands me to lean against him. I comply quickly his cock rubbing against my thigh now soaking wet from his playing.
As I gain my balance, he enters me from behind pulling me up and pressing me back against his chest as he continues to ride me hard and steady. Pulling my thighs further apart, he wets his fingers with his tongue rubbing my clit lightly.
Through it all the only sound that gives away the intensity of our passion for one another is our breathing, low and shallow. Whispering huskily in my ear, he commands me to tell him as soon as I’m cumming and I quickly nod as he slides his hands to my hips rocking harder.
Just as it hits me, I cry out only to feel the slap of the leather paddle against my throbbing clit, each strike in rhythm with our movements. Even though unexpected my orgasm doesn’t stop, it only heightens it. Without realizing it, I beg him to strike harder, even as the after glow sets in.
The paddle drops to the bed and his own orgasm hits him, a hoarse moan filling my ears and the heat of his passion filling me. As his hips slow down, he pushes us forward onto the bed, turning on his side, still buried inside me. I nuzzle the back of my head against his chest, smiling as his breathing quiets and he drifts off to sleep.
I still cannot see nor are my hands free, but for one night my spirit is unbound.
