Succumb

“Come upstairs. I wanna show you,” his voice trails away as he walks to the stairs. He’s been waiting for me. 

His back is to me as he calls down the stairs, already ascending the steep, creaking, wooden steps to our bedroom. 

“But it’s not until tomorrow,” I call, a teasing protest. No need for him to respond, as he can tell I’m already following. A sliver of insecurity gives me pause as I follow, aware that I’m still in my tight, black yoga pants and tank, dampened from the gym. 

My curiosity overpowers my hesitation, and I know he wouldn't care. He’s never been slowed down by anything when it comes to getting at me. He's always all in.

I walk slowly, letting him get ahead, giving myself a moment to wonder what I might find. He’d mentioned a special surprise. 

“Get on the bed.” It wasn’t a demand, but rather a knowing request. Our eyes share a devious smile when they meet. 

“But it’s not until tomorrow,” I repeat, knowing full well that I would get on that bed, with a wanting to surrender control in all ways, but one in particular. 

I saunter slowly, each step intentional as my hips sway to the foot of the bed. Lifting one leg and leaning heavily forward, I crawl into the middle, giving him a view of my ass as I work my way to the middle. I turn around, sitting criss-cross and innocent with my hands in my lap, expectant, pretending I have no idea what was coming next, but I have an inkling

“I just want to show you a little today, we’ll wait until tomorrow. Lie down, close your eyes.” I stare right into his eyes as I slowly uncross my legs and lean back into the soft, blue down blanket. He’s already moved the pillows to the middle of the bed, to show me where he wants me, and this tiny attention to detail gives me a little thrill. He’d been thinking about this, waiting for me, picturing how it should be.  

“Close your eyes,” he repeats and I acquiesce. His stillness breaks, and I hear the swish of the comforter as his legs brush by, moving to the left side of the bed. The nightstand drawer whispers as he slides it open. He sits beside me and I feel something silky covering my eyes.

His hands push my top up, not off, just enough to expose my stomach, my breasts. Both hands reach alongside my hips, fingers gripping my stretchy pants and panties together, tugging them down hard.

His hands move back up my body as he grabs my wrists, gently pulling each above my head. I scooch down lower so my arms are fully stretched. I feel him reach below the pillow for something.

One hand holds down my wrist, while the other wraps it tightly in a strap. With both wrists above my head, he traces his fingertips down my exposed skin, grabbing an ankle at a time, strapping those as well. He spreads my legs to either corner of the bed. This part I hadn’t expected, but I love it. Any shyness quickly melts to arousal. I tug on the straps gently, testing them. I want to be truly restrained. 

Without sight or mobility, my other senses are heightened. I can hear his small movements, feel the air on my hard nipples, the softness below me, and imagine how hard he is while looking at my vulnerable body. 

A tickling sensation runs down my side, starting at the top of my left breast, over my nipples, past my rib cage to my hips. It’s so soft and slow, I squirm as he grazes below my belly button, between my legs. My breath grows quicker as my body responds, pushing upward as much as the straps allow. I want to immerse myself in this delicate touch—I wiggle toward it more before he lifts it away. 

Silence and darkness for a few brief moments, then a sharp snap. The sound of leather on skin, and the stinging it imparts, awakens me. He runs the small whip down my body again, gently, then pulls away. I wait this time with greater anticipation for the sweet sting. The tingles it sends through my body, and the cracking sound makes my knees pull inward, my back arching. He waits, silently, to watch my response. I lick my lips and settle my hips back down, an invitation to him. I want more. 

He begins again from the other side. Slow and soft at first, the tickles make me squirm and I picture him reveling in the pink marks he’s left. He lifts, then snaps again. I writhe with pleasure. I feel his body as he leans over me, kisses me deeply, biting my lower lip and pulling back. I hear him reach back in the drawer again. I embrace the suspense, the feeling of danger in our safe space.

Back on my left side, the top of my breast, there is a tickle down my bare skin, but it’s different than before. This new sensation reminds me of sharp fingernails gently tracing my body. I feel my skin prickle with goosebumps. He explores my exposed skin, and I pull away, pushing myself into the mattress when the sensation becomes too much. He likes that, watching me squirm, being in complete control. And I like that he likes it. 

At once, he’s on top of me. His chest presses into mine, his lips on mine, then my throat, my breasts. His hands dig into the sides of my hips as he pushes them up and kisses between my legs. And just as suddenly, he pulls away and stops. 

“There’s more tomorrow,” he says as I hear him climb off the bed. He pulls my blindfold off, and I turn my head to him, see how hard he is, and want him so much. He unleashes my wrists and ankles and starts to walk out the door as I pull my limbs out of the straps.

“You have to wait for tomorrow,” he says without even turning around, walking back down the stairs, leaving me to dress, and throb with want. 

The next day: Meaningless responsibilities for hours, then the final relief of being home.

I arrive minutes before him and undress, wrapping my naked body in a short, silk black robe with nude lace surrounding the wrists and thighs. I tie it tight around my waist just so I can feel him loosen it with one strong hand. I am ready to be ravished. 

I go to our bedroom, sit in the middle of the bed, pillows behind me, legs tucked up. I want his hands to wrap around my ankles and pull me down flat with one swift motion. 

I hear the front door open and shut. He’s home. My hands do a last-minute smoothing over my hair and adjust my robe. He pushes the door open, and I see his frame fill the entrance to our room as he pauses there. Our eyes meet again, but the playfulness is gone, replaced by hunger. 

“I’m ready,” I say, before he can speak. Without a word he moves towards me, reaching the bedside in three quick strides. A slight shiver runs through me, down my stomach as he moves to the drawer. I’ve been aching all day for him, and the suspense makes me wet.  

He reaches into the nightstand as before, blindfolds and binds me, more quickly this time, more urgent, skilled.

Blindfolded, wrists and ankles bound, he finally reaches for the bow of my robe. He grips it in one fist, pulling me down roughly until I’m completely flat. He pulls one end of the bow, undoing it, then flipping it open. He leaves me exposed for a few moments, watching me silently, letting the anticipation build, before I hear him move again. 

Once again, I feel a gentle tickle up and down my sides, over my exposed chest and breasts. This time, he lingers down the center of me, to my pussy. He stays there, brushing up and down, teasing as I arch upwards. Then he stops. I moan in protest, and the whip comes down sharply in response.

He brings it down again on my stomach and breasts. Again and again, then stopping, leaving me pulsing. Biting my lip, I arch again, and he starts again, softly now from the top of my body down; it’s unbearably soft.

I squirm away when it tickles too much, and am met by a swift whip for my disobedience. I am so wet, I can feel dripping down my inner thighs.

Next are the nails again, though a bit harder this time. I can almost see the red marks left behind, red on pink. I want him to hurt me then, to fuck me so hard I scream. I want him deep inside me, so I spread my knees to show him how ready I am. Blindly, I grind my hips upward, needing him desperately. He still hasn’t even touched me with his hands. 

Time has slowed down, it feels like minutes pass before the mattress by my hip dips as his knee presses into it. I feel the movement of the bed as he positions himself between my legs. He keeps teasing though, bringing the fringes of the whip up and down my pussy, barely touching me. 

I spread my knees wider, hips up, needing him, desperate, I pull pointlessly on my wrist and ankle straps, ready to grab him, wanting to pull him into me. I imagine what I would do if he released me right then. I imagine grabbing his shoulders, pushing him down, stripping him, taking him in my mouth. I imagine the feeling of biting his shoulder, slapping his face, riding him to ecstasy. Even without sight, I can see it so clearly in my head. 

On the precipice of begging, I finally feel his lips and tongue trace below my belly button. He sucks at my skin, traveling lower, tracing with his tongue in small wavy lines, getting lower, then going back up again. Each time he goes a bit lower, just a centimeter, but never all the way down. In this moment, I hate him—and I love him more than I ever have. 

At long last I feel the wet of his tongue pressure on my clit as he gives gentle kisses, then pulls away. I writhe at him, seconds from coming, then he stops again, and pulls away. 

I continue reaching for him, as much as I can against the straps holding me down. I fantasize about binding and blindfolding him, bringing him to the brink and back, giving him a taste of this erotic torture. I’m thinking of this, when the next wave comes in the form of a soft vibration between my legs. A deep moan escapes my lips. He holds still, pushing in between my legs as I push up against it, dripping wet, moaning uncontrollably. He won’t let me get off that easily though. He pulls the vibrator away, and positions himself between my legs. Slowly, he rubs his cock up and down my clit, making us both wet. 

As I’m on the verge of climaxing, he finally enters me. One deep thrust, and his hard cock penetrates me as far as possible. He forces me to slow down, controlling my hips and his as he penetrates deeper. A simultaneous scream of pleasure, our hips moving as one, my knees open, pushing towards him with my hips as much as allowed in these restraints. I come hard, and I feel him fill me as well. 

Still inside of me, he reaches to release me, pulls off my blindfold, removes the vibrating cock-ring (so that’s what it was!) and looks me in the eyes, our noses nearly touching. I reach my mouth up and take his, biting his lower lip, his jawline, his neck, still grinding my hips upward through the last little pulses. He wraps his arms completely around me, head in my chest as we both pant like animals. 

Image: Alena Blohm and Paris Roberts by Camilla Åkrans for Vogue Germany July 2014