Undone

A dark room. Covered eyes and tied hands. Fingers dance across my collarbone as a tongue trails slowly from the middle of my neck to the shell of my ear. A firm smack is planted on my ass, causing me to shudder. He comes closer.

“Guess,” he whispers. He kisses and nibbles at the side of my neck. Straddling the chair with my naked backside facing him, I sigh and shift in my seat.

“A belt,” I reply. He pulls back from my body. I hear his footsteps as he circles me. The steps stop behind me.

“Wrong.” Smack! I wince at the feeling of leather against my bottom, sending a tingle between my thighs.

“Guess again.”

“A crop?” He groans with slight disappointment. Something brushes against the side of my thigh, and I bite my lip in anticipation. His other hand slowly caresses my left cheek, sliding up the rolls and dips of my belly then grazing against my nipple. Without warning, he gives it a pinch, and I moan, leaning back and using my free fingers to grasp onto the back of the chair. 

“We’ve been at it for 20 minutes. Are you playing with me?” Reveling in the mixture of pleasure and pain, a small smile graces my lips in response, followed by a chuckle. He clears his throat.

“No.” I say plainly, knowing that my cavalier tone will get under his skin. 

Silence. 

Swiftly, his hand snakes around my neck, applying some pressure.

“No, what?” He demands, calmly yet sternly. I lick my lips and open my legs ever so slightly. I’m not willing to give up so quickly. He takes my lack of response as my answer. The paddle hits the side of my thigh with gusto, causing me to squeal in a mix of delight and pain.  

“No. What?!” I wouldn’t dare to let him repeat it for a third time.

“No, Sir.” I gasp as I fight against my desire to fully submit. 

~~~

D and I met at a munch—a social gathering for people involved in or interested in BDSM. From the moment I saw him, I knew he wasn’t one of these “cookie cutter Doms”. He stood alone in a corner, watching me from afar as I lit up the room. Our eyes met several times throughout the night, and after what felt like an eternity, I finally mustered up the liquid courage to approach him.

I leaned against the bar table, putting my drink down. I looked up at him, his body towering over mine. We greeted one another and sat down, chatting for hours. We learned that we had a lot in common—we’re both Black, queer switches. We also shared the experience of trying to find a safe haven in a community that, in some cases, couldn’t care less about our existence. 

As a larger, Black woman, I was always cautious about dating within the community due to experiencing so much fetishism. But he wasn’t one of those “cookie cutter kinksters”. He was kind, knowledgeable, and multidimensional. A man after my own heart, he knew my needs and intuitively matched his energy with mine, naturally keeping in tune with the waxing and waning of my need for both dominance and submission. 

We moved in together and decided to build a life of our own, living in a Manhattan shoebox apartment with a cat. This came with some challenges—he was so neurotic and particular about things, and the inner brat in me was always tempted by this, constantly finding ways to push his buttons. 

Like today. D is hard at work, trying to lead a teleconference while I saunter about the room to clean. Bare bodied and in the brattiest of moods, I’m doing everything I can to catch his attention. I begin to “accidentally” drop the cleaning supplies in my hands, and when I bend over to pick them up, I make sure the fullness of my round ass is in his direct eyesight. I know he is watching me. I hear him groan in a mix of frustration as he shifts in his seat.

“You need to stop,” he warns. I turn to face him.

“Stop what? I’m just cleaning up,” I reply.

“You know exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.” 

I fold my arms across my chest and stand tall. “And what if I don’t?” 

No response.

I chuckle and continue my task, feeling triumphant. Suddenly, I feel D grab my arm. I gasp in surprise.

“Since you don’t want to stop, I’ll give you a reason to,” he declares. I gulp as he escorts me to the bedroom, knowing that whatever comes next is going to be more than I bargained for.

~~~

The dark room. Covered eyes and tied hands. D circles around the chair again. I hear his footsteps stop directly in front of me. I feel his thumb brush against my lips. I invite it in by parting my lips, and he pushes it into my mouth, sending a rush to my sex. I suck while my tongue languidly flicks against the tip of his thumb. I get lost in the act. We groan simultaneously.

Suddenly, he removes his thumb from my mouth, and pinches my other nipple, causing me to gasp. 

“Such a fucking pain slut,” he muses. I let out a small giggle that turns into a moan. 

“Mmhmm,” I reply, earning another spank on my ass. D clicks his tongue and reaches around my waist to untie my hands.

“You seem to be having a great time testing me,” he says dryly as he loosens the rope. 

“And what if I do?” He unravels the last bit of rope, and it falls to the floor. I flex my newly liberated wrists with relief. 

No response. The silence is maddening. 

He takes me by the left hand and uses the other to tap my shoulder, signaling for me to get up. I rise, and he guides me across the room, my knees pressing against the edge of the bed. His fingers trail up and down the rolls of my back and around to rub at my full belly. 

“Bend over,” he urges. 

I shake my head in refusal. “Make me.” I retort coldly.  

Challenge accepted.

“Oh, I never thought you’d say that,” he responds, a small chuckle escaping his lips. The paddle makes sharp contact with my ass again, causing me to yelp. Another strike. And another one. I’m trying my damndest to keep my back straight, yet to no avail. I am slowly but surely starting to succumb to the sensations. Six blows in, there is a pause. D allows me to catch my breath.  

“Are you done being a brat?” 

I laugh audibly. “Never.” 

He slowly drags the paddle up and down the curve of my back. I shudder.

“Final answer?” He asks, pausing at the top of my ass. I gulp. I nod my head with caution. 

He taps my ass to warn me. “Use your words.” 

I grab onto the bed spread, afraid of what’s coming next.

“Final answer.” 

In the blink of an eye, he pushes me onto the bed, pulling me up so that my knees are firmly planted and my ass is in the air. He rubs my ass with the paddle and inhales. The quiet before the storm.

“Count them.” A firm hit lands against my right cheek. I wince.

“One.” I sigh, followed by another smack. “Two.” And he goes again, and again, and again, each hit getting slightly stronger and harder than the previous one. By the tenth hit I feel my knees buckling from a mixture of pain and desire. He pauses to bring his lips to my ear.

“Are we giving up?” He whispers.

“No, Sir,” I say. My body is on the brink of surrendering, but my mind won’t allow it. I fully intend to prove my strength. He kisses and sucks at my neck then returns to my ear. I take a deep breath and readjust myself, trying to take my mind off of my knees buckling. 

“Good girl. Let’s continue.” Ten more blows, and I’m struggling to count. I’m completely enraptured by the sensation, each hit blurring the thin line between pleasure and pain. He keeps reminding me to breathe throughout the process. 

He stops at twenty-five, and I hear him step back. Silence ensues, and I know he is admiring his handiwork.

“I can’t wait for you to see how beautiful your ass is,” D exclaims proudly. I moan. 

He gently lifts me up and walks me over to the mirror. He steps back and gives me the floor. Facing the mirror head on, I look at myself intently, slowly turning to admire the myriad of purple and brown marks on my lower half. I glide my hands down my ass, my fingertips connecting the dots between bruises. I look into the corner of the mirror and observe him watching me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, as he steps forward to hug and kiss me from behind.

“Let’s get you on your back.”

Hands on my sides, he helps me ease onto the bed and allows me to move backwards. I hiss at the sting of my ass against the comforter. His fingers return to my thighs and dance closer and closer to my pussy. 

“May I touch you here?” He asks.

I moan. “Yes, please.” 

Putting my knees up, I spread my thighs, feeling his fingers trail down my inner thighs, then trace my lips. Such a fucking tease.

“Is this where you want to be touched?” He asks coyly, kissing my inner thigh.

“No, Sir.” I sigh. He moves his thumb up and slightly grazes against my clit, eliciting a gasp. He rests his hand directly above it.           

“Here?” He asks again. I suck my teeth and attempt to guide his hand with mine. He moves it back to my side. “Mind yourself.” I squirm and let out a growl of frustration, only to be ignored as he continues to tease me. 

I feel him shift his weight and reach across the bed, grabbing some items. A low buzzing begins to fill the room. 

Abruptly, he puts the toy on my clit, turning the speed up slightly. My back arches.

“Fuck.” I mutter. He chuckles again.

“Is this what you wanted?” 

“More.” He keeps the toy in place as he reaches for something else. My breathing quickens. He turns the toy up one more notch.

“More, you say?” I feel something soft tap against my stomach.

“Yes, Sir. More.” I reply with fervor, my body aching to be released from perpetual yet sweet torture. The vibrator is turned up again, only to be accompanied by a familiar yet fluffy enemy—a feather. 

I shriek at the sensation of the combination—a dynamic duo that brings me so much agony and so much pleasure at the same time. I shift to evade the feather, but to no avail. I am putty in his hands.

“Be still. I didn’t tell you to move.” 

The feather finds its way to my side, my weakness, my Achilles heel. At this point, his intent is clear. He wants me to beg, and I am hell bent on not giving in to him. 

However, my body is telling a completely different story. 

The intensity of the tickling increases in tandem with the vibrator. Tears well up in my eyes. I squeal again.

“You know,” he begins as he circles my clit with the toy, “you look so beautiful like this. Seeing you come undone is one of my absolute favorite things. Watching you fight for control and then succumbing to pleasure truly arouses me.”

I feel a familiar warmth in my stomach, and my pussy starts to tingle from within. I can no longer hold back.

“Please, Sir… Can I cum please?” I ask sweetly but with such urgency. He laughs, earning a frustrated groan from me.

“I don’t know. Do you deserve it?” I cry quietly at the sensations. 

“I do. Please, please, please! I’m begging.” I rotate my hips to grind against the toy. I hear him moan with delight. 

“Cum for me.” And in that moment, I let go, losing myself to an influx of immense pleasure. I cry out as the feeling takes hold, allowing every contraction to take me deeper and deeper into the blissful unknown. He’s won.

Coming down from my peak, I’m floating on a cloud, dangling from a string between life and death. Existing as if nothing else matters in the moment. He comes to my side and gingerly sits me up, removing the cover from my eyes. Face to face, he takes his thumb and wipes the tears from my eyes, kissing me passionately. Pulling back, he holds my face in his hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. I nod with my eyes closed, intoxicated by the post-orgasm tremors.

Photo by BestBe Models