Winter Evening

The sun has just set outside our house. It's chilly tonight, with the overnight low predicted to be in the teens, and there are still several inches of unmelted snow along the edges of the roads and covering our yard. Inside, however, it is enticingly warm. All afternoon you've kept the flames dancing steadily in the two-sided fireplace that opens to both our den and our bedroom. Its warmth spread all the way through the house to my study, where I spent the afternoon at my computer, trying diligently to concentrate on the work I brought home to do over the weekend.

My concentration was impaired, however, despite my good intentions. I'd like to blame you for this, but the truth is that I was a willing participant in my own distractedness this afternoon. I could have gotten a lot more work done today had I not let myself become so aroused by the sensations emanating from my erect nipples.

All afternoon my nipples have been more sensitive than usual, due to the black rubber rings still in place at the base of each one. These aren't the small tight bands that turn my nipples dark purple from the constriction, since I can wear those only for about 10 minutes at a time. Instead, these are the second-to-largest size bands in our collection, and you usually make me wear them between three and five hours. They hold my nipples erect and increase their sensitivity, but without causing any pain or cutting off the circulation.

They've been on for just over four hours now. That means I've already had four hours of non-stop reminding that my body belongs to you.

When you put them on me earlier, you took charge, as usual.

"Face me and take your shirt off." I did. "Take your bra off." I did. "Lift up your right breast in your hand." I did. "Lift it higher - hold it up to me." And of course, I did. You used the bulb-style suction pump for easier application of the rubber rings, squeezing the bulb then placing the opening of the clear plastic cylinder over my nipple. When you released the bulb, the vacuum it created pulled on my nipple, elongating and thickening it. The sensation caused me to suck in my breath and clench my pussy in desire, because it turns me on immensely to have my nipples sucked on. While you held the cylinder in place, we both watched a few tiny drops of fluid slowly emerge from the milk duct orifices in my nipple, coaxed out by the suction pump.

(This fluid production has become commonplace for me, even though I weaned my last child more than 10 years ago. As long as the nipple fluid appears from both breasts, and only during/after our activities involving extensive breast stimulation, and as long as there are no other unusual symptoms (hard lumps, tender spots, red streaks, etc.) that are not obvious results of our physical activities, my doctor has assured me that it is completely normal. You laughed and rolled your eyes when an online source informed us that it used to be called "whore's milk.")

The suction pump had the two thin black rubber rings encircling the cylinder below the bulb. Once my nipple was fully elongated into the cylinder, you carefully rolled one of the black rings down off the cylinder and onto the base of my nipple. As the ring closed into its new position on my areola, the plastic cylinder popped off my breast. With one finger, you gently brushed the tip of my nipple, making my knees go weak. My breathing was already fast by this point.

"Mmmm," you sighed as you rubbed the few drops of fluid into the sensitive tissue, a half-smile on your lips, and I watched as your eyes moved from my breast to my face. When your eyes met mine, I felt the familiar jolt of lust - much like electricity - and apparently you did too, since you suddenly looked very hungry, and bent down to kiss my lips. You placed one hand on the back of my head, running your fingers up under my hair, and pulled my mouth tightly against yours. Oh, Christ, I so love being the object of your desire. Your attentions and affections make me feel desirable, and special, and loved.

You repeated the entire process on my left breast, taking your time...squeezing the bulb, applying the cylinder, making sure the nipple was fully extended into the cylinder before you rolled down the other black rubber ring, lightly rubbing the wet nipple with your finger. Once both rings were in place, you teased me for several minutes by flicking the tip of your tongue back and forth across my bound nipples, first telling me to place my hands on your shoulders and hold very still. I obeyed, as I always try to do, but it was an effort not to move during those very, very long minutes as your talented tongue took turns with both my breasts.

Once you had me so aroused I could hardly remain standing, you told me to put my shirt on - without a bra - and get back to work at my computer. And although this felt like a form of sexual torture, I somehow managed to put in almost four hours sitting at my desk. Unfortunately, most of that time was spent unproductively rereading paragraphs that blurred together in a meaningless collection of words. My body kept sending signals to my brain that there was something much more interesting going on elsewhere.

When you were ready, you came into my study and stood behind me, putting your hands on my shoulders and using your thumbs to massage my tight upper trapezius muscles. I sighed in relief, both from the kneading and from the knowledge that I could finally leave my computer. Kissing the top of my head gently, you said, "let's go." I stood up and followed you into our bedroom, my pulse quickening as I wondered what you had in mind for tonight.

At your instruction, I removed my shirt again and then all the rest of my clothes. The heat from the fireplace kept me from feeling cold, in spite of the wind I could hear outside, blowing the sparse tree branches into our windows like a cat scratching to get indoors. You stood in front of me, admiring my naked form. Licking your lips, you picked up one of the floggers on the dresser.

"Do you want to lie down on your front or your back? I'm planning to use this flogger for a long time tonight, so where do you want me to concentrate the sensation?"

Swallowing hard, but without hesitating, I replied, "I prefer to lie on my back, Sir." I would always rather have my breasts flogged than my ass, although we have enjoyed plenty of impact play while I was flat on my stomach. I am grateful you let me choose; you don't always. Nodding your head, you gestured for me to lie down on our four-poster bed.

I lay still, trying not to hold my breath, as you blindfolded me and cuffed my wrists and ankles to the four bed posts.

* * * * * *

Now, you are using your favorite wood-handled flogger. It has 12 square-edged faux-suede falls, their lightweight bite providing just enough sting for me to feel every touch, with an occasional weightier thud when you apply it harder than your usual wrist flick. You're using the flogger on my breasts softly but insistently, sweeping the falls in a figure 8 pattern so that every millimeter of my skin is tingling. The flogger's velvety tails are slapping against my breasts over and over and over and over. You're not flogging me hard enough to hurt, but the relentless light slaps are about to drive me past the limits of sanity. My pussy is dripping.

I wish I could see the expression on your face. I want to see your dilated pupils...and your erect cock. Over the sound of my own rapid breathing, I can still hear the crackling pops from the fireplace and the irregular scraping of branches against the windows when the wind gusts. The atmosphere in our bedroom would be cozy and relaxing under different circumstances.

As part of the flogger's subtle torment, the tips of the soft tails often connect directly with one or both of my nipples. This is intensely arousing and causes me to twitch in my restraints every time it happens. After the hours of mental foreplay and nipple stimulation today, my nipples are so sensitive that every touch sends sparks directly to my clit.

You're standing by the bed, and I hear rustling noises that probably mean you're undressing. The mattress shifts, and I feel your thighs straddling my shoulders. Holding the flogger behind your back, you are unable to maintain the previous figure 8 pattern, but you are still flicking your wrist up and down to ensure that the flogger's falls don't let up on my breasts.

"Stick out your tongue," you tell me, and I feel the tip of your erection pushing at my lips. Once my tongue is extended, you slide your cock into my mouth, moaning in pleasure. You start to slowly fuck my mouth, one hand on the mattress next to my head; the other still behind your back twitching the flogger against my breasts.

My brain is going to explode from this sexual tension. I'm flooded with longing for you.

And scared because I'm helpless. And excited because I know this is turning you on overwhelmingly. I can hear the arousal in your groans, your breaths, even though I can't see you. I want you to be as excited and turned on as I am. My role as your sub is to be whatever you need me to be, and right now I'm your plaything. You're a cat with a trapped mouse, a child with a new toy, a boy with his first girl.

Although you're most definitely NOT a boy, but a powerful, sexy, kind and thoughtful man. And I'm no girl...I'm an aroused and eager woman; I belong wholly and solely to you; I am thrilled at the intensity of our partnership and the knowledge of how happy I make you.

How do you know so well what I need to feel? Our verbal communication has always been excellent - neither of us has ever been able to speak so freely with another person - but you can communicate with me nonverbally just as effectively. You seem to know more about me than even I do. Without words, you can get inside my head. You are currently reading my mind, my breathing, the changing colors of my skin tone, the tightening and relaxing of my muscles...you are fluent in all of this. You can read me better than I ever thought possible.

Occasionally you slide your free hand between my thighs and gently stroke my inner labia and clit with one or two fingers, lightly, not hurriedly, as if to remind my pussy what it needs, but not provide it. You know how much this kind of teasing turns me on. But you never forget to keep applying the flogger to my breasts, no matter what else you're doing, and I'm starting to feel slightly desperate and trapped. How long can you continue torturing me like this?

Grasping a handful of my hair, you pull my head up off the bed and push your cock deeply into my throat, holding it there for several seconds, blocking my airway.

"Oh, Jesus, yes," you say in a ragged voice, "do it. Breathe through your nose. Swallow my whole cock. You can do it." Your erection is pulsing in my mouth, pushing down my throat. For the last couple of weeks, you have been trying to train me to deep throat you, but it hasn't been going well. I feel choked and panicky all of a sudden, too helpless, too stimulated - it's all too much. As soon as you withdraw your cock from my mouth I gasp for air, then whimper desperately, "no-stop-no-no-no - I can't do this." I am shaking my head from side to side as I repeat the word "no" several more times, my mouth brushing the head of your cock with each shake of my head. Finally remembering what to do, I whisper, "yellow."

You immediately rest my head back down, letting go of my hair. "You're okay, sweetie," you say in your deep, deep voice (one of the sexiest voices I have known in my entire life). "It's all right. Everything's okay." You stroke the side of my face soothingly, and my panic subsides. You bend way down and softly kiss my forehead, the tip of my nose, both my cheeks, my lips. I am reminded that I can trust you - that I DO trust you.

Trust has always scared me. More accurately, rejection was what I really feared. It was very difficult for me to open up to you emotionally. But you were patient and admirably steadfast, so I got braver. I showed you my flaws, shared with you my long-repressed desires...and you love me for all of it. Nothing about me - the real, private me - pushes you away, or scares you, or even turns you off. The more you know me, the more you want to know me. You have told me many times that I am the most fascinating woman you have ever known. I don't understand it, but I finally believe you.

And I want to give you whatever you want in return. I will be your fucktoy, plaything, lover, friend, confidante, someday maybe even slave. It secretly thrills me to think of handing over all my control to you. Not just in the bedroom, although that's been an important place for us to start.

The hand behind your back has slowed considerably, so that now the flogger's tails are just barely patting my skin. Then the flogger stops.

I moan in exquisite relief. But I also feel disappointment at the absence of its softly biting caress. I am still so, so aroused, and I want to feel you inside me. You shift your body lower on the bed, still placing gentle kisses on my face and my neck as you position yourself over me. I can feel your erection against my stomach as your kisses become slower and more deliberate. You're holding your weight above me with your hands, pushing up from the mattress on either side of my torso. I feel safe and protected lying here beneath you, between your muscular arms, despite - or perhaps because of? - my restrained wrists.

Raising my head, I blindly seek your mouth. As your lips meet mine, you lower your chest down against my breasts, and I cry out underneath you, my body bucking wildly in response to the feel of your skin on my nipples. After so many hours of teasing and anticipation, this firm pressure of your chest pushing me into the mattress is an exhilarating release. My hips thrust upwards and my back arches as I try to rub my breasts harder against your chest. Because the ankle cuffs are already holding my legs open, my hip thrusts allow you to slide your hard cock smoothly inside me. There is no need for any additional lubrication tonight.

You are determined to kiss me through my open-mouthed gasps. You suck on my tongue, hold my bottom lip between your teeth, then plunge your tongue deeply into my mouth, filling it the same way your cock is filling my pussy. Your hips are moving in time to my body's helpless thrusting. I can feel the head of your cock rhythmically hitting my cervix as your chest rubs over and over my nipples. The combined sensations finally push me over the edge. All my muscles tense as I feel the oncoming climax, then my entire body spasms in pleasure as you continue moving on top of me. I am crying out with each wave of pleasure, my body wrenching against my restraints, then I realize I am not merely crying out - I am literally crying. I sob beneath you, tears running down into my hair, trying to catch my breath. You have also climaxed, but I was only dimly aware of it. I'm shuddering and sobbing and shaking. Fortunately, you know there's no need to be alarmed by my display of raw emotion.

You reach up to unclip my wrist restraints from the bed posts, then relax down fully on top of me, wrapping your arms tightly around my torso. Your head is nestled in the curve of my neck. I wrap my arms around your shoulders, clutching at your back and stroking your hair, still crying. But it's a cleansing sort of crying, allowing me to release all the emotions that usually stay so tightly knotted up inside me. You know how much I need that release, and I love you for creating circumstances under which it's possible.

I feel so relaxed now. So at peace. As my sobs subside, you carefully twist your body so you can unfasten my ankle restraints while still always maintaining contact with my skin. I roll onto my side so I can wrap one leg around your hips, as you settle down on your back next to me. I stroke your chest with my hand, curving my fingers loosely into the hair on your chest. You wrap your hand around mine; your other arm is under my neck and gently caressing my back.

As we drift into peaceful sleep, our intertwined bodies generate heat every bit as warm as the glow from the still-burning fireplace.

And now, our bedroom is just as cozy and relaxing as I knew it would be.