Allow me to set the scene. In a darkened bedroom, a woman wearing only a pair of glasses and a very, very mischievous smile wiggles her butt in the air as she positions herself on all fours, spreading the weight to her elbows, away from her cuffed hands, asking for me to get a little rough. I swiftly pick up my belt off the floor and lightly pat her ass with it, teasing her.
“Ooh, a belt,” she laughs, “a little traditional but not bad.”
Normally, I’m not a very dominant person. I don’t exude that in-charge attitude naturally, in fact being in charge of everything in a relationship would drive me up a wall. No, I like strong equals as my partners. That said, however, after a certain conversation, the right words, and the right mood behind closed doors brings out a whole new me. A me that isn’t shy about giving instructions. A me that won’t hesitate to spank you if you’re being disobedient on purpose, just to test me. A me who will order you to beg me for something you really want. A me who might just deny you an orgasm if I don’t think you quite earned it yet. “Emily” was a girl who liked that me. A lot.
We established that early on when she told me she was very active in the local BDSM community and enjoyed being caned and spanked on a regular basis. Our first hookup was fairly typical as we just felt each other out, having discussed that she wanted an ongoing thing, not just a one nighter. But as we kept getting together and talked about more and more things, we slowly but surely ramped up to that night. It started after a light dinner, when I had her strip down, put on a blindfold, deepthroat me until I said enough, cuffing her hands out of the way, covering her chest and stomach in baby oil, and having her eager tongue lick my tip as it slid between her shiny, slick breasts, and now with her eagerly anticipating a little pain with her pleasure after a little break filled with deep, open mouth kisses and my fingers deep in her pussy and playing with her clit. (Oddly, she did not like receiving oral.)
With a fair bit of caution, I wind up and smack her with the leather. No effect. Odd. Another hard smack lands just as anticlimactically. Feeling the need to assert myself, I steadily escalate how hard the belt is landing, almost getting to the point where my hip is going into it. She sweetly giggles and tells me in her amazing, soothing voice that could give any acousticophile an instant erection that I need to work on my aim. Despite the faint marks that now criss-cross across her soft skin, none of the whipping actually did anything. This was going to be tough, but I realized I had an ace up my sleeve.
Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a sturdy, large spatula with holes. Yes, the holes were meant to help keep things from sticking to the utensil but when swung, it was basically a paddle with extremely low air resistance. Once applied to someone’s rear end with a flick of my wrist, it left marks. If my sweet, sadomasochist, more giggly than a Japanese schoolgirl after being whipped, was unaffected by a belt, this should definitely do the trick. Confidently I strolled back into the bedroom, twirling it in my hand and lining up for a good smack.
“Gonna try again, huh?” she teased, unaware what I brought with me.
Without saying a word, I swung the spatula at pretty close to full strength. It connected with a room-filling “whap!” that was sure to make a more vanilla person watching this cringe. She groaned, making my heart skip a beat. Did I just go too far? Was I about to hear her use a safe word for the very first time? A second later, a giggle. Internally awestruck, I kept on paddling her until the giggling turned to moaning and her legs spread as wide as she could spread them.
I placed my hand on her warm, dripping mound, and gave her one last, hard smack, trying to match the previous one as closely as possible for the added sting. That was the trick is spanking or paddling someone, you see. Repeated strikes all over the place don’t do the job. Hitting the same spot again and again increases the sting which is exactly what you want because your partner is getting pleasure from the rush of endorphins, and the more pain, the more endorphins are released. (Within reason, of course.) Tossing the spatula away, I plunged my now throbbing cock deep inside her sweltering pussy. She gasped with relief, moaning with each hard, accelerating stroke.
“Yes, oh my God,” she breathily let out, “pound that pussy…”
Knowing full well that the sound of her sweet and innocent voice forming dirty words always drew me to closer to the edge, she kept at it while my thrusts grew more vicious and my fingers dug into her sides like claws. She was charming and we were were great friends, but after the paddling and with the soundtrack of her sweet mouth letting loose with the dirtiest sexual euphemisms she could think of, I wasn’t so much having sex with her, or even fucking her, as much as I was trying to pound her pussy into submission, growling like a wild animal.
“Yes, keep fucking my hole, just like that,” she moaned, driving me crazier and crazier, until my right hand started to come down on her ass full force. I’m by no means a bodybuilder, but I definitely had the muscle mass to do real damage. None of it mattered to my grateful, pain-loving little slut with the voice of an angel and a mouth that would stun a sailor. I knew from experience that her eyes were now closed in bliss, mouth open in a breathless gasp.
I grabbed a handful of her hair, tilting her head back. My hips were slamming into her ass, my other hand still digging into her hip as she squealed, her pussy convulsing around my cock. I didn’t care because I was lost in her moans and alternating screams of delight. Sweat dripped down my brow.
“I… I… want to feel you explode,” she continued in moans, “… to fill my cunt… Please…”
By this time, we had been seeing each other for months, exclusively. After getting tested and a few careful conversations, we decided to ditch the condoms. As she gasped, moaned, and arched her back, I could feel every little spasm and contraction around my cock. It felt so good that I both never wanted this to stop, and to acquiesce to her pleading. Before realizing it, my mouth let out a stifled, long groan as my balls emptied themselves deep inside Emily who squealed again as my body’s orgasmic spasm triggered her own climax. Still holding on to her ass, I let loose with a stream of obscenities in in my native language, then smacked her ass with my open palm so hard, my hand stung for almost a minute afterwards.
We collapsed into a messy, sweaty heap, kissing and holding each other as we struggled to catch our breath after I unlocked her cuffs. Her ass was still warm and covered in welts from the abuse it took, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all. Neither of us said a word for a while.
“But seriously,” she finally said as our breathing returned to normal, “you need to work on your aim a little.”
I flipped her on her back as she burst out laughing, grabbed her breasts, bit, and sucked hard on her nipples while my knees parted her thighs. Quickly grabbing under her knees, I raised her legs in the air and entered her again, sliding in with barely any resistance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I smirked, “my aim is just fine right now.”
The next round was much gentler, slower aftercare sex, with a lot of kissing, talking, and laughing. After subjecting someone to restraints, abuse, and a rough pounding that was basically a full fledged cardio workout, the most important thing you can do is show that it was all in good fun.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/7uay4y/mf_when_your_fwb_is_a_masochist_bondagespanking