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The conversation was not that unusual; we talked about sex all the time. It was where we were having the discussion that made it atypical: at dinner, before a warm, crackling fire, at an old colonial Inn, surrounded by a dozen other diners.

It was our six month anniversary. We celebrated with an evening out and a quiet dinner; me in a suit and tie, Sandra in a little black, cum-fuck-me dress, which she insisted on wearing despite the frigid winter weather.

Her long, strawberry blonde hair sparkled in the flickering firelight; bright red lipstick and manicured nails contrasted with her fair skin; and a double string of white pearls sparkled around her neck. Freckles on her cheeks gave her the little girl appearance that I liked. She was easily the best looking woman in the room. Even our waiter seemed to pay more attention to her than to others in the dining room, including me.

The mid-thigh length dress clung to Sandra’s body like a second skin, revealing considerable cleavage, the sloping curve of her ass, and much of her toned, athletic thighs. Still, it was not much to wear when the outside temperature was below freezing.

If things went as I hoped, and Sandra’s manner of dress certainly suggested that it would, I looked forward to getting home and slipping that tiny piece of fabric off her luscious body.

How we got onto the subject of sex so early in the evening, I do not recall. Nonetheless, that was the hushed topic. Sandra was enjoying her second glass of burgundy, picking at a salad, and telling a detailed story about what one of her girlfriends like to do in bed.

Sandra liked sex, often initiating our encounters. And, she had the erotic mind and sensuous body to be really good at it. She took some pride in being a woman who was confident in her sexual abilities.

Despite her confidence, and perhaps because we were still relatively new in our relationship, Sandra sometimes expressed a concern that I might think less of her because of her sexually interests and desires. Her revealing that one of her girlfriends liked or did something in the bedroom seemed more of an attempt to validate Sandra’s own interests and likes rather than a simple tale of a friend’s secret desires and activities. If one of Sandra’s girlfriends liked doing something in the bedroom, it was okay for Sandra to like it too. If a girlfriend did something that might be considered sexually unusual or different, then it was acceptable behavior for Sandra. If her pal Bonnie liked to take it in the ass, then Sandra could do anal as well without seeming to be “different” or a slut.

Whether any of her revelations were the truth or just something to cover and approve her own wants and needs, I do not know. It was not necessary for her to tell me the tales. But if they helped Sandra to explain her own needs and desires, what was the harm.

By a warm, dancing flame, in an old colonial fireplace, Sandra whispered her story about a friend being tied to a bed for the first time and greatly enjoying the experience.

“Have you ever done that?” She asked in a soft voice.

“I have.”

Sandra seemed surprised at my quick and direct response.

“What was it like? What did you do?”

Our waiter served our entree, ogling Sandra’s cleavage once again as he positioned each plate on the table. He took an even closer look as he poured more wine into her glass. It gave me time to think about my answer.

I kept my response general, not wanting to offer details of my sexual experiences with other women. I did include enough specifics to convey that I had, indeed, restrained more than one lady during sex. I leaned forward, and with a quickening heart beat, I whispered that I had particularly enjoyed teasing the ladies until they could take no more and begged for some relief. Sandra’s eyes widened, she stopped chewing her food, and her face flushed.

There followed a sufficient period of silence that I thought maybe I had said too much; raised a topic that she did not care for; or, said something that made her uncomfortable. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and in those few seconds of silence, a slight gloss of regret sweat broke out on my forehead.

“Michael, that’s my biggest sexual fantasy.” Sandra whispered across the table, with more than a hint of excitement mixed with a slight flush of embarrassment.

“Being tied up?” I asked.

“Being tied up and teased.” She replied, looking around the room to see if anyone was listening to her private disclosure.

I welcomed the waiter’s interruption, asking if everything was okay, pouring more wine, and not too subtly eyeing Sandra’s breasts.

“How serious are you about it?” I asked, after the waiter had departed.

“What are you proposing?” She coyly asked with a little smile and glint in her eye.

“You and I exploring your fantasy,” I paused for a second or two, and then leaned across the table so she would be sure to hear me. “Interested?”

Sandra stared down at her plate and moved some food around with her fork.

“Tonight?” She asked, looking around once again to see if anyone was listening.

“Yes. Tonight.”

Another pause as she eyed the food on her plate again.

“Yes,” she said with conviction, not caring who might hear her.

It was only one word; one affirmative response. Yet in that one word Sandra expressed her excitement, nervousness, and eagerness to be restrained and pleasured.

Nothing was said for another long minute or two.

“I need to say something, and please don’t take it the wrong way,” Sandra finally said, looking uncomfortable. “I need it to be rough.”

She stared at me looking for a reaction.

“Rough?” I asked, emphasizing my question with a tilt of my head and raised eyebrows.

“We shouldn’t talk about it now.” She said, looking nervously around the dining room.

If Sandra had just said something positive about wanting to be restrained, and suggested that she might be interested in some rough play as well, I would have been more than excited, and rushed to finish dinner so we could get home. But she had included a phrase that I had learned long ago never refers to something positive: don’t take this the wrong way.

Whatever it was, whatever she had to say that I should not take the wrong way, made her uncomfortable. Whatever that something was, she thought that I might not want to hear it. That made me uncomfortable, as well.

……………………..

The inside of the car was freezing. I turned up the climate control and the window defroster, and headed out onto the road to Sandra’s place.

“And what is it about rough that we couldn’t talk about at dinner?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” She said, looking out the passenger side window.

“What is it about you wanting rough sex that I might take the wrong way?”

“I love what we do in bed. You are a very good lover. You satisfy me in every way.”

“And?” I said, after an awkward silence.

“You are very good at sex, and the most erotic man I have ever met.”

Awkward silence again.

“But?” I finally asked, sensing that there was more that she wanted to say.

“I’d like the sex to be rougher. I want you to be rougher with me. I don’t want you to be afraid to make it hurt a little.”

I had been fucking Sandra almost from the time of our first date. I always made her cum, and there were never any complaints. Now I’m told that in all that time, Sandra did not think that I had been rough enough. I should have accepted the revelation as something positive; something that would make our intimate times together that much more interesting and pleasurable. I should have, but I did not. It was a hit to my male ego.

“And how am I supposed to take that?”

It was a stupid question, but all I could think of at the time.

“It’s not a criticism. Please don’t take it that way. It’s a suggestion; an idea; something we can consider adding when we play.”

Sandra could phrase it however she wanted. The bottom line was that it was not just something that we could consider adding. And it was not just a suggestion. It was something that she wanted; something she needed; something that was important to her which had been missing from our love making; something that I had not provided. It bothered me that all this time I had not been satisfying Sandra’s sexual needs; providing what she wanted. What else was I not doing? What else had she not told me?

Sandra leaned over the car’s center console and placed her hand on my upper thigh, groping for my manhood.

“Tonight you discovered my biggest fantasy. I want to be tied up and teased until I cum. I have never told anyone about that before, not even my girlfriends. I have the opportunity to explore that fantasy tonight and make it come true. And you are the one who I want to be with when the fantasy becomes a reality. I just want it to be perfect; the way I’ve dreamed about it.”

“And I’ve not been rough enough?” I asked, ignoring her explanation and hand exploring my groin.

“I just want you to know that when you tie me up and tease me tonight, you can be as rough as you want. I’d like that. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

I wasn’t listening. My male ego had been bruised, and self-doubt about my sexual abilities had already filled my mind like a dark cloud.

………………………..

Funny thing about men: while the male ego and big brain may harbor a hurt for days or longer, that little brain between our legs has a mind of its own. Sandra’s hand had succeeded in coaxing a full erection which now strained against my pant leg. Encouraged by my male demonstration of interest, Sandra ran her fingernails over the swelling head of my cock, teasing me. The hurt was still there, but my eagerness to fuck Sandra had returned. I stepped on the gas pedal.

“Do you have anything that we can use to tie you to your bed?”

“I’ll find something.” She said, as she unzipped my pants, freed my swollen pole from its constraints, and wrapped her soft lips around the head of my shaft.

It was a thirty minute drive back to Sandra’s house. It was an enjoyable, if not dangerous ride back.

………………………

Once inside Sandra’s house, coats were quickly thrown over the back of a chair, and high heels kicked off. There was an eagerness to get to the task, and Sandra quickly led me up the stairs to her bedroom.

Standing in front of a full length mirror, Sandra turned her back to me and held her hair up and out of the way. I unclasped her necklace, and as she held the pearl strands in her hand and removed her earrings, I undid the top of the little black dress and slowly pulled the zipper all the way down to her almost bare ass. With my hands on her shoulders, I gently slid the tiny dress off, letting it fall to the floor. I stared into the mirror, ogling Sandra in her black bra and tiny g-string, her long blonde hair and alabaster skin, appreciating what was about to be mine. I held her bare hips and kissed her neck and shoulders, eliciting a low moan of pleasure.

“I am so wet right now.” She admitted.

Sandra reached behind and undid her bra, exposing her firm, white mounds and hard, red nipples, each of which stood out like a new pencil eraser. I reached around and softly cupped each breast while rolling each nipple softly between my fingers and thumb.

“Mmmmmm. That feels so good!” She moaned.

She is a beautiful lady with a body men dream about, and I was about to have her in the most intimate of ways.

Sandra went off to look for something we could use to tie her up, her tits swaying back and forth and up and down as she walked out of the bedroom.

While I undressed, I looked around the room for toys I could use to tease and pleasure the lady. There were two hair brushes on her make-up table, one with a rough, round, plastic handle and hard bristles, and the other with a smooth square, wood handle and softer bristles. A quill-like pen with a big feather adorned her dresser. I found two vibrators in her night stand draw, one rocket-shaped and the other the size of a lip stick case. Along with the vibrators was an 8” dildo. Under the dildo was a pair of silver nipple clips, still in an unopened package. A quick trip into the bath located a tube of lubrication and a towel.

I opened the nipple clip package and placed everything but the towel on the night stand next to the bed. I draped the towel over the head board, to be used as necessary.

Sandra returned with a few potential restraints. A thin rope and a thick piece of ribbon looked like they would break or tear if tugged too hard. The third option, a thick, soft rope, would work just fine.

I sat down on the easy chair in the corner of Sandra’s bedroom and removed my shoes and socks. Sandra followed and stood in front of me, wearing only her tiny g-string. We were about to embark on her biggest fantasy, yet she seemed not quite sure what she should be doing. She just stood there, shaking a bit with excitement. It was time for me to take control.

Sandra knew that I wanted to be the one who removed her panties. I motioned to her to step forward. The g-string was nothing more than a thin, black string, holding a small patch of black material which just covered her labia. Describing the tiny string as panties would be a stretch. I reach up and ran my thumbs under the string and slowly slid the little black triangle down Sandra's legs and off her feet and ankles. I could feel Sandra’s body quiver and her legs shake.

“Spread your legs a little.” I told her.

As I had done a number of times before, I slowly and lightly ran the fingers of one hand up the front of her leg, while doing the same on the back of her leg. I reached her pussy with the fingers of both hands at the same time, eliciting a low moan and several little body jerks.

“Fuck. That feels so good,” She murmured.

Sandra held onto my shoulders as I ran my fingers along her flowering, wet lips, opening her pussy and letting her juices flow.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now.” She said with a quivering voice.

I got off the chair, put my hand gently on her ass cheek and walked her to her bed. For the first time, Sandra saw the toys I had collected and put on her night stand. She smiled her approval.

The bed was perfect for what I had planned. Several square wood bed posts formed the headboard, and a two-piece wood side board bordered the length of the mattress. When Sandra was being pleasured, she often reached back with both hands and held the head board posts tightly as waves of pleasure rippled through her body. When she was on her knees, she would grasp the wooden posts to steady herself against my thrusts. It was not a great leap of imagination to see that her wrists could be just as easily tied to those posts.

Sandra pulled her long hair back, secured it in a long pony tail with two elastic bands, and sat cross-legged on the bed facing me, as I prepared the rope restraint. Her pussy was fully open and already leaking her honey juices onto the bed covers. Her breasts jiggled as her body shivered in anticipation of what was to come.

“I love your cock,” she informed me, filling the void of silence in the room as I prepared the ropes. “I love how big it is; touching it; how it feels in me.”

She reached out and held the head of my cock in her hand, stroking it slightly and causing pre-cum to flow out into the palm of her hand.

“Tell me if this hurts at all.” I told her, as I slipped a little noose over one hand, tightening it around her wrist.

I wrapped the soft cord around her wrist a couple of times, and then around her other wrist. Finally, I looped the rope around the section of cord between her wrists, securing her wrists together, but leaving enough length to tie her to the head board. Sandra did not seem concerned, but she did look at me with a confused gaze. I think she was anticipating that I was going to tie each wrist separately to each corner of the head board.

“When I tie you to the head board, this will allow you to swivel, so you can be on your back or on your knees. If I tied you to the end posts, you’d be spread eagle and unable to turn over.”

She accepted my explanation without comment, giving me a look of approval, and lay on the mattress with her hands stretched over her head. I tied her wrists to the head board posts.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

She nodded in the affirmative, rolling her body side to side looking for a comfortable position.

I moved off the bed, stood where she could see me, and took my clothes off. When I slid my underwear off, my manhood sprung out and waggled back and forth in front of her. A hungry look of passion and pleasure quickly appeared on Sandra’s face.

I held my stiff manhood over Sandra’s lips and let her lick and suck my shaft, especially the sensitive head. Web-like strings of pre-cum swung down and attached to her chin and nose.

The teasing had begun.

…………………..

I played with Sandra’s nipples for ten minutes or so, pinching and pulling, and rolling each between my fingers and thumb. Sandra liked nipple play, and I took care to do it slowly and softly, letting the pleasure build.

“Harder.” She instructed.

I tweaked each nipple hard enough to illicit a little moan.

“Harder” She said again.

I ignored her and moved on, talking to her; whispering in her ear; getting into her head; getting her juices flowing.

“Do you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to play with your body; tease your pussy until you scream; fuck you; play with your ass hole. Maybe, if you are really good, and you really let me know that you like it, I may let you cum for me.”

Rather than tie Sandra’s ankles to the bed posts, I wrapped rope around each knee, and tied each knee separately to an upper side board. Sandra’s legs were spread wide, exposing her dripping love-hole. Once she figured out what I was doing, and why I was doing it, the expression on her face changed from puzzlement to understanding and approval.

I knelt between Sandra’s legs, leaned forward and sucked on her nipples. She has beautiful breasts, and always enjoyed showing them to me, just as I enjoyed playing with them. I don’t think it was any surprise to her that as part of my playing with her restrained body, I would return again and again to play with her nipples.

I kissed my way down to her bare mound. Sandra was waxed. She had been bare since I had known her; always smooth and glossy; and never any shaving stubble.

With her legs stretched wide, I had full access to her weeping slit, and sucked on her labia, licked her pussy south to north, and darted my tongue deep into her love hole. Sandra liked to be eaten. And, she was certainly capable of multiple orgasms. So, licking and playing with her wet kitten until she had her first writhing orgasm was what I often did first when we had the time to fool around. This night would be no different. She would expect me to pay a lot of attention to her love hole, and to use my mouth and tongue to provide her with her first orgasm.

I did pay a lot of attention to her sopping slit; her orgasm, however, would have to wait.

Whether Sandra was on a bed, in a chair, on the floor or on her hands and knees, and I had access to her slit with my mouth and tongue, I had learned to recognize the signs of an approaching orgasm. Her legs would begin to shake, her breathing would get deeper and faster, her juices would flow and drip, the sounds she made became more animal-like, and she would slowly begin to arch her back and neck as the pleasure in her core began to grow and spread throughout her body.

“Yes! Yes!” or “Oh Yeah!” or “Fuck yes!”, repeated again and again, was soon followed by a bucking orgasm for her, and a face full of pussy juice for me.

I tongue-fucked Sandra’s hole, teasing the soaked flower, until the telltale signs of an impending orgasm appeared. Then I stopped. There was a small moan of disappointment, despite Sandra knowing in advance that this was how it was going to be.

I started again, licking her pussy, and then licking down between her ass cheeks. Again I brought her almost to the point of orgasm before stopping. By the time I had brought her close and had stopped for the fourth time, the little moans of disappointment had changed to longer moans of frustration.

I grabbed the hair brush with the hard bristles, and dragged the bristles over her neck and shoulders, and then down over her tits, being careful with her nipples, and then down over her stomach to the top of her pussy. I ran the bristles over the inside of her thighs, from her knees to her pussy lips, taking care not to touch her lips, and then over her ass cheeks. Sandra squirmed and expressed soft moans of pleasure as I explored her body with the brush.

“Want me to run the brush over your pussy lips?” I asked.

“Yes. Yes.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I ran the hair brush handle over her wetness, and then slowly inserted the rough plastic handle into her love hole. Sandra’s back arched and her eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a long, low moan. I don’t think having the hair brush handle in her kitten was expected. But there was little doubt that she liked it.

I fucked Sandra’s slit with the hair brush handle for several minutes. The handle was not very thick or long. Still, it was an effective toy which brought pleasure to Sandra and her pussy. She watched as I pushed the handle deep into her love hole, grunting with each thrust of the hair brush.

“Ugghh. Ugghh. Ugghh”.

A feather is another effective toy. Its use is not going to make a lady cum; but it does tickle and brings both soothing and sometimes intense, exasperating pleasure.

I tickled Sandra’s nipples with the feather, moved down over her stomach to her inner thighs, and finally her pussy lips, where I stayed for a while, lightly touching her labia and love hole, tickling the sensitive region and making Sandra grunt and writhe. She liked it. She squirmed, cried, gritted her teeth, and begged me to stop, but she liked it.

But a feather has an even better use as a teasing tool. I removed the restraints from her knees and flipped Sandra over onto her knees. I ran the feather tip up and down her slit, tickling her swollen lips. Then I spread her ass cheeks, and touched the tip of the feather to her puckered hole, tickling the sensitive opening. It only took a minute before Sandra begged for me to stop. I did not. It was only a minute later when she began to beg for something, anything to be put in her ass.

“Put your finger in my ass. Fuck my ass. Put something in my ass.”

There was an urgency in her plea; a desperation in her voice. The feather may just tickle an asshole, but it tickles deep down into one’s very core.

“Fuck that feels so good.” She said when I finally stopped.

I wet the plastic hair brush handle with Sandra’s juices, slid the slender grip into her ass hole, and slowly fucked her ass with it.

Holding the one hair brush handle in her ass, I reached for the softer bristle hair brush and ran the soft bristles of that brush over Sandra’s parted pussy lips.

“Fuck me,” Sandra asked. “Please fuck me. I want your cock.”

We had moved from the teasing stage of Sandra’s fantasy, to the teasing and begging phase.

As I fucked Sandra’s ass with the plastic hair brush handle, I inserted the square, wooden handle of the softer brush into her sopping slit. A little sheen of sweat had appeared on Sandra’s forehead and just under her nose, and her moans and groans grew longer and louder, as she tugged on her restraint. I fucked both holes with the hair brush handles and listened to her moans of pleasure.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, playing with her mind again.

“Fuck me!” Fuck my pussy! Fuck my ass!”

“Not yet.” I told her, as I slid each hair brush handle slowly out of its respective opening.

Sandra let out a loud moan of frustration.

I flipped her back over onto her back, redid the restraints on each knee, and started again to tease her sex with my mouth and tongue. I buried my tongue in Sandra’s pussy and worked my way up to her swollen clitoris. I flicked her love nub back and forth with my tongue until she began to shake and push her hips up to meet my mouth. I stopped. She moaned with frustration.

Sandra was irritated now, and her moans of frustration signaled that she had experienced enough. She had been tied up and teased. She had lived her fantasy. It had been fun, interesting, enjoyable, and irritating. But now it was just frustrating and maddening. She wanted the fantasy to end. She wanted to cum. She needed to cum.

“Let me cum. Please let me cum. Slap my ass, pull my hair, do what you want, just let me cum.”

I ignored her and slid two fingers into her slit while I ran my tongue in a circle around her clitoris. Sandra was on the edge, quivering, legs shaking, and pulling hard on her restraints.

“Make me cum. I need to cum.”

I sucked her clitoris into my mouth and flicked the swollen love nub back and forth with my tongue; her back arched; her legs trembled; and she let out a long, deep moan. Sandra was about to cum. I stopped. There was another loud moan of frustration as she fell back down onto the mattress.

“Please. Please. I’m done. Let me cum. Let me cum.”

Her begging was polite, but on the verge of desperation.

Keeping my fingers in her pussy, I began to suck on her clit, taking the engorged orb into my mouth once again and running my tongue over and around it.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck Yes! That’s it! That’s it! Don’t stop! I’m gonna cum!”

I stopped. There was no moan of frustration this time.

“Why did you fucking stop? Let me cum. Let me fucking cum.”

We had passed from the begging, pleading stage into the anger phase.

“Stop fucking around. I need to cum! This is not fun anymore. Let me cum.”

There was frustration, even anger in her voice.

I used my fingers and tongue to bring her to the edge again; then again; then once more. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, under her nose and on her chest. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes. Eye makeup had run down under each eye, giving her a sad clown look. Lipstick had smudged around her lips. Her nose was running as a result of all her heavy breathing.

I let her rest while I went back to playing with her nipples, twisting and pinching each nipple until I thought I may be hurting her.

“Harder,” she demanded, obviously upset and wanting to cum. “I need to cum.”

I ignored her demand and sucked on each nipple until they were a bright red and bruised.

“Harder. Make them hurt. Please.”

I flicked each nipple back and forth with my tongue. As I did, the look on Sandra’s face changed. She began to cry. Frustration and anger poured out of her. Sandra lost control.

“You’re an asshole. What the fuck’s wrong with you? Grow some balls! Hurt my fucking nipples and make me cum! Or do you get off on just teasing? Fuck you!”

The comments surprised me. I understood where it was coming from. Still, what she said had stung.

“Be a fucking man. Make it hurt. Make me cum. Or can’t you fucking do it? You don’t have the balls!” She screamed at me.

I recalled Sandra’s earlier comment about my not being rough enough with her. She had said that it was not a criticism. It was a suggestion; an idea; something we could add to our sex life. That comment had bruised my male ego.

Now it was not just a question of my being rough; she was questioning my manhood; my manliness; my sexual abilities. Intended or not, her outburst hurt.

“Fuck you!” was my first thought. I was wounded and angry.

She wanted me to be a man and make it rough; to make it hurt. I was more than willing to accommodate her.

…………………….

I pinched each nipple between my fingers and thumb, and attached a nipple clip to each.

“Ouch, it hurts. They hurt.”

I ignored her.

I undid the knee restraints, turned her over and slid the square, wood hair brush handle hard into her ass. I didn’t use any lubrication.

“Ouch,” she said, looking back at me with an angry look. “That fucking hurt.”

I grabbed the 8”dildo and slid it into her gaping pussy, fucking her with both toys, slamming each into her holes, thrusting each hard and fast. Sandra screamed and complained that it hurt. But her complaints soon faded into moans of pleasure. I kept up the pace, jamming each toy into her holes.

“Fuck yes! Oh God! “Fuck! Don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!”

Her orgasm came on quickly. She pulled on the rope restraints. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pain and pleasure. Sweat ran off her nose and chin, and ran down her back. Her pussy leaked liquid which splattered in all directions and ran down her legs. Her neck and back arched severely and grossly. Her tits jiggled violently back and forth. Her body jerked and shook. Her asshole contracted around the brush handle. Her pussy lips rippled in spasm.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh…..Ungh! Ungh! Uuuunnnngggghhhh! Uuuunnnngggghhhh!”

It was a long, intense, body rocking, screaming orgasm.

Sandra collapsed onto the bed, moaning and shaking as if she were in an epileptic fit.

I did not give her time to recover.

I pulled her limp body up onto her knees, slid my pre-cum leaking erection into her drenched pussy, grabbed a clump of her hair, snapped her head back, and fucked her cunt hard. Her nectar splattered all over me and her ass, ran down her legs onto the bed covers, and ran down over my balls, dripping off my man sac onto my legs and the bed.

At first Sandra displayed no reaction at all; just a blank stare. There were no sounds; no noise; no words spoken. Then there was a look of surprise. And finally, there was that little, crooked smile of pleasure, and short, low moans, as her eyes remained half closed and she settled into being fucked hard. I pulled on her hair, slapped her ass cheek hard until it was a rosy red, and fucked her doggie until she began to scream.

“Don’t stop! Do not fucking stop! Don’t you fucking stop!”

I massaged her wet asshole with my thumb, circling my thumb pad around her puckered hole. When she began to shake all over, I slid my thumb deep into her ass. She came almost instantly.

“Don’t stop! Don’t…..I’m cuming! I’m cuming! I’m…..”

It was her second intense, bed shaking climax of the night.

I rode Sandra doggie, right through her orgasm and until she fell forward onto her stomach, moaning.

“Fuck yes! Fuck yes! Yes! Yes!”

I turned her onto her back. She was in a full sweat and out of breath. Her hair had come undone from its elastic bands and was spread out on the bed and pillow; long wisps of hair stuck to her face; makeup was smudged under her eyes; her pussy was soaked, as were her inner thighs; her nipples were red and bruised; one nipple clip had fallen off; and her voice was raspy and hoarse.

I was sweating and out of breath. I leaked pre cum in long sticky strands that stuck to Sandra, my thighs and the bed. I was still rock hard and in need of release myself. And I was still hurt and angry.

I slapped each of Sandra’s tits hard, knocking off the remaining nipple clip, and making each mound shake back and forth and jiggle like Jell-O. I slapped each tit again, and again, until Sandra moaned that it hurt.

I squeezed one breast in my hand, making the nipple pop out and turn purple. I grabbed the hard bristle hair brush and ran the bristles over her bruised nipple, pushing the stiff spines of the brush into her areola. Sandra said nothing.

I held her legs bent back with her knees by her ears, and slapped her bare pussy with the flat back of the wooden hair brush, splattering her nectar.

“Ow!” was Sandra’s only response.

I slapped her cunt again.

She grunted, but said nothing about stopping.

I slapped her pussy once more, and then again, and again, making her juices spray and run down her slit and between her ass cheeks.

Sandra’s grunting stopped, her eyes were half closed, and a little smile appeared on her trembling lips.

“Do it again,” she said. “Slap my cunt.”

I slapped her pussy harder. Her body jumped and jerked. She arched her back, pushing her pussy up.

“Do it again. Harder!”

I slapped her slit once again, harder, as requested. Sandra arched her back and rolled slightly to the side. The back of the wooden brush was covered with her sticky fluid.

“Again.” She commanded.

When I slapped her pussy again, she shivered and her body began to shudder.

“Oh God, yes. Fuck, yes! Don’t stop. Do it hard! Do it hard!”

Sandra’s head arched back, a look of extreme pain spread across her face, and her mouth stretched open in a silent scream, as I slapped her bare pussy over and over.

Sandra erupted again, cumming hard, bouncing on the bed.

She fell back onto the bed, exhausted, trying to catch her breath.

Not waiting for her to recover, I got on my knees between her legs and slid my cock easily into her wet, flowering slit. I fucked her love hole for a minute or so, as I rubbed my thumb up and down over her swollen, slippery clitoris. She breathlessly protested, but did so mildly, making few noises or sounds. She weakly clutched at the bed covers with both hands, almost pulling the sheets off the bed. I slammed my cock into her hole, and rolled her love nub back and forth with my thumb. Sandra finally moaned her objection.

“Enough! Enough! No more!”

Her voice trailed off to a low, soft moan. I kept going.

“Oh God! Fuck! No! No! Enough!”

She rolled her head side to side, suddenly arched her back again, and started to violently shake.

“Oh God! Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Sandra came again, using whatever strength she had left to rise up on her heels and shoulders to meet my cock thrusts.

I came close to shooting my load into her as I pulled my shaft out of her warm canal.

I slid the dildo into her still gaping asshole, grabbed the bigger of the two vibrators, turned it on, and held its tip against her clit.

Sweat dripped off my nose and chin. My rod rubbed against Sandra’s leg and ass cheek, and the friction was almost enough to make me cum. My hands and fingers were covered with sweat and her juices, making it difficult to hold the toys. She was covered in sweat, her juices, and my pre-cum, making it hard to hold onto her.

There wasn’t a look of pain or pleasure on her face, just a blank stare.

Sandra lay on her back, hair messy and stuck to her face, tears rolling down her cheeks, nose running, and drool coming out the corners of her mouth.

She said nothing, and just lay there with a little crooked smile on her face, blankly staring at me, with her restrained wrists still attached to the head board. I slid the dildo in and out of her ass and held the vibrator on her clitoris.

“Oh God! Fuck! Fuck!” She whispered as she arched her back slightly and came again.

I slid the dildo out of her ass, but kept the vibrator on her clit until the batteries died. I threw the dead vibrator onto the floor, grabbed the second, lip stick case size vibrator and held it on her clit.

Completely exhausted, Sandra slipped from reality into that place where a woman goes when pleasure overwhelms her being and takes over her soul; where every nerve and fiber is a pleasure organ. She was in that ethereal place, deep in her core, with no awareness of her surroundings. The only thing that mattered now was more sexual pleasure; cumming again; another orgasm. She cared about nothing else.

The fresh batteries of the second vibrator caused such rapid and intense vibrations that Sandra quickly came again, and then again, quietly moaning and shivering, as her pussy ran freely with her juices.

I needed to cum. I put the vibrator aside and stroked my shaft hard and fast, until I reached that point of no return and the release that my body craved. My orgasm went on and on, and to the extent that I had any control at all, I came all over Sandra’s head, face and tits, with a fair amount of cum landing on the head board. It was wonderful; amazing; powerful; intense; and it was raw and painful, as I shot ribbon after ribbon of hot cum all over Sandra’s upper body. I doubt that she was even aware that I had just cum all over her.

I fell back, exhausted, spent, breathing hard and dribbling cum out of my throbbing, listing shaft. Droplets of cum dripped onto my thigh and the bed covers. My balls ached; my cock hurt; the muscles in my arms and legs shook and trembled. Sweat dripped from my nose and chin onto my stomach, legs and the bed.

……………………….

It was like I woke from a dream. Did I just do that?

“More. I want more. More.” Sandra moaned over and over, as I struggled with the knots on the restraint, undid the ropes on her wrists and freed her hands and arms. She lay in front of me, partly curled up, exhausted, sweaty, messy, covered with gobs and lines of cum, her eyes closed, still breathing heavily, and moaning.

“I want more. Please, more. I want more.”

In a strange way, seeing her covered with cum, all messy and still needy and wanting was very erotic and sensual.

“More cum. I want more cum.” She moaned, as she rolled onto her back and weakly reached for my limp cock and tried to tug it.

I leaned forward, held my wilted shaft over her face, and spread every last drop of my seed on her chin and cheeks.

“More. Please. I want more.” She begged as she stuck out her tongue like a baby bird seeking a meal.

I threw the rope remnants on the floor, and pulled the soaked bed covers down, exposing the clean, cool sheets. I moved Sandra onto the sheets and placed her wet head on a pillow. Using the towel, I wiped cum off her face, neck, breasts and hair, and tried, best as I could, to dry her hair.

Stepping out of bed on shaky, weak legs, I shut out the lights and crawled back into bed. I held Sandra close as she continued to shudder and quiver, and moan softly.

We lay in the dark for several minutes. I remember that I was also shaking and that I was scared.

Sleep was fitful. I tossed and turned, waking and falling back to sleep; Sandra did the same, talking in her sleep, although what she was saying was not clear.

……………………….

The morning was awkward.

I woke first, brushed my teeth and took a shower. Much of my body was sore. What would I say to Sandra? How would I explain what had happened?

Sandra came into the bathroom while I was in the shower. Nothing was said, other than a usual morning “Hi”. She showered as I put my pants on and lay back on the bed. Sandra came back to bed wearing only her bathrobe. The good news was that she cuddled up next to me, and I was able to hold her close.

“That was intense last night,” she said. “I’m sore all over.”

It was not said in anger, or even with any misgiving. It was said as a matter of fact, as though her being sore was anticipated, expected, interesting. Sandra’s voice gave no indication that what we had done, what I had done, was anything more than a hand job or a clitoral tongue-lashing.

She showed me her wrists which were red and raw from pulling on her restraints, and exposed her nipples which were both puffy and bruised.

Still, even those physical marks seemed to her to be more badges of distinction than anything bad, deviant.

“I’m sorry.” I said, but my apology hardly seemed to be enough.

“No. I started it,” she said. “I’m sorry for what I said. I know that I pissed you off and I shouldn’t have said it.”

“I went too far. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”I whispered.

Sandra shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it was no big deal.

I lay next to her, quiet, considering what had happened, what I was feeling.

I had lost it. That was clear to me. I had let my male ego and anger at Sandra get to me. I had done things to her that had inflicted real pain; things that I had never done before to any woman. I had wanted to hurt her; to make her pay for what she had said; to hurt her. And yet, my domination of her, the control, and the power I had over her was exhilarating, exciting, thrilling, spine tingling. What I knew deep down, but was hard for me to accept, was that I liked inflicting her pain. I enjoyed hurting her while she was defenseless and tied to the bed.

But how do I tell Sandra what I felt? Will she think less of me because I liked inflicting pain on her? Will she consider me some sexual deviant?

I rolled onto my side, facing her.

“I had a friend Bob who once tied his wife to their bed and did things to her that caused her pain. He liked it….”