Read Part I here: ‘The Preparations’
Sway for me, he purred.
No, not quite a purr. I don’t think that the sight of your lover prostrated on all fours bound to a chair would necessarily make you want to make soft, calm burrings of noise. I wouldn’t consider seeing her behind so vulnerably on view to your eyes, even in the low-key red glowing light of the electric fire to be a cause for the sound a kitten to emulate from your grinning lips. Even if you did happen to have the look of the Cheshire Cat painted on your face.
Sway for me, his voice rumbled from the pit of his chest where dark thoughts tangle.
I tried moving to see how much give he had allowed me – just enough to manoeuvre my hands a little, creating a smidgen of leverage to begin my slow wiggle for him. My hips did indeed sway, left to right and then in a loose figure of eight. I even dared to show how much of a hussy I was feeling like this for him by moving my arse in a circular movement that made my lower back arch. His sharp inhale of breath was all I needed to know I was doing something right. My inhibitions slipped down my shoulders, casting off the silly worries that the day had tried to wrought itself around me. I was almost gleeful when I gave my customary flurry of quick wiggles at the end of this invented routine.
No! Don’t stop…Keep on going.
In one sentence he had managed to combine a plaintive plea and a direct command in his tone. Clever Mister.
You look fucking amazing.
I do like my boy’s compliments.
I drifted into my body’s movements, concentrating on how the lower half of me was being all enticing. I hadn’t really kept my attention on where he was in the room. The clawed surprise ripped a howl from my throat as his nails tore down my back in one entire swoop with both hands, shoulders to the top of my thighs.
He did it again. One handed. The other took a full grasp of my hair and twisted. Hard. My eyes winced and the breath escaped in a hiss through clenched teeth.
He would show me no mercy this night. This set the tone clearly enough after his questionable last words.
Straight in with the whip. No preamble, no warm up with hand. This wasn’t to be a spanking I can manage. It was a flogging.
Jolt. Twitch of my rear. My skin shivered with each taste of the whip. He was being a steady hand. Measured. A few strokes across my behind, one on a shoulder-blade. He kept his left hand in my hair during this stage. A sensation of being drained flushed through me when I had that physical connection with his fingers in my hair, fingertips resting on my scalp. The tension with which he gripped my hair was as though the strands bled onto him all those stains that were blotting me out from him. Purification, cleansing. Hyperbole I imagine, but the release was tangible and very very real to me in that moment.
The sting. Biting kiss of the tassels. He was unrelenting. He drew my head up. A slight grimace on my on face with the sudden movement before the clenched eyes relaxed, opened and stared into his. He had brought his face close to mine. His eyes were on a level with mine. I didn’t look up, he didn’t look down on me. We looked at one another before he tilted my chin up to kiss me. White noise filled my ears as he bit onto my lip. The only sense of control I had was to kiss back as fiercely as he was treating me. The tip of my canine snapped into him, his lips smiled as he caught on to what I was attempting. Tongue tickled against my own then traced my upper lip; that signature Mister move that will make me break the kiss. He wins again.
I was snapped out from the droning buzz in my head with his next stinging swipe with the whip. It was far beyond the usual fare of flogging – the tassels were snapping lower and the ends caught my pussy. Deliberate. Calculated. He had intended to do that. Bastard.
The yelp that he tore from me was the loudest yet. The first breath with that action shook itself out from me, faltering. Shivers. My body had fallen at that. My knees had buckled. He waited a minim out of his rhythm. Paused for me to bring myself back into the position he had put me in. I don’t say anything. I collect my Self together and splay out my hands in front of me on the floor. He delivers another. Same location. Same reaction from me. My yelp was a tiny decibel lower. I was learning. A third swish hits me and the resolve I proudly wore for the first two swipes broke down and my whole body went into auto-pilot and shirked away from him. My voice had let me down and I had let a sob escape my mouth. Those are rare. My muscles fought against the restrictions he had put in place and won out. I had slumped to the side, my hip was resting on the floor now, legs had managed to put themselves together, closed off from him.
Get back here.
His voice was playful, not cruel. His enjoyment I could hear reminded me that I was his toy to move and make dance how he wished. With effort, leaden-limbed, I hauled my frame back into position.
Pleassssse. No. More. There.
Breathe.
Too much. At oncccce.
Smoothing his hand over my arse, a slight pat pat told me he had got the message. Following that, something new. I heard the whip being twirled. The draught across my skin was cooling the increasingly reddened patch that was blossoming on my flesh. He floated the whip he was rotating quickly in his hand over my back as the left hand carried on smoothing, fingers roaming down between my cheeks, gliding over my most vulnerable spot before slipping between the folds of my cunt. Another moment that made me gasp.
I heard him lick my juices off his fingers. He exaggerated the smacking sound of his lips sucking on his fingers to make me notice all the more. I had become so very wet. I hadn’t realised.
He took a walk around me, surveying his own creation. What he saw was a creature brought to the surface in me. My nails were clawing into the carpet through the red throw on the floor. One had found the edge of the throw and was tightly clutching at the frayed fringe of material.
Murmurs of encouragement. Or were they words?
He completed his circuit and kneels down. Again he brought himself to my level. His hands stroked my skin. A change in sensation. He bent to lick the heated skin of my cheeks. A tongue found its way down. Of course he knew what he was doing - fingers catch me, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had told me I was dripping.
Then he fucked me.
In my kneeling position. He had knelt himself on the one knee. As he entered me he had tightened those strong fingers in my hair to emphasise his action. It was one assertive thrust inside my pussy, there would be none of the gentle, tentative nestling of his cock within me. With that final sigh as he claimed me completely I exhaled the last remnant of the lodestone that had been hampering me all of that week and directing my path away from who is most important in my life.
At one point as he shifted, took greater hold of me, both hands now on my hips, I looked back at him under the veil of hair his actions had dressed around my view. What I saw seared itself onto my mind’s eye. An image of Us. As we are to each other.
In the epilogue of this moment in the tale of Mister and I, I couldn’t meet his gaze for a few minutes. He had released me and my immediate need was to slump, curl around his legs as he stood over me. I couldn’t raise my head. It was swimming, yet I was smiling deliriously. That was where I most wanted to be. Centred and grounded. Rooted at his feet. Belonging to Him. My anchor.
Oof, that made me all shivery… And I love the last words. He does really sound like a fabulous guy. Lucky you
x
So unbelievably lucky. I remind myself of this everyday.
LP x
This is wonderful, I’m so glad he can re-anchor you like this.
And girl, don’t I need it!
LP x
Very nice. I could feel every moment. XX
Thanks – good to see you here commenting – hope to see you again soon!
LP
oooo wonderful post sexy lady
kaori xx
Thanks lil’ kitty.
LP x
Very fucking hot
x
Thanks hun!
LP x
Sounds like you really needed this and I’m glad you got it! x
Oh I really did. A lot of my ‘playtime’ is highly theraputic for me.
LP x
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Intense session! In my mind’s eye, I see that you both got exactly what you needed. Beautifully written! I’m stil unsure if you are an erotic writer or an erotic poet. I think about half way in between; a truly fascinating hybrid!
I looked up “Pandorah” and it apparently it is Greek for “All Gifts”. You chose your name well….lucky “Mister”.
Now I have to go open a window, even though it’s snowing outside…..
It was indeed a memorable experience for us both, yes.
Thank you for your kind words, I’m highly flattered. I like to write in a drifting, ‘fae’ kind of way which seems to lend itself to a more…not necessarily lyrical manner of writing, but the words as ever are led by emotion.
And, I do like my choice of name. Deliberate reference to the Grecian ‘Pandora’, but with my own mischievous twist.
LadyP x
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