Scene: Control

When I walk in, kiss me and ask how my day was. Help me take my jacket off as we talk. Offer me a cup of tea, which I will decline. Let me notice that the lights are slightly dimmed, intended to set me at ease. Keep talking to me as you sit me down and help me take my shoes off, your hands running up my legs ever so often. When I've been divested of the pesky things, stand me up and lead me by the hand to the bedroom, where I notice that you've set the temperature a little warmer than usual, again for my comfort. Kiss me, slowly, again. Ask me to stand quietly by the bedside, then unbutton my shirt slowly and carefully, your eyes watching mine, my eyes following your hands. Take it off, fold it and set it aside, then make me turn around, facing away from you. Ask me if I'm ready. Wait for my silent nod before unsnapping my bra and laying it atop my folded shirt.

Sit down on the bed and beckon me over to stand beside you with my hands extended in front of me, and bind them together to reinforce that I have no control over the events that follow. Bend me over your lap, adjusting my limbs until you're happy with my position. Make me stretch my arms out above my head so that they're out of the way.

Run your hand over my ass, taking your time to enjoy it, squeezing and gripping it as you please, until my back loses its stiffness and I begin to accept the situation I'm in. Rebuke me gently for enjoying this; force me to acknowledge that I am at your mercy and then, to really rub it in, make me say out loud just how much that turns me on. Right in the middle of my halting words, start to spank me - slowly and playfully at first. Take your time to make me twitch a little before establishing a rhythm, distributing your blows so that you don't hit the same spot twice in a row. Keep your other hand firmly resting on my back so that you can feel it every time I jerk in response to your strokes, and use it to make me stay still so that I am reminded again that I have no option but to take the punishment being meted out to me - and to take it well.

When you've warmed up my behind and I am squirming silently in your lap, yank my pants down partway down my thighs, leaving nothing between your palm and my bare ass but my thin panties. After a few moments of running your hands over the hot skin, resume your ministrations, this time laying your palm flat against my ass, outlining your target before you hit it. When I start to cry out, growl a warning at me, demanding silence, with the threat of further punishment hanging over my head if I disobey. We both know that you enjoy every little twitch and jump, every moment of tension in my muscles just before your hand comes down, every little sigh as the sting makes itself felt across my aching flesh. We both know that this is making me wet and ready, and you, hard.

Just when I think you're ready to give me a break, grab my hair and yank my face up to give it a sharp slap, just hard enough to sting and to make the fires smouldering behind my eyes roar to life. Watch me moan in response, my nipples stiffening even further, holding myself up on my bound hands, my crotch still draped over your lap, beginning to grind ever so slowly - and almost unconsciously - against your hardness. Slap my face lightly a few more times, back and forth, and feel my instinctive grinding pick up pace.

Make me get up, then, my hands still bound in front of me, and strip me down to nothing, carefully piling up my folded clothes. I will be breathing hard, eyes starting to glaze over, and you will see that I am wet. Smile as the smell of my wetness wafts up to your nostrils. Call me a dirty little whore, slapping my cunt lightly, making me jump and moan some more. On the pretext of tying my hair up, spin me around and blindfold me, making sure I can't see a thing. Let your hands roam over my body, my ragged breathing loud in the quiet room. Play with my nipples, my breasts, my neck, my back, stopping each time I squirm, resuming only when I hold still for you. Very slowly, and very delicately, pinch each of my nipples, then attach a weighted clamp to it, increasing the pressure till I gasp in pain. Step back to admire your work, then lead me out of the room by the throat, owning every inch of my body with that grip as I take one faltering step after another. Direct me to bend over, and feel me shiver as I realize that I'm being draped face-down over the back of your couch, my arms extended in front of me, my clamped nipples grazing the hard upholstery, my legs spread shoulder-width apart, my ass in the perfect position for a sound hiding.

Ask me, quietly, to open my mouth, then unceremoniously shove my wet panties in to muffle my cries. Hand me two pieces of cutlery - a spoon and a fork, I think - and tell me in careful, measured tones that if it gets too intense, all I have to do is throw them to the floor. Wait for my nod, whisper, "good girl," and give me a kiss on my neck before stepping away. Leave me there to contemplate my situation while you prepare the next instruments of my torment. Put on some low, rumbling music - the kind that you know will help me start to float through the pain to come - just loud enough to drown out sharp cries, but not loud enough that I can't hear your instructions.

As the strains of Massive Attack's Teardrop fill the room, ask me if I'm ready, your left hand resting at the small of my back. When I nod affirmation, remove your hand, and as I tense in expectation of pain, sink your teeth into the flesh of my ass, nipping at the tender spots and laving them with your tongue. Smile as I squeal, sharply smacking me to make me stop fidgeting - eliciting another, smaller squeal, followed by shuddering obedience. Spend a few moments running your hands up and down my legs, dipping your fingers into my warm cunt, letting me know that you plan to leave me dripping, bruised and used. Just as I start to buck against your fingers, withdraw them, then let me feel the bite of leather as you start to whip me with my own belt, at first taking short swipes at my ass, then letting the length of it whistle through the air to leave behind bright red imprints on impact. Remind me that my screams can't be heard by anyone, allowing me to unleash them without a thought. Alternate between the top of my butt and the sensitive flesh at the meeting of my ass and thighs, making me jump and almost dance at your will. I will yell in pain, but my grip on the spoon and fork will only tighten until my nails are digging into my palm. After a while, take the flogger that I had so mischievously brought with me the first time we played, and use it to raise welts across my tender skin, sharp stinging replacing the dull burning of the belt. Use it on my butt, my thighs, my legs, my back and my outstretched arms, merciless and consistent in your pace. Let the welts criss-cross my skin until the pattern pleases you. When my little screams have blended into one long wail, pause to gently massage some life back into my aching muscles, remarking over my noises on how my ass is glowing with heat and how hard it makes you to see that. Sit down, pour yourself a drink, and wait for the groans to subside to ragged gasps before stepping back up to me with an ice cube in each hand, running it over the now dearly sensitive flesh as I cry out in delirium through my gag, not sure if I want you to stop or keep going or fuck me or kill me. The choice will not be mine, in any case, as you remind me when your icy fingers reach down to play with my hot, steamy cunt. Talk to me as your fingers reach deep inside me, telling me how well I've taken my punishment, how beautifully I've been your little pain slut, your other hand stroking my hair. As I calm, give me one last surprise, your fingers tightening in my hair as you spear me with your hard cock and begin to fuck me from behind.

Make me scream into the gag as I quiver around you, the music just loud enough to cover the sound. Grant me no quarter, even as I begin to weep and clench and my legs start to shake from the pleasure and strain of holding myself up. Pull me up and tell me to place my weight on my hands, deftly removing the clamps that have made my nipples so sensitive that the slightest touch of your fingers on them feels like fire and ice. Hold me tight to yourself, one arm across my chest and the other grabbing at my hip, and fuck every last breath out of me until you finally explode with a roar, your hands twisting in my skin in that intensity, hard enough to bruise it.

As you collapse onto the couch to catch your breath, gently lay me down beside you, cradling my limp, exhausted body in your arms as you first take out the gag, then untie my hands and finally push the blindfold out of my eyes. I will still be coming down from the high that you transported me to, so I will clutch at you like a life-raft, my head against your shoulder, my parched lips tickling your neck. Stroke my hair and give me water in mouthfuls, whispering encouragements and praise, until I finally blink and smile at you, back in my own body and mind at last.