Archive-name: Bondage/someday.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Someday





     I lay in my bed, resting after my noon swim, listening to

the wind and the rain outside.  Quietly drifting through my

thought is the knowledge that I should be up, some task certainly

awaits my attention, but for the moment I am quiet.  I fall

asleep.  

     Suddenly I am awakened by someone roughly grabbing my right

leg and tying it to the left post of the bed.  I feel my right

leg grabbed and I twist towards him trying to hold him back and

not allow him to tie my leg.  He slaps my face and shoves me back

down on the bed, holding me down with his hand on my back.  He

pulls my arms under me and then his left knee moves to my back to

hold me in place.  As he pulls his belt loose from his pants, I

notice he is still fully dressed.  

     I whimper, it does not take any great foresight to know that

his belt will be used on me.  I cringe what little I can in this

precarious position - my hands are pinned beneath me.  I wiggle

to free one of them as I hear him doubling up the belt.  I turn

towards him and plead for leniency. 

     'Please, be gentle, I meant no harm, I am sorry for my

error', not even knowing what I had done to anger him.  

     He is angry, the deep scowl on his face warns me of that

fact.  He merely grunts and pulls his arm holding the belt back. 

My struggles increase and I close my eyes, not wanting to see the

belt descending.

'



     SLAM, the burning across my upper thighs pulls a scream from

my throat.  

     SLAM, this time across the cheeks of my ass. Once again I

scream, this time following with tears and my whimpers increase. 

I am wiggling as hard as I can still with no success.

     'Hold still' he barks.  My motion stops in hopes that his

will also, but to no avail - as for the third time his belt

cracks across my ass.  As the sting builds, he releases me and I

curl up on my side trying to hide from him.  My hair falls across

my face obscuring it from his view.  I lie there sobbing, trying

not to draw his attention as he gets up from the bed.  My legs

are tied open and I cannot hide from him as well as I would wish;

I scoot closer to the end of the bed trying to pull myself into a

ball.  As I hear him moving around the room I follow him with my

eyes, but as he comes closer to the bed I close them.  He roughly

grabs my hair and pulls my head back to force me to look at him. 

As I slowly open my eyes, his hand slaps my face.  My eyes close

again as I await his next move.

     Silence for awhile.  When he pulled me up I ended up nearly

on my hands and knees.  My eyes are tightly closed and my body is

beginning to feel very alive. 

     'Open your eyes, little girl' he softly purrs.  

     I hesitate for a moment and he slaps me again.  I open my

eyes and look at him - his face only inches from mine seems

carved from stone.  I search his face for clues to his mood and

find nothing.  He watches me and knows my thoughts, sees my body

vulnerable and available to him.  I move my left hand to touch my

face where he hit me and still he watches.  I say nothing, not

only from fear but from total lack of coherency.  I can feel the

throbbing of my ass, my thighs and my face where he has struck

me.  

     I cannot explain the rush of pleasure that begins to pulse

through my body.  I only know it is real and sometimes can be

frightening.  He slowly releases my hair and moves away.  I am

frozen and watch him as he removes his clothing.  He has left the

belt on the bed beside me.  My heart races  I don't know if he

will whip me again and then fuck me or fuck me first.  It is

possible he will wait until I am near orgasm and then whip me,

forcing me to have an orgasm while he hurts me.   

     As he nears the bed, I adjust my position on the bed then

freeze at his harsh look.  My body is beginning to cramp from

holding such an awkward position.  He approaches me with two

scarves.  He gently turns my head away from him and places the

first across my eyes.  

     Darkness fills me, matching the darkness I receive from the

pleasure he gives me.  The pain allows me to roam freely in the

feeling of subservience and submission.  He turns my head towards

him.  I open my mouth anticipating the second scarf and too late

realize that I must never assume anything.  He quickly slaps my

face twice and watches as the hand prints appear there.

     'Now you may open your mouth.'  He stuffs most of the scarf

in, not bothering to tie it, knowing that I would no more spit it

out than untie my legs.  I am utterly his now.  I feel only

anticipation, thinking not even the simplest of thoughts and wait

for him.  I am gagged and only know that I will be whipped

severely.  

     He does like to hear me whimper and scream but would rather

let my body tell him how much he has hurt me.  I have very fair

skin that marks and bruises easily so he has learned to know my

limits by my twitches, struggles and the occasional muffled wail.

     I prefer to be gagged also.  I do not have to concentrate on

limiting the noise I make and I prefer to bite down on something

rather than clench my teeth until they hurt.  I merely bite down

on the gag and only when I am in the deepest grips of pain are

any cries wrenched from me.   

     My minds is drifting now, I await his next move.

     There is a know at the door. He pulls a blanket over me.  It

is the housekeeper, a sour old woman.  I hear her whining and

then hear him telling her I will be available at 3 to meet with

her.  He closes the door behind him.  My body has cooled in anger

and dislike of her, knowing that she would be smug at our 3

o'clock meeting.  

     I hear him rustling around the room opening drawers

obviously searching for something.  I then hear a drawer slamming

and I feel the blanket pulled from my back.  I am very stiff from

holding still and shift just a little.  He pushes me flat onto

the bed, my face getting buried in the fat feather pillow he

sleeps on.  It smells like him as I breath deeply, feeling my

muscles relax, he grabs my hands one at a time and puts a cuff on

them.  I take a deep breath waiting for my neck cuff, but instead

he clamps my hands together behind me across my back.  

     For what seems like hours I hear him standing beside me, his

even breaths accentuate my harsher ones.  I begin to feel my body

come alive as I listen to him, not knowing what will be next.

     Then I feel his weight settle on the bed.  His hand slides

along my back, down between my legs and he touches my clit,

softly rubbing at first then rougher.  He pulls away abruptly and

my body tries to follow him.  Successfully, it seems for he

pushes his thumb inside me, then adds his three fingers one by

one until I am pushing against him thrusting his fingers deeper

into me.  I moan deep in my throat and he pulls away.  My body

arches towards him.  

     It seems as though he was waiting for this movement for

suddenly the belt slams into my up thrust bottom.  I arch my back

in response and bite hard on the gag, but do not lower myself. 

His hand reaches out and softly caresses the mark he left on me,

my body feels alive again, aroused, excited.  I feel his hand

leave my skin and I involuntarily tense, awaiting the next blow I

hope will follow the last.  I quiver with response when the

expected blow arrives.  Again and again the belt finds different

areas on my ass and the tops of my thighs.  

     My hand tied behind me protect my back from his blows, not

that he normally hits me any higher than he is now.  My body is

on fire.  I can feel the edge of my limits, the limit of pain and

sensation flying towards me as he hits me harder and harder.  I

hear him panting now.  I do not know or really even consider if

he is panting from excitement or exhaustion.  He stops as

suddenly as he started. His hands begin caressing the criss

crossed patch of welts on my body.  I almost purr in response, as

I feel the bed lower as he places himself behind me.  I feel his

erection pushing against my cunt.  

     It finds no resistance, easily sliding into my wetness.  His

hands grab me, bringing the pain back to life.  His fingers dig

deeper into my bruises as he begins to slam into my pussy.  I am

very wet, I hear him as well as feel him, the pleasure builds.  I

continue to push back into him, not bashful of the need he has

aroused in me.  I match him stroke for stroke, each slamming,

pushing into the other.  

     He then stops pulls his cock out of me, slaps my butt twice

and then pushes his fully erect cock in to my ass.  I am ready

for this, it is the usual finale to this marvelous act and yet as

always I tense up a little.  His slaps help me relax until we

both feel my orgasm build.  On the next stroke he gets rougher

and then with each following stroke begins to build towards our

mutual release.  My body begins to twitch as my orgasm builds. 

Finally I cum and the muscles surrounding his cock contract and

send him tumbling over the edge at the same time.  

     We collapse to the bed.  He releases my hands and pulls the

gag and blind from my face.  We lie in bed, the quiet broken only

our harsh breathing.  He begins to gently caress me.  I know I

please him, not that he would say it to me, but afterward when he

holds me like this I feel his appreciation.  Or his remarks on

the depth of marks or a particularly colorful bruise are his

thanks to me for being silent.  On rare occasions he will tell me

what a good girl I was for taking so much.  He is so relaxed

after our sessions, so kind and gentle, it is a wonderful

contrast.  I turn towards him and touch him carefully, I love to

feel his strength with my hands after he has demonstrated it on

my body.  

     He begins discussing the days activities, I find out the

original whipping was because he had a business meeting canceled

and had nothing better to do.  After he talks for a bit, he

realizes my legs are still tied and gets off the bed to untie

them.  This is my signal that it is time to get to work, time to

organize the days activities, supervise the workers and make the

house run.  I wait eagerly for the dark, the coming of night when

we will be back in our room , away from the rest of the world and

its responsibilities.  

     Who is this man? obviously a husband, the period could be

virtually any time from the mid 1700's to the present.  Although

the feeling is always one where it is expected of me to be in the

home, seeing to my family's needs, serving my husband, but

something of the present fills me, the acceptance of my

submission to my husband seems to be a choice rather than

societies dictate.  I cherish that feeling, whenever I am with

someone now and feel, even for a moment, dominated and respected

for being that other half.  I save those moments, they find their

way into my fantasies, I treasure their presence and am always

seeking more.  He is out there, a man who wants a submissive

wife, yet understands that I can also be aggressive and

challenging.  I want to be not only his lady, but a woman to be

used for his pleasure, a woman who deserves and wants nothing

more than to be whipped and fucked - fulfilling both of our needs

and releasing the tensions the world can cause. 



--