Lurid Fantasies

I am prone to lurid fantasies that are way beyond what I know I can or ever could tolerate should they ever come to be acted out in real life. So when such phantasms begin to inhabit the pathways in my mind, they frighten me. I am inclined to not give voice to them. However, sentencing them to the darkness and the silence does not make them go away -- it feeds them and strengthens them... Until I am helpless with the sheer power of them.

This one has been riding my dreams for a bit now...

"Get up. Go. Find the nipple clamps and come kneel at the side of the bed here next to me." The voice that drives my whole life, drags me, this day from a sound sleep. It is hours before dawn.

I shiver. He knows how I despise the cold. Naked, I obey. I crawl from the warmth of the blankets, away from the comfort of His embrace and search through the drawer where the "toys" are kept. Soon, I find the nipple clamps and return, as commanded, kneel beside Him at the side of the bed, offering the clamps to Him in silence.

Wordlessly, He begins to knead my breasts, cupping them in His hands and squeezing roughly. He pulls and pinches my nipples, twisting and turning them, eliciting gasps as I close my eyes and try to calm my breathing. "Hands behind your head," He tells me. "Eyes on me." I open my eyes and focus on His face, as He continues to torment my already tender nipples. He watches me intently, seeing my passion, and my submission grow. When He judges I've come far enough, He stops and reaches for the clips. First one, then the other, He snaps them into place with a sudden and breathtaking intensity on my throbbing nipples. My hands never move and my eyes stay fixed on His.

"Stand up."

I rise to my feet in front of Him, and He reaches between my legs to feel the heat rising in my sex. Pushing my legs apart, He begins to smack my cunt with sharp, hard swats of his open hand. I gasp in surprise and jump to protect myself. "What are you doing?" The question cuts into my consciousness. "Get back in position," He commands.

I whimper in fear, but know there are no alternatives. He will have what He will have from me. Controlling the urge to deny Him, I return to the position He requires and the spanking resumes. Steady and sharp, the smacks land on my tender pussy lips. Not softly. Not gently. Not building easily. These are the blows of one who owns and intends to make that ownership felt and deeply known.

I grunt and moan and sob. Ultimately, I beg, pleading for it to stop -- please, please, please...

And then it is over. For just a moment. He cradles my shaking, sobbing, utterly spent frame in His strong arms...

And guides me...

Into the stocks. Locking me in place. Head and hands and feet. Stroking my back and butt and thighs and neck. Crooning His love and pleasure and delight in me. Telling me how proud He is of me... just before the cane falls and falls and falls again.

swan