After dinner, we talked, cuddled, chilled. Then he turned to me, “Take your clothes off”.
The tone told me he was serious. I stood up and slipped off my skirt, followed rapidly by the rest of my clothes. Practicality attempted to rear its head.
“I need the toilet” I pointed out, reasonably.
“Perhaps” he said evilly. He turned and left the room, I heard distant noises as he went to a cupboard, and returned with a large plastic bowl which he placed on the floor. I regarded it in horror.
“You can use that” he commanded.
I knew better than to try to argue. I went and squatted awkwardly over the bowl feeling horribly self-conscious and attempted to perform. I closed my eyes as I sought to relax my muscles.
“Look at me” he demanded.
I opened my eyes and gazed at him, as I tried to concentrate on my body my eyes dropped. Again he insisted on my attention. Finally, my eyes fixed on his, my body cooperated and I felt the relief as my bladder emptied. He handed me paper to wipe with. I did so, feeling more humiliated by his regard than ever.
After clearing it away, I was sent upstairs to the bedroom where he soon followed me.
With twisted humour he sent me back downstairs again to fetch two pegs. I returned, all too full of foreboding.
He ordered me onto all fours, and proceeded to attach the pegs to my nipples. They were mercifully gentle, but I knew more was to come. He proceeded to spank me. His hand setting up an insistent rhythm. I let it take me away, living in the moment. As I struggled with the pain I sagged under the blows.
“Tell me when you’ve had enough of my hand” he insisted in a tone which left me sure worse was to follow. I debated internally how much bravery to show.
“I’ve had enough” I admitted.
He fetched the crop then, and told me there would be ten strokes, I was to be in the same position for each one. He began then, in a steady rhythm, not too fast. Each stroke, with power behind it, first on the left, and then the right. That made it easier to take, and I held firm for several strokes before collapsing downwards.
Breathing hard, I was aware of him waiting patiently above me. I could delay the remaining strokes indefinitely, all I had to do was lie still. I wondered briefly if I could avoid the remaining strokes entirely by refusing to resume my position. Even as I thought it, I realised how much I would hate such an outcome.
I forced myself back onto my hands and knees, eager to complete this challenge. The last few strokes were delivered evenly. I felt the burning in my bottom, and wondered what more was in store.
He pushed me down now, so I lay on my front.
He moved behind me, forcing my legs apart, and kneeling between them. His hand ran up my thigh, his fingers swirling in the dampness between them. I shuddered at his touch, knowing he could tell how turned on I was by everything he had done.
I felt his cock then, pushing into my pussy. His body over mine pressing against the soreness in my bottom.
“Push your ass up to me” he ordered.
As I did so, I felt him go deeper, and I cried out helplessly at the total penetration. His pounding intensified, and I struggled to hold position. I felt his urgency, and pushed back eagerly until I felt him cum inside me, crying out with his pleasure.
I collapsed downwards now. Him lying on me, sated.
Then he withdrew, and lifted his weight off me. His hand snaked between my legs, as I lay there, with such little touches needed until I too was crying out with delight.
Our needs met, we snuggled together, and settled down to sleep.