When my doorbell rang at 6:30, I opened it eagerly, expecting to see New Guy standing there smiling back, ready to give me a warm hug after three weeks of not seeing each other.
But the man at my door didn’t smile, only stepped in silently, Feeling a bit thrown, I started to wrap my arms around his neck, and he shrugged them off. Then I felt his fist tightening in my hair.
He spun me around, pushing me toward my bedroom. I nearly stumbled on my high heels. Wordlessly, he threw me onto my bed, then flipped me over, pinning both arms behind my back. He rummaged in his bag and next thing I knew, he was tying my hands together. Once that was done, he leaned down and spoke. “Did you really think you could write something like that in your blog and no one would get ideas?”
“Ah… um… I….” I stuttered, and he yanked my hair. “Did you?”
“No…” I murmured. I thought perhaps I could reason with him. “I couldn’t help it,” I cried. “Those pictures… I don’t know, they just did something to me.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, “now I’M going to do something to you.” My legs were bent, my feet tightly curled up under my bottom; he pulled my legs straight, and unceremoniously yanked my leggings and panties down my thighs and off. Then he tied my ankles together.
“Now,” he growled, “you are going to get exactly what you deserve.”
The spanking was hard and fast and ferocious — no warmup here. I squirmed around, but I could barely move, and the ropes bit into my wrists if I pulled too hard.
“Are you scared?”
“You should be. Maybe you’ll be more careful about what you put on your blog, won’t you? Be careful what you wish for.” Then he jerked the rope off my wrists. But before I could sigh in relief, he pulled my hands forward, wrapped the rope securely around my wrists once again and tied the ends to the bedframe just above the caster. He then did the same thing with my ankles, tying them down at the other end.
And then the implements came out of the bag. He brushed them against me, teasing me, tormenting me. I was on sensory overload… yes, it was scary. It was also wildly, almost unbearably arousing.
“Please,” I whimpered, “please…”
“Please what?” he asked. When I didn’t answer, he snapped the strap down hard once, twice, three times quickly. “Please what? he repeated.
“Please…. don’t hurt me,” I whispered. My usual bravado and brattiness had completely disappeared. He was someone I didn’t know, and yet I did. And I was someone I didn’t know, as well.
He leaned down to me once again, his mouth to my ear. “But I want to hurt you,” he hissed. I moaned and steeled myself.
Strap, belt, paddle, another strap… it went on and on. He said little, and I buried my face in the comforter, trying to stifle my yelps. I started crying early on, not necessarily from the pain, but from the surges of emotion. But I couldn’t wipe my nose or push my hair out of my face. I was helpless, at his mercy.
After a while, he paused and spoke again. “I like hurting you,” he drawled, his voice silky. “And you like it too. Don’t you!”
God help me, I did. I loved it. I nodded vigorously, even as I cried. And then he finished me off with ten rapid, heavy paddle strokes. I had to count them.
It was over. He untied me, then sat on the bed next to me, gathering me close. Suddenly, he was New Guy again… sweet, gentle and soothing. He smiled into my face, the menacing look gone. I wept and trembled and clung to him. And through it all, I kept mumbling, “Oh God. Oh my God. Wow… Wow… That was… oh my god, that was sooooo @#$%ing hot…” He laughed. Said he was glad I’d liked it, because he sure did too.
I have been tied up before. But I’d never experienced it like this, as part of a roleplay scene, sprung on me so unexpectedly. It was different. It was rougher than I usually play. But I could do it with him. I could go there. I trusted him. I knew I was safe, so I could fully immerse myself in the fantasy.
And don’t anyone worry about me. Don’t anyone think any of this was too harsh, because I wanted it. Does this look like an abused woman to you?
Didn’t think so. 🙂 I even recovered enough to sass him. Paid for it, of course.
Thank you, my friend, my evil stranger.