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Thoughts of Submitting to You

A BDSM Love Story in 500 Words
As I gripped the edges of the table with my hands, and waiting for his next move, my mind emptied of everything save for one question. “How did I get here?”

My arms were stretched wide, my hands holding onto the thick smooth edges of the table of my own volition. My face was pressed against the hard unyielding wooden surface, the silken blindfold shaped to the contours of my cheeks, cutting out any light. I was reliant on my other senses and I strained to hear the slightest noise, the quietest whisper.

I was bent over at my waist; my ankles had long been pushed far apart by his insistent thigh pressing in between my legs, his hand massaging my buttocks, persuading, bending my body to his will. My ankles were now tied to the table legs; I was his captive, unable to go anywhere; my body was entirely his, for his enjoyment.

Had I had a choice but to submit? Always. But I was enthralled, enrapt, my heart held captive by his, what we did together, the bond we shared. My willing submission was a gift I happily gave and he took my gift with the gratitude of someone who knew what it truly meant. And he nurtured this gift; my moans and groans as he inflicted torment and torture, pleasure and pain, on my eager, sometimes traitorous body, always pushing my boundaries, never going further than we agreed.

I waited now, waited for him to touch me. Perhaps it would be a caress, so gentle. His fingertips would graze gently over my skin, firing off every neuron as they made contact. Perhaps he would pinch and massage my flesh, making me moan for more, try to push past my bonds and press my body into him.

Or most likely, he would spank me, starting gently and building up to toe-curlingly painful, blindingly hard wallops that would make me cry but which my body would translate into a spreading glow of warmth and euphoria.

I would miss the pain; miss the release when he didn't spank me regularly. I would beg him to spank me; I think he enjoyed the begging nearly as much as the act itself, knowing that it was me passing him the control, asking him to take over, to give me what I wanted, needed, craved.

I wasn't always this though, this willing masochist, I used to be normal, ordinary, a plain Jane with a plain Jane life. The thought of being spanked was an idea that sparked in my head but one that got pushed to the dusty unloved corners of my imagination, knowing that it would never be fulfilled and therefore was to be ignored.

I never thought I’d meet someone who could dominate me so entirely but so gently, someone who knew my innermost thoughts and desires and rather than running away, turned them into reality and took my breath away. I didn’t realise that I’d meet someone and fall in love and see my life turn upside down.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright (c) 2013 Anna Sky. All rights reserved. If you would like to use this story on your website, please contact me first.



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