Our camping site was simple, the area completely remote. We were close to a crystal clear pond, and, given the heat, we only had a groundsheet stretched between poles under a canopy of trees as our tent. Another, bigger groundsheet was spread on the floor with some pillows scattered for comfort. Everything else was suspended from the trees in two special gauze boxes that we lowered and raised on ropes to keep it clean and relatively insect and snake free.

It was a private little Garden of Eden, lush and isolated, and we were totally, completely alone. The sounds of nature were joyously loud, from the far-away gentle rushing of the river that fed the pond to the more mysterious rustlings in the grass. Around us birds and insects celebrated their lives heartily in a number of discordant choirs that merged into soothing beauty.

What wasn’t so simple was my relationship with you or the way you were rather firmly and nakedly tied up to the four sturdy poles of our canopy. You’d seriously pissed me off, and it was time for a little reality adjustment - yours. You didn’t realise how badly you’d upset me and nor did you have an inkling of what was going to happen here, but I had planned this very, very thoroughly. Of course I was nervous about my plans as I was going to be crossing some questionable moral boundaries, but sometimes ‘a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do’.

You’d been tied up there for quite a while already as I’d been pottering around the camp. I had made sure you’d gone to the toilet and had something to drink before I’d tethered you, all very subtly of course. Once bound, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hey Noal, it’s so hot. Can I get you something cool to drink while we still have ice?” It sounded so natural and caring, not the prelude to an unexpected bit of torture at all, did it? And a little later:

“It’s so hot it’s making me hot. I’ve got special plans for you.” This was said with my best flirtatious look, and it was true as well, I did have special plans for you. “Take off your clothes babe. No, no touching yet. Spread your arms and your legs.” You didn’t argue when you saw the rope, it just made you more eager. After all, it was one of our favourite games and we seldom had enough time to indulge it. To your mind, this camping expedition was starting off pretty well.

“I’ll be back soon,” I assured you as I drifted off to get the ice box and make sure it was in deep shade. Your eyes are following me everywhere eagerly, thinking that soon things are going to be going your way.

I positioned myself between your legs so that you could see me well, and then stripped off my top and shorts. Running an ice-cube over my face, my nape and my neck I felt it trickle down in little rivulets over my shoulders and breasts. The high temperatures were almost unbearable, but the ice still managed to leave some damp trails on my bra before it evaporated.

The next piece of ice was trailed over my stomach, right up to my bra and then down again, circling my bellybutton a time or two before dipping ever so slightly into my pantie-line. It felt like heaven. You must also have been hot so I approached you with a piece of ice, but didn’t trail it over your body as I did mine. Instead I popped it into your mouth then returned to my old position, shrugging off my bra and panties, and continued to ice myself down running another quickly melting cube over my neck, chest and nipples. It felt deliciously cool, gorgeously chilling on my hot little nipples.

Your body was reacting eagerly to my little show despite the fact that I was mostly ignoring you and just concentrating on myself. Satisfied with the results I was achieving, I blew you a little kiss, grabbed my towel and sashayed over to the pond for a dip.

“Brenda, what the …?” you call after me.

“Just going to cool off,” I toss back. You were irritated now, but kept quiet, probably thinking it would be worth your while a little later if you were patient. In fairness, to you, being patient is one of your strengths.

I took my time, enjoying the contrast of temperatures; the feel of the hot sun beating down on me in the icy mountain water. Thinking of temperatures I started to grin. Oh yes, today was going to be a day of contrasts, a real yin and yang day.

Playing in the water, chasing glimmering fish I had no hope of catching, I kept myself distracted for a reasonable time before I eventually made my way back towards you, naked, dripping wet and feeling just a little smug as I looked at how pretty you looked there, all tied up.

“What’s up babe,” I teased. You weren’t trying to hide how irritated you were any more. I sauntered over to you, being considerate, and shook cold drops of water from my hair all over you to help cool you down. Somehow that just pissed you off more.

“This isn’t funny Brenda. I’m not in the mood for this. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Untie me. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Sorry, babe, but that’s not gonna happen.” I looked you straight in the eyes when I said that and you saw for the first time that there was something else smouldering in mine, a real anger.

“You’re not still cross about the fight are you? This is ridiculous. Get over it. We’re supposed to be having a good time together, instead you’re messing everything up.”

“Noal, darling,” I said as I allowed you to see what I had just picked up from a special little box I’d brought with me; it was a roll of broad micropore tape. “You see, the thing is I’ve had enough of your opinion. Now we’re going to make sure you listen to me for a change.” I managed to get the tape sturdily over your mouth, but not without some effort. Your eyes had never glared quite so viciously at me before and I must admit I felt real fear then that my plans might backfire on me, but I wasn’t going to retreat into old habits now.

“Look, truth be told, I’m partially to blame,” I explained to you. “I’ve taken the easy way out by allowing you to make decisions about my life, but it has to stop now. You have to understand that I’m your equal in this relationship or we’re doomed to failure because in the long term I can’t accept anything less. Don’t worry babe, it might hurt, but I promise you, you are going to enjoy this – eventually.” Strangely my words didn’t seem to pacify you, but I ignored that.

With the tape over your mouth I couldn’t give you another piece of ice, but fetched the ice box anyway and start the whole process of cooling myself down again. I had a different plan for this next piece of ice and sucked on it, enjoying it as if all the pleasure I could ever get was centred in that little piece of frozen water. Oops, it wasn’t melting. I saw the instant you realised why that was: your eyes widened in shock and you tried to say something that was muffled behind the tape.

“No babe, you’re right. It’s not ice; it’s a very well-chilled glass butt plug. Now the big question is ‘to lube or not to lube?’. It all depends on how good you are.” I carried on a completely polite, emotionless and easy one-sided conversation with you as if I was asking you how many sugars in your tea. I watched as you tried to consciously settle down. You didn’t think I’d hurt you, but then you never thought I’d be doing any of this to you. I returned my attention to the glass as I thought about it, taking my time to decide quite how far you needed me to go. As I considered, I abstractedly ran another piece of melting ice over myself. I hardly even noticed as a few cool drops dripped onto your legs. I dropped the glass plug back into the ice box as I reconsidered, and then rummaged through for something else.

I iced myself from elbow, into my sensitive armpit ... and lower. You watched, fascinated; your arousal reviving, as your anger visibly flagged. You were giving yourself up to me, submitting to the punishment you had earned and deserved. I took another dip into the ice-box and removed another piece of ice – yes, real ice. Every time my hand dipped in there, you tensed, knowing that eventually it wouldn’t be the ice that was going to come out. Another trip to the ice box .... another block of ice.

Eventually your fear was realised and I did dip into the icebox to take out the little glass phallus. Your eyes grew wide again. It didn't look so big to me, why did it seem big to you? I poked my tongue out cheekily, licked it from bottom to top, and then, mercifully for you, returned to the ice-box for the bottle of lube I had kept as cold as your soon-to-be penetrator. Ahh - my thoughtfulness.

I lubed it liberally. I hadn't touched you sexually at all and you had been bound there for over three hours, but still your hard-on speared up, and you lifted your groin as much as you could to help me access your nether hole. I was not gentle, but neither was I rough. I inserted it firmly and steadily until your hole swallowed its icy guest the same way the tape was swallowing your moans. The burn didn't stop now; it carried on and on and on as the cold penetrated your anal muscles: burning, clenching, radiating bliss. I saw the pleasure-pain and how you embraced it in your eyes. And still it burned: on and on and on.

Sitting down between your legs I began aimlessly rifling through my little box of tricks, my woman’s secrets. Aahh that looked interesting: a thin little silk rope, red and not much thicker than a tapestry needle. I played with it, idly knotting the ends together so that I had a loop that I could hook and weave between my fingers. You sometimes felt my breath on you, sometimes my hair trailing on your legs or your groin as I concentrated intensely, weaving the little cord rope between my fingers.

The burning in your butt had settled now, leaving just a feeling of fullness in its wake, even a little discomfort as you are lying on your back.

I was aware of it, but didn’t mention that or anything else to you. I just sat there, seemingly in my own world, and wove my fantasies in my head as I wove the patterns in my hands.

In my abstraction I did notice when you started deflating again. It wasn’t much fun for you, lying there almost completely immobile. Knowing you, I knew that the hardest for you was not to have your words, not to be able to convince me to walk your path as you were so skilled at doing. I had thought long and hard through many plans for you for today, and had discarded many, but the tape remained constant, a non-negotiable for that reason. I had to have it to stay focussed until we had redressed our balance of power.

I continued to weave my cord as you watched me, patience thinning quickly. You were nearly at your limit I realised smugly whilst I was not yet close to mine. I continued playing child’s games with the cord – over this finger, back to that one, creating intricate little patterns, then clearing them and starting again … and again … and again

Eventually, unable to hold out any longer, you grunted at me, really angry now. I casually looked up and saw the fire your eyes were spitting. ‘Don’t you understand punishment babe? Your requests aren’t important here.’ I calmly returned to my weaving, ignoring you. Now I’m not the only one pissed: you grunted again, determined to get my attention, but your anger had escalated. I didn’t even look up, just carried on weaving as if nothing else mattered. You were so distracted by trying to communicate with me that you didn’t notice my little fabric I had woven slip over your balls – but, fuck!, you did notice as I pulled it tight and squeezed until your balls tried to burst through the holes in my woven instrument of torture.

Suddenly you remembered. Remembered that I was actually pissed and you weren’t in any position to try to negotiate with me. Your groan now sounded a little like a whimper, but you forced yourself to relax, and as you did, so did the pressure on your balls, a reward for obedience.

I had discovered a new game now, although you realised I’d planned it all along and you’d fallen neatly into my trap. I was in control here and you were starting to learn what that meant.

Your penis was no longer flagging – oh no babe, it was waving itself frantically straight, the only part of yourself you couldn’t relax through force of will. And as it begged for attention, I generously gave it some, weaving my red cord around it in pretty patterns, then pulling it tighter, capturing you in its hard-soft silk, stretching you as I slipped it over your circumcised top and then started all over again – a new pattern. Sometimes it moved from your cock back to your balls, but always the same – the patterns, the incredible stretching – and then … bereft, nothing, until I started again. But always, always, you felt my breath, as I leaned over you and worked so carefully.

After aeons of the same game, I again turned to fiddle in my little box looking for new distractions. Ah, a blindfold. I took it out and you allowed me to slip it over your eyes without any resistance. As I did, in those last seconds, I saw your fear. We’d used all these toys before, but not in the way I had today. As you lay there, tied up all day, I’d given you lots of time to test the possibilities of what could happen in your mind, but you could only test them against the known, and our previous relationship had given you no reason to suspect this side to me. What you didn’t know babe was that I had hidden depths and new toys! Fear was good, fear was justified, and fear meant we were almost there: you wouldn’t ever underestimate me again.

Eyes blind, you sharpened your other senses. The sounds were more clearly in focus – the birds, the beetles, the rustling in the leaves all around us. You felt how the air was cooling. Try as you did though, you didn’t hear a sound from me. You didn’t dare try to attract my attention, so you waited for me to take the game forward. As I had taught you these last few hours, you waited on my convenience.

You flinched as my wet, icy cold hands touched your outer thighs, guiding you to lift your buttocks. You did as far as you could and felt a pillow slipping under you. The relief, just to have that pressure on your aching butt soften a bit. If you were really lucky, it might be time to remove the plug; its pressure was becoming intense.

And yes, I did touch it, and slowly, tantalising slowly, I edged it out of you. You tried to push it out faster with your muscles, but I stopped you. Control, I had absolute control and you submitted. I forgave you and continued to gently pull on it. Once it is half out, I changed tactics, pulling it quickly, and watched your surprised little rosebud gape for a second and then clench closed again in relief. You couldn’t contain your muffled moan or the twitching of your arrogantly flying flagpole.

Your legs must have been aching; your groin muscles had been pulled apart for agonising hours, your shoulders tightening in protest at the extended time in one position. ‘I couldn’t carry on much longer, could I?’ you must have been thinking. But you didn’t know this me – you didn’t know what I’d do. I hadn’t touched you, hadn’t kissed you, and hadn’t treated you like anything but an object, a toy. I moved away again and you heard something, a knife on a cutting board?

Then you smelt it; you knew that distinctive smell. From the sounds you thought you were prepared for this one. You thought you understood where I was going again and my limits of how far I’d push you. As soon as I became predictable, you became safe again in your mind, so you relaxed. You thought this fresh chilli might be rubbed on both your nipples as we’d done before. You knew it would continue to to stimulate you long after my touch was gone. You also knew I wouldn’t touch it anywhere else, too thoughtful of your comfort.

But nothing touched you until I pushed the again freezing cold glass plug back into its old home, and god did that burn, although, predictably and thankfully, it was just ice and not chilli burn.

Then I started your all-over body massage with the chillies mashed into the carrier oil, starting on your arms, rubbing, kneading and coating everywhere. I spent extra time plying it in the well-aired hairs under your arm, making sure I reached all the tender skin there. I worked down your neck, and over your chest taking care to rub the raw chillies on your nipples, capping them and then pressing the chillies down on the hardened little nubs. And lower, over your groin, along the tight sinews at the juncture of your legs, perfunctorily up and down your penis and balls and down your legs, behind your knees, all the way to your feet giving the little spaces between your toes special attention.

Standing, I left you alone again for a few dark moments to test the contrast between the icy burn in your butt and the hot burn on the rest of your body. Is there a difference babe, between hot and cold? Your weeping cock seems to think they’re the same. Do you feel how they’re different, but how they both burn? Feel the yin and yang, baby. Learn about the different ways to reach the same place.

It was time to test your obedience. I took a firm grip on the micropore plaster I’d used to close your mouth: it’s got a rather strong adhesive, so I pulled hard and fast. You sighed, pursed your lips in relief but didn’t say a word. Ah, obedience. I like obedience.

I moved to your other end, and gently removed the butt plug again. I saw you were starting to relax, thinking I was ending your torture. You knew I wouldn’t really hurt you, but you hadn’t been quite sure. You even reckoned you knew what would happen next: you’d eventually get the release you have been dying for for so long, and this would go down as of the best and kinkiest sex you’d ever had. You were actually quite proud of it before it’d even ended as you plotted through the scenarios. I could see your thoughts flitting through your muscles as I watched them actively relax, so you were expecting it as I slid up between your legs, my naked breasts and not my mouth wrapping your cock were a slight surprise, but not an unwelcome one. As I slid higher up you, you felt in control again despite being bound: you felt you knew me and my limits. You felt safe…

Until you felt the hard, cold, slippery head of the strap-on I had donned pressed up against your hole, the access made easy by the pillow under you. Until then, you thought you knew me. At first you fought, but there was nowhere to go, and when you relaxed, when you really gave up control, I slipped so easily into your well prepared hole, and started to ride you in slow gentle glides up and down your almost-virgin ass.

My stomach and the leather straps massaged your cock the same way the dildo stimulated your butt, scraping across your overstimulated prostrate. It didn’t take you long, seconds, and I didn’t think of holding you back. I knew you were experiencing the most painfully aware orgasm of your life that it would go on and on. It would be something you would never, ever forget – along with the lesson accompanying it. Your cum spewed everywhere between us, but this once, I didn’t taste it, I just softened the ride until I gently slipped out and went off to clean myself whilst you lay there, drying in the warm breeze, completely replete.

When I returned a few minutes later, I wiped you down with the damp facecloth, unfastened your aching limbs and loosened the mask, allowing you a little time for your eyes to adjust to the bright light. This time, eyes deeply locked, love and forgiveness in both, we kissed. It was a kiss of knowledge, of love, and of a mutual respect for untapped depths. I had enacted your fantasy but without your permission. In future I would do other things without your permission too, and you accepted that now, embraced it.