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Every sinew was stretched. Her back delicately arched and her shoulders screamed with silent tension as they surrendered to the demands of the rope. One limb, one corner. The four poster bed dominated the space. Its place, dead centre, gave the room its purpose. There would be no resting here, no hiding. The perimeter of the room was a walkway around that bed and tonight, she was the exhibit.

“Would you like to play a game, my sweet?”

She watched him, warily. He’d paused at the foot of the bed, directly in front of her splayed wet pussy. He hadn’t even touched her yet, other than tying the bonds.

“What kind of game?”

He chuckled and continued his circling.

“One I think you will like...” His voice floated from somewhere behind her head.

She sighed.

“Okay,” she agreed, quietly.

Why bother? She’d long since given up the pretence of wholesomeness where he was concerned. He’d taken her vanilla, missionary sensibilities and torched them with the flame of the first candle he’d used to melt the wax he’d then dripped on her breasts, drop by sizzling drop. When he’d finally stuck the remaining candle in her dripping snatch and fucked her to an ear-shattering orgasm, she’d accepted the pain had been a turn on as much as anything else.

“This game… it’s a numbers game. Do you like to play the odds?”

He was pacing slowly, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his perfectly sculpted mouth. She loved that mouth, knowing intimately what it was capable of. He glanced over at her, eyebrow cocked.


“Twist,” she smirked, and his eyes flared. She found physical submission much easier than mental. That, he had to earn.

“Excellent choice,” he said softly, stopping once again between her outstretched legs. “The rules are simple. Five smacks to that wet cunt, followed by five seconds of me rubbing that needy clit. Five seconds of rest time, then it starts all over again.”

She waited. There was always more.

“If you cum from the pain, I’ll eat that tasty cunt until you’ve lost count of how many times I’ve sent you over the edge.”

She shivered.

“And if I cum from the pleasure…?”

He smirked right back at her.

“I have a friend who’s been longing to meet you. If you cum from the pleasure, he’ll be here exactly one hour after you climax.”

She glared, defiantly. He’d been hinting for a while he wanted to share her and she’d always demurred, but she hated backing down from a direct challenge.

“Deal,” she agreed quietly. God help her.

No longer distracted by his words, she became aware of just how wet she was. Bound, there was no hiding it. What was the point anyway? They both knew what he did to her – it was why she kept coming back for more. He’d taken everything she’d thought she knew about herself and thrown it out the door, replacing it with a wanton needy slut she sometimes barely recognised. She couldn’t thank him enough.

He leaned down low over her pussy, inhaling. She squirmed as he studied her. Her clit was protruding proudly, inviting the torment.


The first blow made her hiss a breath in and the following four did nothing to diminish the fire that spread across her cunt. His touch was steady and measured, and he wasn’t holding back. Before she could draw in a breath, his fingers swept through her arousal and he was rubbing her juices all around her aching clit. He held her gaze for the count of five and then removed his hand, giving her five seconds to try and make sense of the swirling sensations. It was an impossible task.

She was already craving his touch by the time the next smack came. This time she cried out at the sting, the pain awakening something feral. When the last blow fell, she was arched fully off the bed, straining at her bonds. He smirked again as he began the five seconds of teasing her clit. She’d lost this game before it had begun.

As the five seconds of rest started, he watched her. Her skin was flushed and her eyes were glazed over in lust. Only two rounds in and she was ready for release.

He deliberately made the next five smacks hard, lingering his hand on her cunt as he delivered the blows, wanting her to believe she had a chance of coming from them. After the fifth, he gentled his touch, circling her clit with the lightest of touches.

“You bast…” she managed before he stifled the curse by shoving his slick fingers in her mouth, making her taste herself for the five count. Ravenous, she sucked them in, never breaking eye contact.



She was so close she could taste it. Come on, she willed her body on.


The whimper escaped before she could stop it. She didn’t even know what was pain and what was pleasure now.


The whimper became a cry as she sobbed in frustration. So close. So goddam close. Just a little more force and she would get there.



The expletive fell from snarling lips. He loved her like this. Needy and desperate. So close to the edge. So ready to fall.


His hand lingered fleetingly before breaking contact. She held her breath, skin glistening, poised. Sanity crept back in to taunt her as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled, holding it close to her ear.

"You lose, little one," he breathed, as his fingers returned to her clit. He didn’t even need to count; the first touch had her coming, gripping around his fingers and screaming her release. He toyed with her for a few sensitive moments until the line connected.

“Hello?” The voice was deep. Accented.

“I… I lost,” she whispered, exhausted.

A pause.

“One hour,” the voice said, as the line went dead.

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