She closed her eyes and felt the air thicken as he came up behind her. She instinctively braced herself against the mantle of the fireplace. The snarl of his voice in her ear made her heart leap, but the almost imperceptible caress of his hand down her spine made every cell in her body quiver.
‘Spread your legs for me,’ as his hand reached her backside. The roughness of his knuckles against the softness of her most inner thigh was so subtle she almost had to strain to feel it. The moment lingered to the point of breaking.
As she spread her legs, the heat of the fire radiated through the wrought iron grating, under her white silk negligee, and into the most delicate crevasses of her sex. It hadn’t occurred to her that fire from that distance could provide a hint of pain. This made her smile to herself, but she hadn’t fully realised the purpose of the flame.
The sound of him unbuckling his belt almost made her swoon. It caused an uncontrollable convulsion from her bare feet, up her shapely legs and almost through her suddenly erect nipples. She waited, holding on to the reverberation for as long as she could. If she let go too early, she would miss most of the thrill; if she waited too long, it would die out quickly. ‘Timing is everything,’ swirled sweetly in her head.
She imagined the long, slow movement of his left arm pulling on the buckle until his belt was free of the confines of his jeans. She had enjoyed many fantasies of that single deft movement releasing the belt. She wanted to hear it crack as he snapped it taut so close to her face that a few wisps of her auburn hair blew across her cheek. He knew when she didn’t flinch that he would have to work harder this time.
He enjoyed that she constantly upped the ante. She knew physical reactions were the only signals he needed from her. They rarely spoke. If there was one thing they agreed on, it was that words and thoughts get in the way of experience. When you’re thinking or talking, you’re not paying attention and if you miss the subtle expressions evoked from the experience, the glorious, crystalline, intensity collapses on itself and flattens.
The first swat of his belt against her thighs was as harsh as any he had ever given her. He usually built up to that kind of fervour. She wasn’t expecting the force of it. The exquisite sting almost buckled her knees. It was then she fully understood his painstaking placement of her in front of the fireplace. At first she had been disappointed, she had been yearning for him to restrain her since they had met, but he didn’t seem to be interested in that. When the force of his belt sent her forward, the heat of flame seared her exposed nether flesh like the sting of a whip.
‘If you move your hands, I will leave,’ and he stepped away to let that sink in. Setting up impossible scenarios for her turned him on to no end. It only took him 3 weeks to find the first of her emotional pressure points. She could not endure abandonment, and he used that to perfection to exert non-violent control over her mind. No matter what he did to her body, her mind would endure it because the emotional alternative was so much harsher than any physical exertion or pain.
The small adrenaline rush and the quickening of her heart made her a little dizzy, but she didn’t move. The sting from the belt was just beginning to fade, when he let loose with a barrage of fast but continuous wallops. Her torso instinctively moved forward, and the fire blazed her skin. When she leaned into the belt, it was almost too much to bear. She finally cried out, but she did not move her hands.
Seeing her endure such wrath excited him beyond measure. To extract pleasure from a creature who could endure such pain was the most magnificent thing he could think of. The rush he got from pushing her so far was better than any drug he had ever taken. He had come to connect with her at such a primal level, he could sense the slightest shift in her heart rate, a change of her breath was like the crashing of waves in his ears, he could almost see her body temperature rise and he feared when she grew cold – but when she cried out, he could barely control himself. The sound of her cry was the submission he craved. To hear her give in to the strap, to the sting, to the pain, to his power over her, almost sent him over the edge. He stepped away again to let the moment ebb and re-gather.
He saw her skin begin to glisten from the heat of the fire and the physical rigor. He took ice from his drink in both hands and began to let it melt over her neck and shoulders. The cold contrast from the heat, the delicate impact of the drops and the momentary reprieve from the strap drew a groan of deep pleasure from her. He kissed and bit her shoulder and licked the now salty drops along her neck. He couldn’t resist bringing the last bits of ice to her nipples when he saw them begin to rise. She leaned into him so her quivering legs wouldn’t buckle. In brief moments like this she felt saved. It is a salvation like none she has ever known. But the next wave of the strap was gathering for him and he backed away from her as she regained her balance.
Wanting her whole back as his last canvas for the evening, he pulled her negligee over her head and used it to cover her face as a kind of blindfold. He adored her back. She had beautiful posture that for some unexplained reason made him proud – much as he had nothing to do with it. He wanted to leave his mark on her beauty, almost to claim it and her as completely his. He had never whipped a woman’s back before. The urge not to held him for a moment. Could he risk really hurting her? Did he really have the power to do what he wanted with her flesh? He knew he had the strength, but power is knowledge and strength combined. Uncharted territory is exciting because of the risk, not in spite of it – and he knew he had to try. He choked up on the belt a bit and whipped the belt tongue across her pristine back. The sound was symphonic. It wasn’t like the sound of hitting her ass and thighs, which were solid and sturdy, this sound was of leather on tight skin and bone. He had to hear it again…and again…and again. He barely noticed when she fell to her knees.
The sharp stings that reverberated through her brought her almost to a breaking point. Her cries started to come with every blow - fast and freely - but she would not move her hands from the mantle. She wanted to endure this for him. She could not fathom the thought of him leaving her - much less knowing that she would be the cause of his leaving if she moved her hands. And just when she thought she couldn't take any more, the pain went beyond the physical and each blow released her anger and frustration and heartache. The pain and the endurance consummated a pure, physical release of all the anguish that had been taking its toll on her. And then her knees buckled.
A panic went through him like lightening. He had lost control. Her back was covered with the red glow of stripes and possible welts. What had he done? He had broken one of his own cardinal rules. Never lose control. Without his control, the world was nothing more than chaos and that's just not allowed. He waited in his own fear for the room to shatter.
The moment he wrapped his arm around her from behind, will be etched in both of their memories. Each had just gone beyond what they had known of themselves and each other. This was a new catharsis, and it redeemed each in the other’s eyes and made them both better. They were stronger and more vulnerable than either had realised, and they were both excited to have someone worthy of and able to push their respective boundaries. Pleasure would come later.