"What have I gotten myself into?"
I ask myself this question when it is FAR too late for me to turn back now. I stand in front of the door, naked, as he has instructed. Sir has labeled it "The Dungeon" although it's just a basement that he has been working on for the past several weeks. Now he wants to christen it. We've had nothing but vanilla sex since he started on this project and my bratty attempts to bring out "The Dom" have been unsuccessful. I have a feeling all that pent up Dom-ness is about to be unleashed.
"Open the door," he whispers in my ear. I smile slyly. During our scenes he is a man of few words but I can tell from his tone that he is excited for me to see what he's been working on. His erection that he has pressed against my ass is also a dead give away.
I open the door, step inside, and gasp at the MASSIVE king-sized bed in the middle of the room which is bathed in red light. The bed is jet black with a metal frame and four very tall posts. One might consider it a normal piece of furniture if not for the straps and handcuffs hanging from it. On the table across from the bed is an assortment of Sir's favorite accoutrements, including several whips and a huge dildo. But he has also added a ball gag and leather wrist restraints.
I chuckle, then ask "Who's the gag for, me or you?" Invoking "the brat" while naked in the middle of a sex room when your Dom is just itching to flog you, AND your back is turned to him, is NOT a good idea.
SMACK!!
He smacks my ass cheek so hard the sound reverberates throughout the room. I'm so surprised by it that I can only manage to gasp, the sound of which also seems to hang in the air longer than usual. And THAT is what he was working on...the acoustics. Anybody can buy a bed and equipment. But Sir, with his unique musician's ear, wants to be aurally surrounded by his sexual handiwork; a sort of audio porn.
"Do you have any more smart assed remarks, Sax?" he asks in his sexy, bedroom, don't-fuck-with-me voice. He's almost scary when he is this calm. I'm glad he loves me or this would be terrifying.
"No," I answer, my butt cheek still stinging. If his hand hurts this much, how bad will the whips be?
"No?" he asks.
"No, Sir" I say, my breathing heavier, my pussy already moist with anticipation.
He tells me to stand in front of the bed and I comply, my back still toward him. He raises my right hand and uses a leather cuff to tie me to the bed post. Then he moves to my other side, takes my left hand and puts it on his dick.
"Stroke me," he commands.
I do as I'm told as he kisses me on my shoulder, his breathing getting heavier. He traces his finger down my spine. I moan and toss my head back feeling his erection grow in my hand. So, in spite of how intimidating the room is, and the fact that I'm partially bound, this is Sensuous Dom; the Dom who tortures me with soft kisses, and feathers, and makes me wait to climax.
I am wrong.
"I'm going to fuck the shit out of you," he whispers in my ear, and I can almost hear the smile sneak across his face as he straps my other wrist to the bed post.
So, this is Pervert Dom; the Dom who uses different whips to see which one will make me cry out the loudest and who has never-ending stamina.
I like Pervert Dom.
I look over my shoulder, stare him right in the eyes and say, "Bring, it."
