I stood, in front of the mirror, wearing only my white bra and panties. I could see my
breasts, the nipples poking through the tense fabric. My hands went, of their own accord
to the cabinet on my side of the bathroom and found the bottle of perfume.
Tabu.
The perfume I used only when I wanted to be particularly naughty in bed. I knew
the response it elicited on my husband, and on me too.
I removed the brassiere and panties and stood, nude, in front of the bathroom
mirror. My breasts trembled with my agitated breathing. I placed a couple of drops behind
my ears, only a couple; this stuff was potent. A drop of perfume on the cleft of my chest.
I heard his breathing, even deeper. I wondered if the perfume would be enough to bring him
out of such slumber and added one more drop, on my sex.
The vapors of the scent filled the bathroom stoking my own fires even higher. I
found it difficult to breathe.
I left the light on, and went into the closet that separated the bathroom from
the room. I picked up a white negligee, that I bought for just such an occasion but had
seldom used, and slipped it on. I did not to bother with the matching G-string. Opening
the door of the walk in closet I stepped into the relative dimness of the room.
My scent had preceded me for, when I looked at the bed, I saw Paul asleep on
his back, the sheet draped over his body, tented by his very erect organ, forming a white
pyramid over his pelvis.
He woke up as I approached the bed. I saw the light sparkle in his eyes and the
smile on his face as he pulled the sheets aside.
I got into the bed, kneeling on it, sidling up to him. He turned towards me and
his hard cock bounced off my flank. His arms surrounded me and his lips sought mine.
He crushed my lips under his before burying his face on my neck, where the
scent was stronger.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too.”
His strong arms embraced my body; his chest crushed my C cup size breasts and
his lips, once again found mine. His tongue entered my mouth and I sucked hard on it,
touching it with my own. My arms held him, just as hard as he held me. His hands sought
the hem of my negligee and I raised my arms as he pulled it off me.
This is when my life began to change. I hated, loathed, to be nude, while he
still wore his pajamas. I found it degrading. He, on the other hand, liked it. So, after a
few moments, I would always reach for his pajama shirt and his shorts, and pull them off
him. Reducing him to equality.
I did not do so this time.
In his arms, I turned away from him. The wine, and the perfume, mixed in my
brain. I was no longer myself. Who I was, however, remained to be seen.
His body nestled into my back, his arms slid around my chest, taking my breasts
in his hands. His cock, rigid like a board, found space between my cheeks. I turned my
head around to find his lips again. My legs curled around his. His lips abandoned mine and
descended to my neck. His teeth nibbled my skin. I rolled inside his arms this way and
that. I heard a woman’s whimpers in my ears, barely recognizing them as mine.
His arms explored my breasts, holding them, squeezing them. He loved to play
with them, just as much as I loved to have them played with. He pinched my nipple.
I squealed in pleasure.
It was different today.
The pinch that always caused me to start, in pain and pleasure, felt different;
very different. He knew I liked him to play hard with my breasts and nipples; almost to
the extent of pain, and even a little beyond. He liked to do that, to hurt my tits. Paul
was a closet sadist, I knew. I’d seen his porn collection. This was as much as I ever
allowed him. It excited me as much as it did him.
He squeezed harder. I yelped.
My hands rose to cover his, holding him close to me, holding his hands over my
breasts.
He began to squeeze them. I felt my flesh peeking between his splayed fingers
and the tips digging deep into the soft meat of my boobs.
Someone said:
“Harder.”
He squeezed harder; much harder.
I felt a kick in my groin. A basketball grew in my pussy, I tried to breathe,
but could not suck air. I shook my head but could not clear my mind.
More. I needed more.
I tried to speak but no sounds came out of my mouth. I tried to swallow but my
throat was dry.
“My nipples. Pinch my nipples,” I croaked.
He pinched both nips at the same time, hard. The result was unexpected.
Twin bolts of electricity jumped from my breasts, from my nipples, down into my
pelvis, exploding into my clitoris. I screamed in pain, and gasped in pleasure. I rolled
in his arms, oblivious to his fingers, still clamped down hard on my nipples.
He squeezed harder and I screamed and gasped again, my hands clamped like a
vise over his. Bolts of fire ran from my boobs to my clitoris. I screamed again.
“Pinch them harder,” I had to repeat myself, as he did not understand my words.
Streams of lava flowed from my twin buds down to my little nub of pleasure. My
thighs opened and closed, like scissors, and I felt a river of love juice pouring from my
slit. My hands dove into my wet tunnel and I thrust two fingers from each hand inside me.
I could not recognize myself. I’d never been so wanton, so excited, so … on fire.
“Harder!” I screamed.
He pinched them again.
My cunt throbbed, my vagina throbbed, and my pelvis throbbed. I released his
hands and turned to him.
Panting like I had just ran a Marathon I faced him. His hands sought my boobs
and I held them tight against my orbs. More. My breasts, my clit, my pussy, my whole
entire fucking body demanded it.
“Hurt them, hurt them more.”
He squeezed the sensitive tips, as hard as he could. I yelped in pain while my
pussy gushed again. I felt the inside of my thighs getting wet. I could not see.
He did not release them this time.
“Brace yourself,” he said.
He twisted both of them violently. Someone screamed. My hands flew to my pussy;
four fingers sought my release inside the flooded tunnel to no avail. I plunged them in
and out, to no effect.
“More!” I screamed, “Give me more, damnit!”
He twisted them harder.
I pounded on his chest with my fists, “Harder, more, please Goddammnit!”
He released my tits.
“I cannot do more with just my hands.”
“Well, fucking use something!”
He opened the drawer on his nightstand. I just lay back, masturbating with both
hands at a time. Not caring that he was there, watching me. My fingers plunged inside my
sopping cunt.
“More, more, more,” I whimpered; I cried, rolling on the bed, this way and
that, my need turned into actual, physical pain. I was so close, so close.
He tried to show me something. My eyes, unfocused, could not make out what it
was at first. Then I saw it clearly.
The little multi-tool kit I gave him for his birthday. It had small pliers in
it. This is what he was holding up.
I crossed my wrists above my head.
“Tie... my... hands,” I gasped. “Hurry!”
I rolled from one side of the bed to the other, my thighs crossing and
uncrossing as he picked up one of my silk scarves.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry.”
I felt the cold steel against my nipple.
Then it came.
My nipple and my tit exploded in a white hot ball of pain. My pussy burst in an
eruption of lava. My body jumped on the bed, held down only by the vise like clamp on my
tit. I screamed in agony convulsing in the throes of something that had no name. I opened
my eyes and saw Paul, his knees on each side of my body, sitting on my hips. Pliers in his
hand.
I could barely breathe, I could not speak, my voice but a rasp.
“Otherrrr.”
He crushed the other nub under the steel jaws of the pliers. Once more I jumped
on the bed, screaming and convulsing as one possessed. A million stars of light filled my
body and exploded in front of my eyes. I felt as if I’d stuck my breast in a light socket
and millions of watts coursed through my body, coming out of my pussy in torrents of
fire.
I don’t know if he fucked me or not that night.
I know that, when he released my bound hands, I could not come down from that
massive experience. All of my skin was but an extension of my clit, or of my nipples. The
least touch brought on a new wave of spasms, a new series of aftershocks. If I turned
over, the friction of the sheets on my sensitive tits was enough to send me off on a new
round of moist, hot convulsions.
Finally, thankfully, it subsided enough for Paul to lay a sheet over my naked
body without me starting to thrash all over again.
That was another new thing. I’d never slept in the nude before.
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