While under his spell I wanted to please him, desperately needing release, elated yet fearful of what he might make me do next as he tightened the rope, snarled commands and teased my twitching body to what I wrongly assumed was the brink of its capacity for pleasure. He would always push beyond, serving the sadistic streak in him and assuaging my unquenchable appetite for deplorable acts of raw sex that would leave me feeling dirty, yet alive. Palm prints smarted. Fingers probed. Teeth grazed erect nipples. Fires roared from my core to the farthest reaches of my body, and all the while I panted uncontrollably, wanting nothing more than the episode to continue indefinitely. He never spoke to me like a respectable human being should. Never sought my consent. Never asked my opinion of whether his actions pleased me, nor whether he should stop or continue. My lust-filled yowls, breathy gasps and desperate encouragement were answer enough. Truthfully, I probably couldn’t have spoken. I felt like a kid in a toy store.We visited the clothing section next and, once more, I was a little overwhelmed at the variety. Shyly, I asked Lillian’s opinion about this, or that, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t totally turned on; every time I moved, my nipples rubbed against my top (daringly, I’d worn a thin white cotton tank and no bra. At one point, I caught my reflection in the mirror, blushing as I realized how obviously hard my nipples were, poking lewdly through the material. Thankfully, Lillian pretended not to notice).She told me that I was welcome to try on anything I’d like. I had a sudden vision of her helping me into one of the leather harnesses, the straps framing my tits and cunt. In my fantasy she offered to demonstrate one of the floggers on me, the cat o’ nine tails, leaving my back and ass striped red, ordering me to turn around so that she could do the same to my breasts and cunt, each flick of the knotted leather tails bringing me closer and closer to.
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