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| Blogs > MsStig2010 > Meanwhile Back At The Ranch |
I agree to the conditions because you know best what my punishment ought to be
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I agree to the conditions because you know best what my punishment ought to be " I'm going to punish you, teasing me as you do. Are you prepared?" I felt my skin immediately grow goosebumps. My cheeks felt flushed a feeling I'm not familiar with. " I'm going to teach you what happens to bad girls who tease me. You'll equally hate me and desire me when I'm done." Not a text I was expecting, but I had to regain composure as I had patients waiting for me. This force that blew through my life for a brief, brief, minutia of a moment of my life was a dapper gent in his late 40's whom I had an email exchange with many many months ago. His initial email was that of a random question, " What kind of cars does Ms Stig possess in her garage?" From there witty banter before his desires to break in a new sub was revealed. Having never really expressed much interest in the whole Dom / Sub play, I was curious. By the very definition I've had some rather dominant partners, but not to the extent of my Mr. Grey. Curiosity bested me as I gave him my cell number, and we playfully exchanged messages throughout the day. The conversations started turning from daily observations and jest, to the nitty gritty brass tax of what he wanted. Testing my boundaries as I tend to do, I sent a picture with my hard nipple peeking out from bra in the bathroom at work. He did not appreciate teasing. " Fine.  ut up or shut up." I sent before tousling my hair out of my face, smoothing my scrubs and picking at imaginary fluff. I turned my phone off, testing the waters with this guy, and went about my business ignoring the wetness between my legs. After work, when I was alone in my car I took a deep breath as I turned my phone on. 10 missed texts, 3 missed calls, and 1 voicemail. I listened to the voicemail first. " You're playing with fire, young lady. When you get off work tomorrow afternoon you will go home and make yourself presentable. I expect you at my door at 7. You'll be wearing clothing with easy access, and I expect you to come fully prepared to apologize for your behavior. Don't call my bluff." Damn. The next day, Saturday, I left work at 2pm and did as instructed. Exfoliated, shaved, lotioned, and dolled up, I had butterflies in my stomach.I paced my house, my dogs staring at me. They gave me a knowing look. I left them in the living room, went to my room, and walked into my closet. I never let any man make demands of me. Ever. I'm a strong independent black woman, I have stared men down to damn near puddles of their former selves. Yet here I was, curiously turned on thinking about what was to come. I arrived late. By 4 minutes to the dot. He was not pleased. He walked me to the garage where we left in his car to get dinner and drinks. Normal conversation, silly things about work and such but the civil conversation was only a front for what I could read from his face. If it had been socially acceptable for him to fuck me on that bar table. I would have dropped my panties in a heartbeat. It was a game to him, he knew he was making me squirm. Every accidental touch, or placement of his hand on my back when we were standing at the bar was a calculated move. To make me sweat, to pant, to want him to touch me. The bastard. We eventually made our way back to the car, but not before I pushed him against the door and kissed him. He pulled my hair, and scolded me for being so bossy. The drive back to his house I placed my hand on his thigh, only to have him move it. I placed my hand on his thigh again, only a tad closer to his cock. Again, he removed my hand. I played this game, seeing how close I could get before at a red light he grabbed my hand. " Do you want to use this tonight? Or am I going to have to tie it behind you? " He stared at me. I pulled my hand back, and promptly placed it back on his leg, this time a mere centimeter from his bulge. " Alright, you made your choice." As we pulled into the garage, he parked the car and got out. I was grabbing my purse as he flung the door open and grabbed me. He pushed me inside the house, down the hall to the bedroom. He grabbed my hair tilting my head back and kissed me. Then, un expectantly, he pushed me down to my knees. " Hand out." I did as I was told, and he tied my wrists together with his tie. He untied my dress, taking his time. He ran his hands over my breasts, my nipples responding through the fabric. He pinched a nipple, stepped back. " Bend over." I was on all fours when he moved behind me. I felt his hand move the dress over my ass, and gasping in surprise by the absence of my panties.He felt my ass, running his hand up and down nails grazing my thighs. Then his hand came down with a hard smack. Smack smack smack. It felt incredible. He must have seen how my body responded because he felt where he smacked me, then moved to the other cheek to do the same. He started to alternate sides, taking quick moments to cope a feel. At this point how my wetness hadnt dripped down my legs or saturated the carpet was beyond me. By the time he was done spanking me, he made his move. He teased Priscilla briefly, before plunging in. I felt his other hand cradle the base of my head before I felt him pulling my hair at the roots. " You aren't going to come this way. I'm not going to let you. You come, you'll be punished." Damn him, you of a bitch. Hitting all the right spots I thought about the episode of Golden Girls I watched the night before, the bloodwork results on a in kidney failure, how I needed to mop anything to detach myself from the pleaure I was receiving. It was hard. Oh so hard. But I gritted my teeth and took a mental inventory of the pharmacy reminding myself to order more beta blockers and such. What seemed like after an eternity, I felt him shift his fingers from Priscilla, up my ass and playfully toy with my asshole. Then he slapped me harder than before. He told me to get on the bed, which I did. He pushed me to my back, pulling my tits out of my bra. He licked my nipples sweetly before slightly biting them. He spread my legs open and slid a finger in. He worked me up, this time I felt my juices dripping down my thighs. He licked it up, flicking my clit with his tongue. " You taste so delicious, it's almost a shame I can't enjoy it more. I'm going to fuck you now, I'll tell you when you may come." He rubbed the head of his huge hard cock along my slit, teasing my clit. He slid in with some resistance, I mean homie was packing a damn near 2x4, I felt him almost up to my throat. He leaned over me, his hand around my neck. He pumped in and out, in and out. He looked me in the eye, and told me to come for him. Easier said than done at that point. It was like a dam exploded and I saw stars as I came. Screaming, moaning, cursing, Jesus heard his name a few times that moment. He continued to fuck me, his hand tightening around my neck slightly as I felt his body tense up. He came, and I felt him pulsating through the condom. I couldn't breath, I felt like I had just gotten off the treadmill. He released his grip, I was breathing heavily. He looked at me, kissed me and started to untie me. " Bathroom is that way," he pointed, " you have 30 minutes to get dressed before my wife gets home." Mother fucker. So you see folks, such is the story of my life. I have sex that rivals that of successful erotica authors, yet a sistah can't ever get a break. I have Fifty Shades of Grey to thank for this post, as I've been mentally flipping through my little black book of debauchery of what to share with y'all. Although someone will argue my experiences with bondage and such aren't a true BDSM experience, I don't easily agree to be gagged and bound on a daily basis. I imagine if I lived closer to the Big Bad Wolf, he'd make it just that though. Damn you, Ohio. Damn you to hell. All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be. |
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Oh my damn! I could not believe the ending of this event!!! My first time reading your blog - once I started reading I expected I would tell you how hot that was - and it was - but the ending totally threw me off. BTW - I'm no expert, but I would say that is a true BDSM experience!
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5/3/2012 9:58 pm |
Gurl.... You and me both. It's a perfect example of what my sex life is  All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be.
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5/4/2012 10:07 am |
@ Lisa, the crazy thing is, being in his house for a brief moments I saw no sign of a wife. No pictures, nothing that would alert me there being something amiss. Tricky bastard. All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be.
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Ohio's awesome. Admit it. Smart as a horse and hung like Einstein.
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Nice blog, I like 
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10/15/2012 9:24 pm |
wow....talk about getting me hard, i could visualize you throughout that process....love it!
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