Back to the old standby: male dominant, female submissive.

When she woke, she knew something was amiss. Early mornings were not her strong point, but normally she could turn over. Intertwined in his arms, she simply couldn’t press down to flip over onto her front. Then she realized that she couldn’t separate her wrists. Then she opened her eyes.

He was smiling.

He stood, pulling a rope that was seemingly hanging from the ceiling as he did so. As he pulled down, up she went, her wrists bound together, tied to a rope that was threaded through an “O” hook in the ceiling. Even before she was able to really figure out what was going on, through her morning fog, her toes were barely touching the bed as he tied one end of the rope to the foot of the bed, suspending her. The change in temperature – going quickly from beneath a cozy comforter to being nude in a heavily air-conditioned room forced goosebumps to rise all over her body.

She shivered in the cold.

Then she gasped as he pinched both her nipples and she shut her eyes to the pain.

He continued pinching as the gasps turned to moans.

She tried to find footing on the bed, to move her body closer to his, but each big toe barely made contact with a surface — she couldn’t force herself in any direction.

Her wrists started to ache as they bore her weight.

Her nipples burned.

Her body shivered in the chilly room.

“Kiss me,” she whisperbegged, trying to move her mouth closer to his.

He stood inches from her face, so close that she could feel his breath against her lips, his lips just barely pressing against hers. But he did not kiss.

“Please kiss me, please” she requested again, opening her mouth, willing it closer to that of her master.

He released her nipples and, with his thumbs on the underside of each breast and his fore and middle fingers on the top, clamped onto the meaty part of her tits, gripping tight.

She cried out.

He bit her lower lip.

She gasped.

He closed his mouth around hers, sucking her breath into his, before invading her mouth with his tongue.

Both hands pulled up, lifting her off the bed, her cry of pain was muffled with his mouth over hers.

He stepped back, breaking all contact with her. She realized he was standing on a chair – while she was fully aware that he was taller than she, she should have known he wasn’t quite tall enough to be pulling this off while standing on the ground.

He stepped off the chair and, with a deft pull on the knot about the foot of the bed, she found herself free.

And with that, a fraction of a moment later, she crumbled to the bed. He pounced on top of her. With his left arm wrapped around her front, holding her close, his right hand worked its way between her legs; his target was quite damp. She tried to squirm, to move with him, but he held her tight, limiting her ability to hump, to move. Roughly, he circled his fingers around her clitoris, pushing her pussy lips apart.

“Cum for me,” he ordered.

And she complied.

He did not stop the erotic assault, but simply pressed harder as the circles with his fingers slowed. Before she had caught her breath from her first orgasm, her hips were, again, starting to gyrate on their own.

She gasped, holding her breath, nearing another climax, and he broke all contact, causing her to cry out in disappointment.

And before she could even think of what might come next, the rope about her wrists became taught once again. She was thrust onto her feet – not quite as high as the first time, however — her feet were firmly in-contact with the mattress this time, though this fact meant little to her mobility.

He, again, tied the loose end of the rope to the foot of the bed. He stood back and admired her.

She whimpered.

He backhanded her right breast. Then her left.

A drop of her own juice worked its way down her thigh.

Standing on her side, his left arm braced her around her waist. With his right hand, he spanked.

And spanked.

And spanked.

She kicked the bed, but could manage nothing to avoid the assault.

He continued until she was crying freely.

And when he stopped, with her body hanging limply in her bounds, he, again, lowered her. Keeping the rope taut as he untied things from the bottom of the bed frame, he lowered her, slowly, to the mattress.

She curled up on the bed.

He climbed on top of her.

He untied her wrists, kissing the angry red marks from the ropes as he did so.

With her fully free, he laid her on her back and spread her legs with his body. He entered her.

Despite the gentle start, the fucking was hard. She lost herself in the violence of his thrusts.

She released a tirade – something between a series of moans and grunts and speaking in tongues.

He withdrew from her and she cried out “no”. “Please.”

He straddled her chest. One of his fists found the back of her head & he grabbed her hair.

His cock worked its way to her mouth.

Holding himself still, he forced her head onto his member.

Three thrusts was all it took.

She swallowed and sighed.