Author: David Williams
The rain lashed down onto Tiffany’s nude flesh as she pulled against the ropes binding her. In mock desperation she tried to escape, hearing his footfalls on the wet rooftop, the soles of his boots clicking through the shallow puddles that gathered, the steady clicking of his approach like thundering drums in her ears. She cried out softly as he neared and she surrendered, allowing her body to go almost limp as she stood there, the cold rain making her shiver slightly.
His breath in her ear, a slight stirring of warm air against her neck, she knew he was leaning in so close. She was blindfolded well and could not see him as he moved in close enough to smell her fear and arousal. She could feel the heat emanating from him touching her skin, making her want to scream out to be fucked.
He had a way with her; he made her feel so vulnerable and so safe at the same time. Here on the rooftop, exposed to the city, nude and tied, she was safe with him. She could enjoy the thought of countless eyes watching her nude flesh.
When his hand touched her, it was like an electric shock through her soul. She was expecting it, but it was always such a thrill to be touched by him. He gently caressed her stiff nipples and then pinched them. Tiffany moaned as he pulled on them and laughed. She could feel her juices dripping from her and mixing with the night’s rain, running down her leg like a river of sex.
His fingers were strong from hard work and yet soft from good care. He was a mass of contradictions to her, strong and yet gentle, demanding and yet yielding to her needs. She felt very much like a toy . . . no . . . that wasn’t right . . . like an instrument in his hands, like he would play her, and she would sing so sweetly for him. Only in his hands could she find her true potential.
His hands slid down her body, and she trembled as though freezing, but she had long since stopped feeling the chill of the air. Her body was on fire and ready to explode, if that was his whim. She was his to create music with, and in that role she was magnificent.
His fingers passed over her tight belly, and she giggled at the tickle. She could feel him smiling at her. It was as though his moods were palatable to her; she could feel them wash over her. She had amused him and she felt a thrill of accomplishment at doing so. She was, after all, here to amuse and to be used by him and in that to find her satisfaction. She was his.
His fingers traced over her body, touching her across the belly and around the sides. As they slid up her back, her flesh was covered in goose bumps, and a shiver of pleasure washed through her. As he slowly traced down her back and onto her ass, she could feel a heat burning within her pussy that she was sure would turn the rain on her skin to steam.
As his fingers played over her upper thighs and around her hips, she began to tremble. It was amazing what his touch could bring out in her. Such a simple thing as a caress could open floodgates within her that she had never known existed. As he brushed over her shaved pussy lips, she moaned and a tiny climax shook through her. The excitement, the touch . . . Everything was too much for her to bear . . . The small release rocked her before she knew it was even coming.
The heat of her climax shook off the cold of the rain and the brisk air. Suddenly she was sweating and panting. She trembled slightly, knowing she was not to cum until ordered, and thus she would be punished for her indiscretion. She had been bad.
His kiss was so gentle at first it felt like a butterfly touching her cheek; so loving, it made her almost cry at the sensation. He stroked her hair and kissed her again on the other cheek. She felt so safe under his care; so complete with his touch. He kissed her again on her shoulder, this time harder, more passionate. Tiffany trembled and drew in a deep breath.
She heard the bag unzip and could see it in her mind. Each toy placed in there with meticulous care in a set order. She had dutifully packed it earlier for him. She knew every toy in there, every piece of equipment. She fought to stand totally still, but not knowing what toy was being brought out made it impossible.
It was a wicked rattan cane. Wispy and supple, the sting from a strike took seconds to register and long, long minutes to fade. It was her least favorite, favorite toy. She feared it as much as she loved it. The sensation was so strong, so intense, she was always afraid she could not withstand it. She always did, but the fear was too delicious to let go.
“Five for the climax.” His voice was so strong, even in his whisper, that it rang through her very soul. “Understand?”
She nodded. She knew he was right, she had not controlled herself properly. She tried to concentrate on relaxing her body, letting her ass cheeks go soft to lessen the blow. The excitement, however, made this quite impossible. She trembled waiting for the first blow to land. That was the worst part, knowing it was coming and having to wait. . . those long seconds dragging on forever as she waited for what was coming.
Finally she fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other in the cold puddle. That was when the first stroke landed. Feather light it seemed at first, the light cane striking across her ass cheeks. Then the pain erupted and that light wispy strike was like a line of fire across her ass cheeks.
Tiffany cried out a yelp before swallowing the other noises her instinct was urging her to scream. The pain, so delicious, so intense, seemed to burn into her flesh and radiate out through her body. After a moment her mind cleared again and the pain began to fade and she became aware of the rain falling on her skin again.
She began to count the raindrops as they fell on her. One after another, they rolled down her flesh, tickling their way to finally drop off onto the roof below her feet, comforting as they rolled over her burning ass cheeks, they felt so cool, so nice they way they. . .
The second strike caught her totally off guard and she didn’t even squeal. She sucked in a great breath and held it as the pain exploded into her mind. It was more intense because of the surprise, more powerful because it re-lit the pain of the first strike in her mind. She finally exhaled and tried to clear her mind and allow the pain to fade. . .
The third strike and the fourth came almost together, two quick evil snaps to her upper thighs. She felt like her legs would buckle. She felt her body trembling, shaking with the intensity of the pain. Her bladder ached, and she was sure she would pee herself, but she also knew that was just the pain echoing through her. She didn’t really have to pee . . .
The fifth was the hardest and most cruel. It struck on the curve of her ass cheeks in that very sensitive spot where the leg meets the ass. She squealed out as the pain rocked her. Burning through her, her mind spun, so intense. She wanted to cry out, not in pain, but in triumph, she was purified of her sin. She was pure for him again because she had paid for her mistake.
As she became aware of her world again, she realized he was holding her up, his strong arm around her waist. He was whispering how good she was in her ears, telling her he was proud she had taken her punishment like a good girl. She was a good girl.
That phrase made the pain vanish. She was a good girl. His good girl. She was his good girl. The pain was nothing. She found her legs again, and stood on her own as he kissed the back of her neck. He released her when she was able to support herself again. Good girl, she was a good girl.
The rain was almost painfully cold on her skin now. Like shards of ice dripping and winding their way down her skin leaving shivers behind. She shook slightly as goose bumps rose up all over her body. Her nipples ached, they were so stiff. It was as though she became aware of reality all at once, and then his hand touched her again. It was like magic, that feeling of floating, euphoria and safety. The world receded to the power of his touch. He became her whole world again.
“So good for me, aren’t you?” His voice, melodic and pure in her ears. She nodded and purred for him. “Mmmm, good baby girl. I know you are so good for me.” He stroked her hair and she was in heaven at his touch. As he caressed her she heard the sound of a zipper and knew he was opening his bag of toys and tricks again . . . play was soon to begin.
“Today is special, baby.” His voice was soothing and yet serious. Tiffany nodded in response. “Today you take my mark. Today I claim you for all eternity.” She felt tears welling in her eyes.
“Today, here, in front of the world I make you mine, body, mind and soul.” She nodded, unable to speak, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. His hand slid so effortlessly into her wet hair and grasped a good handful and snapped her face to his. “Mine.” He growled and without warning, she came again.
There was no punishment this time. Her orgasm was short and intense and a reflection of her love for him. Her body burned brilliantly for a moment, and then her love dripped down her bare legs and mixed with the rain. She shook from the intense, unexpected violence of the orgasm. It had ripped out of her like a living thing fighting to be free.
His laugh was gentle and loving as he watched her recover. Having the power to touch her in that way pleased him. Knowing his touch caused such powerful feelings pleased him. As she shook she smiled, knowing she had once again pleased him. Her heart beat faster with pride, knowing that she inspired his smile.
He stepped away from her, and she heard him working on something. Metallic sounds and then an evil hiss and she shook. She could feel the heat, and knew it was a blowtorch set to heat a branding iron. She was afraid and yet excited at the same time. Her body shook as she tried to control the conflicting emotions in her. The smell of the heat in the air was so powerful she couldn’t ignore it.
Then his hand again and a softly whispered, “Not yet, baby girl.” He brushed her wet hair back and she calmed, knowing he would not deceive her. “Not yet . . . first you fly.” She giggled and smiled. His touch stroked away her fears and she was safe again. She felt the touch of leather falls upon her back and purred at their familiar touch. The leather falls of this flogger were elk leather, so butter-soft they were like tiny kisses on her. He stepped back, and the leather slid away. Tiffany made her breath deep and regular and was ready to begin.
The flogger fell softly at first, a steady slow rhythm on her shoulders and back and then upward swats on her ass cheeks. It felt like a massage right now, the sting minimal compared to the pleasure. The pace was steady and the strength of the blows began to increase slowly.
Then the blows began to vary, striking in irregular patterns across the back and ass. Faster and harder they came, slowly working up in power and intensity. Tiffany stood stone still in the rain and felt each lick of the leather, enjoyed every second of the sting and thud. Faster and into a figure eight swing that whipped her shoulders and ass in a lighting repetition of blows that caused her whole soul to stiffen under the onslaught.
The blows slowed and his hand touched her in between them to make sure she was okay. She curled her back to his touch and he laughed. The strikes sped up again and came harder and harder on her. Soon the sting made her catch her breath and she lost track of anything but the flogger striking her.
The power of the blows and the timing kept her wondering where they would fall next and then finally she lost herself to the sensation and forgot everything else. It seemed each strike took a minute to hit and the painful sting she loved so much lasted for hours. Time became distorted and stretched and pulled on reality. All Tiffany knew was that one blow followed the next.
Two floggers worked her now, shorter falls and stiffer leather, they stung more; a cutting sting that seemed to lay her soul open to the world. Sting and thud merged, pain and pleasure became one. Strike after strike and reality was only the pain, the pain that set her free to breathe again.
Her body shook in the wind and rain. She was part of the weather, the rain, the world. She had left her body, she was sure she drifted in the air. Pain and pleasure in fast repetition. She was freed from her mortal bonds and became so much more. She flew for him . . . she flew because of him.
That was when the sound of a sizzle came to her ears and the smell of burning. Seconds that seemed years later the pain hit her and brought her back to her body. The searing burning of hot iron against her bare ass and she screamed out. The pain was so intense, so powerful, so erotic. In agony she came, her orgasm so powerful that the pain became a thought and no more. She cried out and collapsed, her bonds holding her up.
She felt his hands release her and lower her into the cold water on the rooftop. The blessed cold water feeling so good, so soothing on her ass. The rain feeling so good. She shivered with cold but couldn’t get enough cold. She cried and laughed and shook as another aftershock went through her.
He was stroking her hair, whispering how well she did, how much her loved her. She cried because she had pleased him so much. She cried in relief, in pride, and just because she could cry. She laughed because nothing made sense and everything was just right. His touch was like magic again, his voice like pure love.
Tiffany finally opened her eyes and found herself without a blindfold. She gently reached down and touched the angry burnt flesh on her ass, his symbol carved into her flesh. She looked up at him and he was smiling. She grinned as tears dripped down her face.
Leaning close to her he whispered one word into her ear and everything was okay. She cried and held him close as he stroked her hair in the rain. One word spoken by him meant so much. So much to her, to her whole world. Just one word.