He is silent, giving me a moment to enjoy the tingling sensations on my lips and pussy. Then I feel his hands brush against my boobs, cupping the breasts and circling inwards. His fingers reach my nipples and touches them lightly. I moan.

Then he pinches them. Hard!

“Oww, fucking hell!”

“Shhh… Let your anger go. Just let it go,” he murmurs. “When you feel pain your instinctive reaction is anger. It releases endorphins – a kind of anaesthetic. Your body tries to take the pain away. But if you welcome it…if you embrace it…then your body will release dopamine, the pleasure hormone. Over time, the pain will begin to feel good.”

Easy for him to say, my nipples are still sore from the pinch! But as he speaks, he grips them again and begins to squeeze. More slowly this time but still firm, with increasing pressure. I take a deep breath and hold it.

“That’s it. Control your anger and let the pain in. I want you to know that each time I administer pain today, I will also give you pleasure. It will hurt, but then you’ll be rewarded.”

And as he says those words he releases my nips and gently massages my boobs, his palms sliding over my nipples sending little electric jolts down to my loins. My pussy is getting wetter and I feel myself relax and sigh.

He moves away towards the table and atakum escort then approaches again from behind me. I feel him straddle my legs and kneel either side of me, pressing his body against my back and bum. The course material of his jeans rubs my skin. There’s something harder beneath. I try to fondle him with my bound hands but he pushes them away.

“I’m going to attach some clamps to your nipples,” he murmurs into my ear. “It will hurt at first but soon subside.”

He reaches around and clips them over my nips. Cold plastic. It stings but I hold on. I want to please him by being strong. After a few seconds the pain does, indeed, dissipate leaving just a dull ache. It isn’t exactly pleasant but I know I can tolerate it.

Then his hand slips down and under my buttocks and finds the outside of my labia. He strokes them gently and I gasp. “Oh yes, please…” I moan. Two more divine little strokes and his fingers are gone.

“You’re doing very well,” he whispers as he runs his hands up my spine and into my hair, massaging my scalp and shoulders. I simply relax, tension released, enjoying the attention, happy to have pleased him.

My mind starts to drift again as he strokes my hair. I’m relaxing now. Any tension and fear I had before seems to have passed. I feel safe, atalar escort despite not really knowing what is coming next.

Of course, we discussed all this a few days ago. He asked me about my desires and we established boundaries. I told him I just wanted to let go.

I run a small shipping company, built from scratch. I work long hours. I manage the whole damn thing and despite having seven employees, sometimes it feels like I’m the one doing all the running around. All the thinking. I rarely sleep more than a few hours. It’s a life full of stress.

And then there’s George. A marriage of convenience perhaps? Yes, I suppose it was. He’s a sweet guy but so much older. His money helped me start the business. But his idea of ‘fun’ is a Friday night in with a thick book and glass of whisky. And let’s not even talk about our sex life! A living example of ‘wham, bang, thank you ma’am’. Often without the ‘thank you’ part!

I told my new Dom everything about my career, my marriage, the drudgery of my life, and much more. I emptied my soul and it felt good to share. And he listened patiently, nodded silently and occasionally asked a pertinent question. Or perhaps they weren’t questions at all – just directions that would guide me into his arms.

“Do you ataşehir escort want to be in control?” Not really. At least not in the bedroom.

“And you need something more passionate?” I crave it every day.

“Do you dream of being cared for by someone stronger? Sexually I mean.” Oh God, yes please!

“And what is it that you really, truly want?’ That question again.

“I want to FEEL something,” I repied meekly without really knowing what I wanted.

“Pleasure…?…or pain?” He asked matter-of-factly.

“Either,” I giggled. “Or maybe both!”

“And you’ve come to me for advice? Or to give you that experience?” I remember hesitating. He held my gaze – dark green eyes full of assurances of sensuality and lust. He was mesmerizing.

“Debbie. Back in the room now.” His voice is firm and close to my ear.

“Sorry! I was just thinking about…”

“Quiet please. You don’t need to speak unless I ask you to.”

And this time his sharp tone doesn’t irritate. I’m here to please him and to be present, so I remain silent.

“Last week you told me you wanted to feel something. So now I’m going to show you what your body is capable of. Are you ready?”

I am slightly dazed by the darkness of the blindfold, the soft carpet under my knees, the warmth of his body pressed against me, and his hot breath on my neck. My arms are immobilized and I’m totally under his control, yet I feel safe. But I also remember the details of the ‘experience’ we talked about and what I agreed to. A little shiver of fear runs through my body. Am I ready? Probably not.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply obediently.

***