I’m lying on the bed, towels under my upper half. He sprinkles water over my face, giving me a taste of what’s to come.
Then the pillowcase is over my face- it’s folded, not put on like a hood. He presses it down, so I can feel the pressure. I can breathe through it still, but I know it won’t last long.
He poured the water. It drips through the fabric into my mouth and I hold my breath, until I can’t. And I’m gasping and I can’t breathe I can’t breathe.
His hand is pinching my nose closed, the other around my throat.
And then the pillowcase is gone and I’m gulping in breaths of air, gasping.
He gives me a kiss and asks if I’d like more.
And again. And again.
And then it’s Saran Wrap.
You can breathe, a little, through the wet fabric. Saran Wrap is suffocating. There is no air.
And when you pour water over it?
Pure fear.
I tap out.
He hits me with the wet pillowcase, then shoves it over my head, kisses me through the wet fabric.
After making me expose my holes and spanking me and beating my tits he walked into the bathroom and told me to “stay.” I heard the water to the tub turn on and it took me a couple seconds to realize what he’s going to do to me. He comes back and shoves himself in my mouth wasting time choking me and slapping always keeping an ear and half an eye on the level of water in the bath. A couple minutes later he walked away into the bathroom and called for me.
I crawled into the bathroom to see a full tub awaiting me. I curled up at his feet and immediately started whimpering. “Bend over the tub,” he ordered. I got in position and my head was quickly shoved beneath the freezing cold water. I tried and stay calm and hold my breath but water seeped into my nose causing me to thrash against him. He let me up to breath after I tapped three times on the bathroom wall. I started to sob against him my cold soaking hair was dripping water down me. He hushed me and asks me to get back down in position. I protested and whined through my sobs until he gave me an ultimatum, two more dunks into the tub or 11 hard cunt slaps. He pinched my nipple and pulled it harshly, “make a choice or you get both he growls.” I couldn’t think straight with him pulling my nipple so hard and I begged him to stop. When he finally let it free I came the decision of more dunks in the tub.
I was shivering soaked in cold water and tears as I knelt back over the white rim and was taking periodical deep breath preparing myself for the harsh cold and being held under. He grabbed my neck as I worried about the worst his other hand found its way down to my cunt. He laughed at me and exclaimed what a slut I was for getting a soaking wet cunt from being tortured. Sploosh. I was back under the bath this time with fingers in my cunt. I relaxed myself for a second or two but once again water poured into my nose, this time because I moaned, and even with him fingering me I couldn’t keep my calm. I was pushing my body against him as hard as I could but it was no use since he’s much stronger than me and I’m so small. Once again I tapped three times and he let me up for a breath. I breathed in sharply and got halfway through my inhale before his hand came down over my mouth and nose. I tried to exclaim how I needed a breath but he held me there for a few more seconds before giving me relief. I took a big breath in but only one before my head was forced back into the frigid water. He let me up after a bit of fighting this time and once again covered my mouth. I used my eyes to plead with him and finally he let me breath. I took as many deep breaths as I could to catch up on the missed ones.
I was sitting there shivering again and crying while he dragged me to his room and up to his mirror. Holding me by the neck he stated, “ Look at what a whore you are.” I sat there dripping on his hardwood, freezing cold and starting at my messy soaking hair and running makeup with tears streaming down my cheeks. All I could manage was to nod in agreement. I asked for a towel to dry off so I didn’t get anything else wet. He brought me one and wrapped it around me. I looked up to his cock out and opened my mouth to suck. “See isn’t it so easy to forget what happened when there’s a cock in your mouth,” he said tenderly and stroked my hair. I was shivering still and so he pulled me up into bed and tucked the covers around me. I started to cry a little again as he left the room only to come back with the wooden paddle.
I begged him not to hit me any more I begged with everything I had pleading, “please be nice to me Sir, please!” over and over again. He hit me a few times hard. He had to sit on my upper body to hold me down. I was so overwhelmed and and exhausted that I cried out,“ I NEED you to be nice to me.”
He stopped immediately and put the paddle aside hushing me. He pulled me in close to him. He was on top and he started to pet my hair as he slid inside of me. He kept telling me what I good girl I had been, telling me how I deserved to be fucked. “It’s okay baby, daddy is here,” he whispered, “it’s okay. Shhhhhh.” I went back and forth between tears and moaning against him. I looked him in the eyes, “ you’re such a good girl I want you to say it,” he moaned.
“I’ve been such a good girl,” I whimpered back at him.
Reblogging this because I posted it very late last night and it’s a really good read and was a really hot experience!!
It only takes one word from him. My least favourite word. He knows it; he’s doing it to get a reaction.
“Moist.” He grins.
I punch him in the belly. Not a real punch, because I don’t want to actually piss him off. Playful. A tap.
Pushing the boundaries, since he’d explicitly told me I would regret hitting him.
“Did you just fucking punch me?” His voice is low and angry.
An open hand lands on my thigh, drawing a scream and a loud slapping noise, flesh meeting flesh.
I try to cover myself with my arms as he raises his fist. “I’ll fucking show you what a punch looks like,” he says, in his scary, I Mean Business voice. This is not the voice that he uses when he laughs with me, or fucks me, or talks with me. It’s not the voice he uses in scenes. It’s the voice he conjures forth when he is genuinely enraged.
I am afraid. I’ve never before felt with him like he was going to really hurt me. He stares me down, arm still raised, still threatening. My chest is heaving. I am shaking, goosebumps covering my body. I can feel the tears stinging my eyes.
He lowers his hand. “Did I scare the bunny?” I nod, and curl into his leg.
He pets my head as he contemplates. “Someday, you know, you’re going to be much less easy to scare. And that’s when I can truly fuck with you.”
There’s a tool in your arsenal you might not even realize: Grounding.
Denying privileges is a common D/s theme. How far of a step is it to sincerely ground someone for a short period? Not far at all.
A bratting bottom won’t stop acting up at a party. You pull them aside and inform them that not only are they being spanked when you get home, but they are grounded for the weekend.
This is patronizing, controlling, and incredibly belittling. In other words, many people will love it.
(But not all. Negotiate everything with a partner beforehand, including any possible snags with possible other partners or obligations. Have fun.)
I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth.
