Archive-name: Bondage/someday.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Someday


     I lay in my bed, resting after my noon swim, listening to
the wind and the rain outside.  Quietly drifting through my
thought is the knowledge that I should be up, some task certainly
awaits my attention, but for the moment I am quiet.  I fall
asleep.  
     Suddenly I am awakened by someone roughly grabbing my right
leg and tying it to the left post of the bed.  I feel my right
leg grabbed and I twist towards him trying to hold him back and
not allow him to tie my leg.  He slaps my face and shoves me back
down on the bed, holding me down with his hand on my back.  He
pulls my arms under me and then his left knee moves to my back to
hold me in place.  As he pulls his belt loose from his pants, I
notice he is still fully dressed.  
     I whimper, it does not take any great foresight to know that
his belt will be used on me.  I cringe what little I can in this
precarious position - my hands are pinned beneath me.  I wiggle
to free one of them as I hear him doubling up the belt.  I turn
towards him and plead for leniency. 
     'Please, be gentle, I meant no harm, I am sorry for my
error', not even knowing what I had done to anger him.  
     He is angry, the deep scowl on his face warns me of that
fact.  He merely grunts and pulls his arm holding the belt back. 
My struggles increase and I close my eyes, not wanting to see the
belt descending.
'

     SLAM, the burning across my upper thighs pulls a scream from
my throat.  
     SLAM, this time across the cheeks of my ass. Once again I
scream, this time following with tears and my whimpers increase. 
I am wiggling as hard as I can still with no success.
     'Hold still' he barks.  My motion stops in hopes that his
will also, but to no avail - as for the third time his belt
cracks across my ass.  As the sting builds, he releases me and I
curl up on my side trying to hide from him.  My hair falls across
my face obscuring it from his view.  I lie there sobbing, trying
not to draw his attention as he gets up from the bed.  My legs
are tied open and I cannot hide from him as well as I would wish;
I scoot closer to the end of the bed trying to pull myself into a
ball.  As I hear him moving around the room I follow him with my
eyes, but as he comes closer to the bed I close them.  He roughly
grabs my hair and pulls my head back to force me to look at him. 
As I slowly open my eyes, his hand slaps my face.  My eyes close
again as I await his next move.
     Silence for awhile.  When he pulled me up I ended up nearly
on my hands and knees.  My eyes are tightly closed and my body is
beginning to feel very alive. 
     'Open your eyes, little girl' he softly purrs.  
     I hesitate for a moment and he slaps me again.  I open my
eyes and look at him - his face only inches from mine seems
carved from stone.  I search his face for clues to his mood and
find nothing.  He watches me and knows my thoughts, sees my body
vulnerable and available to him.  I move my left hand to touch my
face where he hit me and still he watches.  I say nothing, not
only from fear but from total lack of coherency.  I can feel the
throbbing of my ass, my thighs and my face where he has struck
me.  
     I cannot explain the rush of pleasure that begins to pulse
through my body.  I only know it is real and sometimes can be
frightening.  He slowly releases my hair and moves away.  I am
frozen and watch him as he removes his clothing.  He has left the
belt on the bed beside me.  My heart races  I don't know if he
will whip me again and then fuck me or fuck me first.  It is
possible he will wait until I am near orgasm and then whip me,
forcing me to have an orgasm while he hurts me.   
     As he nears the bed, I adjust my position on the bed then
freeze at his harsh look.  My body is beginning to cramp from
holding such an awkward position.  He approaches me with two
scarves.  He gently turns my head away from him and places the
first across my eyes.  
     Darkness fills me, matching the darkness I receive from the
pleasure he gives me.  The pain allows me to roam freely in the
feeling of subservience and submission.  He turns my head towards
him.  I open my mouth anticipating the second scarf and too late
realize that I must never assume anything.  He quickly slaps my
face twice and watches as the hand prints appear there.
     'Now you may open your mouth.'  He stuffs most of the scarf
in, not bothering to tie it, knowing that I would no more spit it
out than untie my legs.  I am utterly his now.  I feel only
anticipation, thinking not even the simplest of thoughts and wait
for him.  I am gagged and only know that I will be whipped
severely.  
     He does like to hear me whimper and scream but would rather
let my body tell him how much he has hurt me.  I have very fair
skin that marks and bruises easily so he has learned to know my
limits by my twitches, struggles and the occasional muffled wail.
     I prefer to be gagged also.  I do not have to concentrate on
limiting the noise I make and I prefer to bite down on something
rather than clench my teeth until they hurt.  I merely bite down
on the gag and only when I am in the deepest grips of pain are
any cries wrenched from me.   
     My minds is drifting now, I await his next move.
     There is a know at the door. He pulls a blanket over me.  It
is the housekeeper, a sour old woman.  I hear her whining and
then hear him telling her I will be available at 3 to meet with
her.  He closes the door behind him.  My body has cooled in anger
and dislike of her, knowing that she would be smug at our 3
o'clock meeting.  
     I hear him rustling around the room opening drawers
obviously searching for something.  I then hear a drawer slamming
and I feel the blanket pulled from my back.  I am very stiff from
holding still and shift just a little.  He pushes me flat onto
the bed, my face getting buried in the fat feather pillow he
sleeps on.  It smells like him as I breath deeply, feeling my
muscles relax, he grabs my hands one at a time and puts a cuff on
them.  I take a deep breath waiting for my neck cuff, but instead
he clamps my hands together behind me across my back.  
     For what seems like hours I hear him standing beside me, his
even breaths accentuate my harsher ones.  I begin to feel my body
come alive as I listen to him, not knowing what will be next.
     Then I feel his weight settle on the bed.  His hand slides
along my back, down between my legs and he touches my clit,
softly rubbing at first then rougher.  He pulls away abruptly and
my body tries to follow him.  Successfully, it seems for he
pushes his thumb inside me, then adds his three fingers one by
one until I am pushing against him thrusting his fingers deeper
into me.  I moan deep in my throat and he pulls away.  My body
arches towards him.  
     It seems as though he was waiting for this movement for
suddenly the belt slams into my up thrust bottom.  I arch my back
in response and bite hard on the gag, but do not lower myself. 
His hand reaches out and softly caresses the mark he left on me,
my body feels alive again, aroused, excited.  I feel his hand
leave my skin and I involuntarily tense, awaiting the next blow I
hope will follow the last.  I quiver with response when the
expected blow arrives.  Again and again the belt finds different
areas on my ass and the tops of my thighs.  
     My hand tied behind me protect my back from his blows, not
that he normally hits me any higher than he is now.  My body is
on fire.  I can feel the edge of my limits, the limit of pain and
sensation flying towards me as he hits me harder and harder.  I
hear him panting now.  I do not know or really even consider if
he is panting from excitement or exhaustion.  He stops as
suddenly as he started. His hands begin caressing the criss
crossed patch of welts on my body.  I almost purr in response, as
I feel the bed lower as he places himself behind me.  I feel his
erection pushing against my cunt.  
     It finds no resistance, easily sliding into my wetness.  His
hands grab me, bringing the pain back to life.  His fingers dig
deeper into my bruises as he begins to slam into my pussy.  I am
very wet, I hear him as well as feel him, the pleasure builds.  I
continue to push back into him, not bashful of the need he has
aroused in me.  I match him stroke for stroke, each slamming,
pushing into the other.  
     He then stops pulls his cock out of me, slaps my butt twice
and then pushes his fully erect cock in to my ass.  I am ready
for this, it is the usual finale to this marvelous act and yet as
always I tense up a little.  His slaps help me relax until we
both feel my orgasm build.  On the next stroke he gets rougher
and then with each following stroke begins to build towards our
mutual release.  My body begins to twitch as my orgasm builds. 
Finally I cum and the muscles surrounding his cock contract and
send him tumbling over the edge at the same time.  
     We collapse to the bed.  He releases my hands and pulls the
gag and blind from my face.  We lie in bed, the quiet broken only
our harsh breathing.  He begins to gently caress me.  I know I
please him, not that he would say it to me, but afterward when he
holds me like this I feel his appreciation.  Or his remarks on
the depth of marks or a particularly colorful bruise are his
thanks to me for being silent.  On rare occasions he will tell me
what a good girl I was for taking so much.  He is so relaxed
after our sessions, so kind and gentle, it is a wonderful
contrast.  I turn towards him and touch him carefully, I love to
feel his strength with my hands after he has demonstrated it on
my body.  
     He begins discussing the days activities, I find out the
original whipping was because he had a business meeting canceled
and had nothing better to do.  After he talks for a bit, he
realizes my legs are still tied and gets off the bed to untie
them.  This is my signal that it is time to get to work, time to
organize the days activities, supervise the workers and make the
house run.  I wait eagerly for the dark, the coming of night when
we will be back in our room , away from the rest of the world and
its responsibilities.  
     Who is this man? obviously a husband, the period could be
virtually any time from the mid 1700's to the present.  Although
the feeling is always one where it is expected of me to be in the
home, seeing to my family's needs, serving my husband, but
something of the present fills me, the acceptance of my
submission to my husband seems to be a choice rather than
societies dictate.  I cherish that feeling, whenever I am with
someone now and feel, even for a moment, dominated and respected
for being that other half.  I save those moments, they find their
way into my fantasies, I treasure their presence and am always
seeking more.  He is out there, a man who wants a submissive
wife, yet understands that I can also be aggressive and
challenging.  I want to be not only his lady, but a woman to be
used for his pleasure, a woman who deserves and wants nothing
more than to be whipped and fucked - fulfilling both of our needs
and releasing the tensions the world can cause. 

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