I will spank you until you cry and then rub you until you sigh.
The metal workshop was on a dead end street in the industrial area of the city. This evening, the street was deserted and all the buildings were locked up for the weekend. Rows of large roll up doors and blank security doors all shuttered.
What had she gotten herself into? It wasn't too late to still go home. Maybe she'd had enough of this stuff. But her clit throbbed now and she could feel her wetness growing. Each time she crossed this line of slight fear, she had reaped the reward, this time would be the same.
She secretly thought this couldn't possibly top the Helmut Newton escapade, where she had gone to Union Square dressed only in a trench coat and heels and walked around downtown, feeling her nakedness as if she was fully naked on the December night. He had walked with her until she was ready then commanded her to open the coat and show her nakedness, first in a quick flash in a shop mirror then to a deserted alley and it had felt that she was exposing herself to half of San Francisco as she held her coat out to her sides at 180 degrees to the chilly indifference of the downtown buildings. Then she had moaned as he touched her clit in that very public place where cars parked all day and people bustled in and out of restaurants. She imagined with her eyes closed that it was daytime and she was exposing herself and being touched this way as people and cars went by. It was thrilling and naughty...and very erotic. A finger on her clit in a locked bedroom never felt quite as good as it did there in that dark alley.
Now she sat in front of the grey warehouse in her car and wondered if she could top that last scene. She certainly hoped so.
He seemed to have a great imagination and wasn't clawing to get his penis into her as fast as he could. In fact he never had put it in her. He was very calm and deliberate in the way he stroked and caressed and stimulated her body, never hurrying to get anywhere. He preferred to concentrate on her pleasure and stretch it out as long as possible, searching for new, novel sensations, his satisfaction an afterthought or not important at all.
He could spend what seemed like hours in her memory just slightly touching his tongue to the shaved edges of her labia and move up and down very slowly. Just when she thought she couldn't stand the suspense, he'd give a soft wet lick to her clit that would send her brain spinning in ecstasy and steel her for more slow licks on her pussy. Her mouth would open and words would drift out like dry ice fog: "That's.....sooooo fine.....You...know.....how good.....that feeeeels"
He never took advantage of his position, always asked permission to touch her in a new or a different way. It made her feel safe and soon she would trust him enough to encourage him to just do what he wanted with her, not ask, so she would be aroused at the unexpected affront and brutalness of giving up all control to someone and subject to their will entirely.
That was why she felt OK about coming here. She parked her car and locked it and banged on the door at 2261.
He led her to the back of the shop and there were literally tons of metal things all around...heavy equipment, concrete floor. The image in her mind of her soft smooth body against these cold hard surfaces gave her gooseflesh. This is what spurred her on, like a true artist, always looking for new combinations of dissimilar objects or materials in a beautiful and novel way.
It was how she thought about him when she remembered them together: the juxtaposition of the cat thwacking across her thighs and then tickling her clit; his hand smacking smartly across her ass followed by his tongue again barely flicking her clit. Such an exquisite contrast. She loved to touch herself as she thought of these things.
She followed him as in a dream, for she gave up control when she was with him and let him guide her as an obedient child. He stopped at the yellow forklift. There was a new drop cloth spread beneath the forks jutting out from the machine about six feet above the floor.
"Take off your clothes and put these on." he said as he handed her some fleece lined wrist restraints. He sat down in a black leather easy chair to watch her carefully. "Don't dilly dally, this isn't a strip tease", he scolded.
She quickly stripped and folded her clothes across the table nearby and then wrapped the restraints around her wrist and tried to fasten the buckles. "Here, let me do that" he growled, grabbing her arm bruskly. When they were closed, he attached a rope through each of the rings and looped it over the forks above her and knotted each side securely. This is what she loved about him. Very at ease with the physical world...tied the knots quickly and expertly. No time for embarrassment or any triteness to creep in and spoil the effect. She held her bound hands in front of her, nipples hardening in the cold air, a little apprehensive but excited at the same time. Another luscious contrast!
He reached to the machine and pulled a lever. There was a hoisting noise and the forks began to rise, pulling her arms up as well, until she was standing with her heels off the floor and her arms stretched out at 45 degree angles. My God that was quick, she thought and she was aware of her bare breasts pulled up on her torso vulnerably and her stomach and pelvis almost hanging below. She was just high enough to balance on the balls of her feet, not uncomfortable and she could almost relax her legs and let herself hang by her arms alone.
The skin around the clit achieves a certain tautness when a woman is standing with her arms stretched above her head, causing it to protrude more...it is most arousing, she thought.
Even though she was powerless to go anywhere, she felt somehow safe and secure, another nice juxtapoz. The wrist restraints were very soft and supportive and she loved the way her breasts pulled up, a fact that was advertised quite clearly by her rock hard nipples. She noticed that she had stopped breathing momentarily and had to remind herself to start again with deep quivering breaths.
"So my Dear...we meet again under similar circumstances" he said as he walked around her snapping the riding crop into his palm. Oh God the crop! She found that the crop was a little too severe on her bare skin...she loved it if she had some jeans on but it was just too much otherwise. Well she did like it when he flicked it gently across her nipples...if only he would do that now. God she was sooo ready for any sensation! Keep breathing...try to stay calm...center yourself.
There was something to Pavlov's theory and she was certainly salivating at both ends right now.
"You have been very unkind with me. Kept yourself from me much too long again. Didn't you promise me last time it would be soon that I would see you again? And here I have lost my other dalliance and been left to my own devices and you..." here he whacked her smartly on the buttock. A #5 on a scale of 1 to 10, not too bad. "You are still taking pleasure with your other man regularly even though you told me he was history." another #5 whack.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" He was in her face and she couldn't look him in the eye...knew better than to try. It was true, he had caught her in a bit of jiggery-pokery as they say in England. She let the sting wash through her and knew that she had no excuse and even if she did it would sound lame right now.
"Well?" He asked, whacking her again.
She whimpered "Nothing, sir."
"I couldn't hear you very well. What did you say?" A sharp #6 stung her ass again and she yelped quite loudly, suddenly scared that someone might hear her and then realized that there was no one that would be concerned anywhere within earshot.
"Nothing, Sir!" she said quite loudly.
"That's more like it, my Dear. What do you say to a little flogging to pay for your duplicitous ways?"
"Yes please, Sir!" she rang out.
He picked up the cat and started draping it around her body, exciting her nerves and skin.
"I think we should give you ten good whacks and I want you to count each one loudly, but only count the ones that are good solid hits. Then we'll see where we are."
.
He smiles at her jumpiness and knows she secretly savors it. He then pulls the lever on the forklift again and the forks raise again, lifting her off the ground. The tension of the rope causes her to spin slowly, and he smiles as he touches her and easily turns her to face him. Her clitoris protrudes from its sheath and is exactly level with his mouth. He touches it with his tongue momentarily and then pushes her away and lets her turn and swing slightly. After a moment he licks her again, once and lets her slowly rotate. This is wild...she has no idea where he is and with the mask on, she has no way of knowing how high she is off the ground! His tongue darts in without warning and licks her again and again. She is swooning in sensation...again the tongue and then just floating in the air, the chi wave whooshing through her...she can sense him near but can't tell when he will lick next. Just when she thinks he has given up he licks again and quickly another so there's no discernable rhythm to match her arousal to. Oh God this can't go on too much longer...I will lose my mind! Her breath is ragged and uncontrolled.
Then she hears the lever being pulled again and the hoisting noise. She is going up again.
"This goes up to 16 feet, you know." he says.
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