“Then have me,” I countered breathily. “Do what you want, I can’t stop you. I... can’t... stop... you.” God, that sounded good.
The way I was tied wasn’t the best way to have sex; the angles were all wrong. But he unzipped, slid a condom on and pushed between my legs
until it was sliding along the length of my labia, not penetrating me at all. It was bloody exciting, though, and giving us both pressure on
the right parts. I should have been worried about contraception, but I wasn’t, so I’m glad he did. This was animal, sex from our primitive
roots when contraceptive hadn’t been invented. An ancient Indian might have recognised our sexual dance, far, far removed from the sterility
of conventional sex.
He was holding onto my shoulders as he thrust faster and faster and eventually, frantically, pulled out and tore off the rubber before he
erupted over my pubes, leaving me high and er... very wet.
Suddenly it was as if he was regretting the whole episode. He’d had his fun and wanted out. And I really thought he was going to leave me
“Please, don’t leave me like this,” I pleaded, but I think he interpreted that as me wanting my orgasm. In any case it worked, because he
started untying me. I hate being untied.
But he only released my right arm.
“Do yourself. While I watch,” he demanded.
Of course I masturbated. But not in public. I know I blushed. Can you imagine that? There I was, in a totally public place, naked except
for my shoes and tied hand and foot to a tree by a man I’d only met a few hours beforehand, and I was blushing about masturbating.
“Do it,” he said, sensing my hesitation, a slightly menacing edge creeping into his voice. He knew, as I knew, we needed this edge, this
assertion of control from him, but we also knew that one false move could ruin the whole thing.
“Do it or I’ll spank you.”
I stared at him and saw he was serious.
Did I want to overcome my embarrassment, or did I want a spanking? I still have no idea. I wanted neither and I wanted both, my mind a
welter of confusion. But my hand was already moving, downwards, to familiar places, across my belly and pubic hair and into the soaked
valley beneath. I knew exactly what to do and exactly where to touch; it was only my shyness that prevented me, and that was totally
overshadowed by the confusion of lust and desire to obey.
“Wait,” he interrupted suddenly, then picked up more rope and told me to open my mouth. He pressed it there and wrapped it round the tree,
four or five times so it forced my lips apart and pressed down on my tongue, preventing me from uttering much more than a garbled moan.
“Now do it,” he ordered.
Marcus watched me, and I watched Marcus; until my eyes closed of their own accord and my body took over. When the convulsions had finished,
my whole body gave way and I sagged into the support and protection of my bonds.
Soon enough I realised I was cold, and insects were feasting on my exposed skin. Marcus untied me and tossed me my dress. As he gathered up
the ropes, I just had to ask.
“Would you really have spanked me?”
A red rag to a bull.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the car, sitting on the bonnet and dragging me across his lap. I fought and I struggled, but he was
far too strong. I called him a bastard and a sadist, but he took no notice. The first slap stopped me dead. I stopped struggling and thought
about the indignity of that slap and of my bare bottom pointing up at him. And I wondered what he was thinking, too. It seemed an age before
he struck again, twice as hard, and triggered a renewal of my struggling and shouting.
Six, he gave me. Why is it always six? That must be some kind of magic number in SM circles. But it was enough to subdue me, to make me
realise I actually liked this, liked his control and power. With that realisation I stopped my struggling and name calling.
“You deserved that,” he told me, his hand resting on my overheated bottom.
“Yes.” I had thought about protesting, but all the fight had gone. “Yes, Master.”
I remembered all the talk, all the things my friends had said about what you could do to make a man feel really special. I slid to my knees
on the dirt and reached for his zip, only to find it was still undone and he was again powerfully erect. That, in turn, reminded me of where
he’d been and the possibility he was still coated from me or the rubber. But I didn’t care. I just fed him into my mouth and closed my eyes,
feeling used tears run down my cheeks.
He told me later that this was the first time any woman had done this for him, but maybe, now I think back on it, he was lying. Whatever
the truth, he gasped and moaned as my inexperienced mouth became his eager slave, my tongue sliding over the smooth skin of his bulb and my
lips imitating the movements of sex. His hand loosely gripped the back of my head, holding a tuft of my hair as he dictated the rhythm. I
hadn’t thought ahead to what would happen when he ejaculated, but as he got so obviously close I started to worry about it. In the event, he
decided for me, yanking my head back and grasping his cock into his first. With a few powerful strokes he erupted all over my face, going
into my eyes (that smarts, guys, so please warn us first so we can close our eyes), my nose and over my lips.
I dared myself to taste him, but I chickened out. Before I could reason it through, he’d produced my dress and was cleaning my face and his
cock with it.
After I’d dressed and he’d tidied himself up, we drove in silence back to the mall car park for my car. The silence was so intense
that I knew what would be coming when he dropped me off. I could imagine his words. “That was very good, thank you. I’ll call you.” Or
something similar. He’d had his fun, so why continue? And, to be fair, I’d had my fun, too. I had no need to complain. Yet I’d tasted more
forbidden fruit. And forbidden fruit is addictive.
My car stood alone in the middle of the car park, looking cold under the harsh yellow glare of the overhead lamps. It had started to
drizzle - that fine rain that smears your screen when you switch the wipers on, but make it too fuzzy to see through without them. He
stopped next to it and left the engine running - a quick getaway?
“Thank you for tonight,” he said quietly.
“Thank you,” I countered.
“Did you enjoy being tied and spanked?”
“Yes. I need it,” I replied.