Whispers of Submission

Surprise

Emma lay still, her eyes closed behind the blindfold, her body throbbing with desire. The sensory gel had intensified every sensation, and the ball gag in her mouth made her feel even more helpless and vulnerable. She strained against her bonds, her hips bucking in search of relief.

She listened intently, trying to gauge Sebastian's movements. She heard the clinking of metal and the rustle of fabric, followed by the creak of the bed as he sat down beside her. He ran a finger down her arm, and she shivered in response.

"I have a surprise for you," he said, his voice a low whisper.

He reached behind her and pulled something from the bed. As he moved closer, she caught a glimpse of a long, thin object. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what it was.

He leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear.

"This is a riding crop," he said, his voice a low purr. "It's going to make you feel things you've never imagined."

He trailed the crop along her arm, and she shivered as the cool tip touched her skin. Then, with a sharp crack, he brought it down on her shoulder, the impact sending a jolt of pain through her.

She cried out, her voice muffled by the gag, as the crop struck her shoulder again and again. Each blow was sharp and precise, and she felt the pain radiating through her body. But it was a good pain, a thrilling pain that left her breathless.

He moved the crop down her arm, striking her wrist, her hand, and then her fingers. Each blow was measured and deliberate, and Emma felt her body growing hotter with each strike.

He moved to her other arm, continuing the slow, deliberate torture. She writhed on the bed, her hips bucking, her sex growing wetter with each moment.

"Please," she begged, her voice muffled. "More."

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing over her cheek.

"Soon, my sweet," he said, his voice a low promise.

He continued to strike her arms, his blows precise and controlled. Emma's body throbbed with each strike, and she felt her desire building to a breaking point.

Finally, he stepped back from the bed, and Emma lay panting, her body slick with sweat. She strained to hear his movements, but the room was silent.

Then, with a sharp crack, the crop descended on her stomach, the impact sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through her. She cried out, her voice muffled, as the crop struck her stomach again and again.

He worked his way up her chest, stroking her breasts, her collarbone, and then her neck. Each blow was a delicious torment, and Emma writhed on the bed, her hips bucking uncontrollably.

He moved back to her stomach and began to trace a pattern of blows, each one landing with perfect precision. He drew a line from her belly button to her pubic bone, and Emma felt her sex throbbing with desire.

He stepped back from the bed, and Emma listened as he moved around the room. She heard the rustle of fabric again, and then he was back, his hands on her hips, guiding her to sit up.

He pulled her towards him, and she felt his hard cock pressing against her stomach. He guided her hands to his belt, and she fumbled with the buckle, her hands still trembling with desire.

He groaned as she finally released his erection, and it sprang free, pointing towards the ceiling. He guided her hands around it, and she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, her palms slick with the sensory gel.

He groaned again, his head falling back as she began to stroke him, her hands moving up and down his length. He reached down and took her hand in his, guiding her stroke.

"That's it, my sweet," he said, his voice strained. "Stroke it nice and slow."