He enters the room and sees that she is sleeping. Good. It will be easier this way. It is warm out and she is on top of the covers, half curled on her side and facing away from him. He had mentioned that he might be coming over and he is glad that she dressed for that possibility. She is wearing a matching satin camisole and tap pant set and the lustrous, pale pink of her lingerie only serves to emphasize her long legs, smooth arms and bare shoulders. Cascades of walnut hair spill onto her pillow.

He has been planning this for days and wants everything to be perfect. He is wearing the black jeans that she picked out for him, the ones that she claims make his ass look great, and a white cotton sleeveless tee. His feet are bare, his head and jaw freshly shaved, and he smells lightly of his usual cologne. Dinner is cooking in the oven, the table is set with her best dishes and candles are just waiting to be lit. The food won't be ready for hours but he is confident that they can find some way to pass the time.

He sets his bag down quietly at the side of the bed except for one item which he quietly sets on the night table. He makes sure that it is hidden under a book; he doesn't want to ruin her surprise.

He eases carefully onto the bed behind her, marvelling once more how beautiful she is and how lucky he is to be with her. He can see her face in profile from where he is, her face smooth and innocent in her slumber. She is smiling slightly in her sleep and he can see now that she is clutching a small volume of erotic poetry and that it is now resting against the side of her face.

He wakes her with kisses.

He kneels over her, one hand easing the book of poetry away while the other sweeps her hair back and presses his lips gently to that place behind her ear. He eases his body behind hers, one hand sliding along the soft, velvety length of her arm and shoulders while he traces a line of gentle, loving kisses down the line of her neck.

He can feel the slight tensing of her body and hear the change in her breathing as she rises into wakefulness. He can't see her smile but he can feel it through the skin of her neck. She doesn't say anything, just moans languidly and tries to turn so that she can face him, but he doesn't let her. Hands that were gently caressing her now tighten and hold her in place even as his lips continue to move down her shoulder.

She doesn't fight him very hard and settles down against the pillow with a gentle moaning sigh. She does bend her head forward, exposing more of her neck to his ministrations at the same time as she presses her ass into his denim covered crotch. He's already hard for her and knows she can feel it.

Her free hand snakes back and comes into contact with his hip. Her strong fingers stroke and tighten over the rough fabric before reaching backwards and cupping his asscheek and pulling his hips against her.

He smiles against the smooth skin of her shoulder and rewards her behaviour with a gentle bite before grinding his hips against her ass. She moans.

He trails a gentle line of bites back up her shoulder to her neck and is rewarded by a series of gentle gasps that escape her lips. He reaches down, gently pulls her hand away from his ass and places it across her stomach. Her keeps her wrist gripped in his hand and feels the soft, smooth flesh of her stomach in between strips of satin. He presses against it, hugging her waist and hips against his, while his lips capture the lobe of her ear and gently sucks on it.

She moans again and turns her head towards him, her lips seeking. He lets them find him and then, finally, they are truly kissing. Her tongue is aggressive and probing, belying her passive acceptance of his attentions. He meets her every action with his own and they spend a small eternity joined at the mouth while her hand breaks out of his gentle prison and takes his. Their fingers entwine as they slide up and down the length of her stomach.

He doesn't know how it happens, but somehow she ends up laying on her back while he half sits beside her, half lays on top of her. Her hands are clutching and roaming his back while his are on either side of her head, supporting his weight as he presses her face into hers.

He is enjoying this, but it's not part of his plan. He shifts his weight, freeing his hands, and then trails his kisses down the front of her neck. He licks his tongue across the hollow of her shoulder, across the thin strap of her camisole and is rewarded when she gasps and shudders.

He slides both hands up her bare arms until his finds her wrists and grabs them. Pulling her hands up to his mouth, he kisses both of her palms and gives two of her fingers playful nips before holding them against her stomach and leaning over her satin covered breasts.

Her nipples are plainly visible through the fabric. He plunges his mouth over her right one and sucks it hungrily through the satin. She gives a moaning sigh from above him and he knows without looking that her eyes are closed and her head is gently tossing back and forth. Part of him wants to stop just so he can see the transcendent expression she gets on her face at times like this, but that's not part of his plan. He'll have plenty of chances to see her later.

Her breasts taste of citrus, Woolite, and that perfect flavour that is just her. He sucks strongly, trailing his tongue in rough circles around the areola before giving a not-so-gentle bite, causing her gentle moan to change into a sudden gasp.

He smiles and transfers his mouth to her other breast. He can see the dark pink stain where his mouth was against the otherwise light coloured fabric. She tries half heartedly to free her hands from where he holds them, but he doesn't let her; not yet. Her legs are spread and her hips start to thrust convulsively. He knows what she wants but doesn't give it to her. There will be time enough for that later.

He sucks on and bites at her breasts for a while, long enough for her whole body to begin thrashing and for her moans to take on a desperate quality. He smiles. It's time to move on. He pulls her hands over her head, pinning them in place with his own before he bends over her and begins ravaging her mouth. She kisses back eagerly, her hands tugging for freedom while her bare legs rise and lower, narrow and widen seemingly of their own volition.

She's caught completely by surprise when he handcuffs her wrists to the headboard.

Her blue eyes snap open and he can see both shock and anticipation shining in them. He straightens up, savouring the moment and the expression on her face. He smiles in cruel amusement, knowing that even through this she can see his love for her. He keeps that smile exactly the same as he slides his hands beneath the bottom of her camisole and quickly, harshly jerks up and over her breasts. It catches beneath her shoulder blades and he pulls harder, hearing fabric rip until it lays across her shoulders like a shimmering pink wave. 'Screw it, ' he thinks and pulls at the fabric until it rips then tosses it aside.

Her bare breasts are perfect, as always, and with her arms shackled above her head they look even higher and fuller on her chest. He wants to run his tongue across their undersides and feel her bare, stiff nipple against his lips but that's not part of the plan. Instead, twisting his cruel smile into a sneer, he grabs both breasts in his hands and digs his fingers in savagely. It's hard enough to leave marks and she cries out in both pleasure and pain, her back arching and body writhing.

He doesn't let this side of himself out often. Surely anyone who knows him would never suspect that he could do this to one he loves and enjoy doing it, but with her he can. With her he can unleash his all of his anger and frustration and rage and know that she can take all of it and want more. It bothered him at first that she likes it this way, this combination of cruelty and pleasure, but she has forced him to confront his darkest heart and accept it. For her, he will do this. He will do this and like it, knowing that if he ever does go too far she has a safeword to ensure her safety. She's never had to use it yet.

She's writhing and grimacing in pain as he continues to squeeze her breasts in his hands. She gasps with relief when he stops, but it is short lived. He gives her only a second of reprieve before catching her hard nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pinches them with all of his strength.

She screams as he pulls her breasts away from her body and twists as hard as he can. She is almost crying as he pulls them first up, then down and then in circles before stopping. Her legs are rubbing together and scissoring impotently and he realizes that he's forgotten something. He jerks her tap pants—it's stupid name for a garment; they're just expensive jogging shorts—down her legs and exposes her furry pussy to him. He likes that she doesn't shave there because that is how he likes to see her.

He jams his fingers between her legs and finds everything there already slick and lubricated. He rubs two fingers roughly between her labial lips and she gives out a gasping cry that turns into a surprised yelp as he forces those same fingers deep into her vagina. He saws them in and out—they're totally coated in her juices—while his other hand presses hard against her clit. She gives a high pitched moan and begins to grind her hips into his hand.

When he thinks she's getting close he stops.

"Noooo..." she moans, raising her hips of the bed and spreading her legs widely.

"You're not getting off that easily," he growls, happy with the pun even as he knows that she is in no mood to appreciate it. Her nearest breast is still an angry red from his earlier abuse of it and he gives it a slap with his open hand. "Turn over. Get on your knees," he orders and slaps her other breast when she doesn't immediately comply.

Her cuffs are attached to a ring that allows them to rotate freely. She has no trouble turning over and he takes a moment to enjoy the sight of her body bending and twisting below him. Moments like this, when he is watching her lithe grace, remind him that she used to be a dancer and has total control over her body.

Their eyes meet and he sees raw lust there. She is eager and willing to accept whatever degradation he might do to her. He is happy to oblige her.

He puts a hand between her shoulders and presses her upper body down into the mattress while his other hand undoes the button on his jeans. Her eyes are focussed on the bulge inside his pants as he pulls the zipper down slowly and reaches inside his underwear.

He's been hard since almost the beginning and it feels good to release his aching erection. Its head is an angry purple colour and it bobs in sync with his heartbeat. He lets her watch it for a moment before grabbing her head with both of his hands and shoving it towards his crotch. "Suck it," he commands hoarsely even as her mouth opens eagerly to receive it.

Her warm mouth wraps around him and he can only groan. It's been days since he was last here and he knows he's not going to last long, not with how long he's been having his way with her. He has one had on her neck and the other on the side of her head. She starts bobbing her head back and forth even before he can push her towards him and force himself deeper into her mouth.

His eyes half close into slits as he loses himself to sensation. Even handcuffed to a bed, even in an awkward position like he has her, she has a truly great mouth and isn't shy about using it. His hands loosen and he groans as her lips slide up and down his shaft and her lips swirl around his head.

He's getting close now and he tightens his grip on her head again, doing his best to force his cock down her throat. She's never actually deep throated him but she can take him freakily far down her mouth. He can hear her gagging as it presses against the back of her throat, but he knows she likes it that way. He stopped feeling guilt over that long ago.

He's crying out now every time he rams her face into his crotch and is also pumping his hips towards her. All it does it make her try harder and seconds later he crying out loud as pumps a week's worth of thick, milky sperm into her mouth. She takes it all, just like she always does, draining him with a smile before tonguing the opening of his urethra.

He releases her and staggers back, ignoring the inevitable sense of loss as his softening cock slips free of her. A small trail of saliva is all that connects them and then it, too, is gone. He wants to lay down, to spoon his body into hers and feel her hair against his face as he recovers from the amazing orgasm she gave him, but that isn't part of the plan. He settles his cruel smile onto his face like a mask.

"That was ... you were ... adequate." He clears his throat and tries to think of anything more to say. His mind is blank, so he goes onto the next part of the plan. Lifting his hand to his shoulder, he steps to the side and then brings his open palm down on her left ass cheek.

She loves being spanked, he knows this, and so he reaches down inside himself to that same part of him that conceived of this plan in the first place. He slaps her magnificent ass seven more times, four on each cheek until they are both a bright, angry shade of red. She has cried out with each hit and he can see that her pussy is red, swollen and glistening.

"I have three different things that I can beat you with," he growls, reaching down into his bag. "I haven't decided which one you deserve the most, so we'll have to try all of them to be sure." He pulls out a thirty inch fibreglass rod, coated in a thin clear plastic sheathe. The rod is maybe an eighth of an inch in diameter and very flexible. He knows firsthand that it can leave painful welts.

She is still resting on her elbows, her head still at the proper height for blowing him off. He flicks his wrist and the rod whips out and catches her shoulder. "On your hands and knees!" he barks. She is slow to comply—purposefully—and he flicks her again, this time across her neck. "Now!"

She complies and then the whipping truly begins. The rod whistles through the air as it strikes across the back of her thighs, leaving an angry red mark, and she cries out in both pain and pleasure. He rears back and brings it down on her calves, making her jump.

He is standing behind her and she cranes her neck back to see him, her face twisted in anticipation and dread. He gives her a quick swat across her left ass cheek. "Eyes front!" Again she is slow to comply and again he strikes her, this time on the other cheek.

"Eyes front, or do you want me to blind fold you?" he growls.

She is unable to hide the excitement in her face. "Is that what you want? You want to be blind folded?" He whips her forearm near her wrist and she jerks back in pain even as she smiles. "Answer me!" He punctuates his question with a series of welt-making strikes across her back.

"Yes! I want you to blind fold me. Please." Her voice is meek but gleeful.

"And why should I do what you want?" he demands, even as he reaches into his bag to pull out the leather blind fold. He wasn't sure if was going to use or not, but thought it better to be prepared. "If I put this on you, what will you do for me?"

"I'll..." she smiles. "I'll let you fuck me."

He chuckles. "I'm going to fuck you anyway, and there isn't anything you can do about it. What else will you do for me?"

"I ... don't know."

He gently pulls her hair back before settling the blind fold across her eyes. "Will you scream for me?" he whispers into her ear.

She shivers. "Yes, I will. I'll scream for you."

He reaches into his bag and pulls out the next one of his tools. It is a 'slapper', a twelve inch double thick black leather strap on the end of a handle with extra strips attached to it. The extra strips don't make it hurt more, but they do make a very loud noise when it is used. In this bedroom, if he strikes hard enough, it will sound like a gunshot.

He walks around behind her but doesn't touch her. He can see turn her head, trying to follow him with her ears. He stops in front of her ass, still pink from where he spanked her and waits. Her movements become faster, more desperate as she tries to determine where he is and what he is doing. He raises the slapper slowly and deliberately, ensuring that he makes no sound, before bringing it down just below her tailbone. The whip-crack sound it makes is only slightly louder than her ecstatic cry of pain.

He loses himself to the beating of her. His arm raises and falls like a metronome as he thoroughly and methodically paddles every square inch of her ass. Each time the sound of it striking her flesh echoes through the bedroom and each time she cries out in comingled agony and ecstasy. He lets that part of him out—'all the stuff in the closet, ' as he heard in a movie once—and channels all of his anger and frustration into the stiff leather and the smooth, round, red flesh its attached to.

He stops when his arm gets tired. She's still there on all fours, though now her head is hanging low and her back is sagging. She never said her safeword, so he knows she can still take more. He was hoping so. He still has more toys.

He steps up to her head, grips her chin and pulls her face the side. He presses his lips against hers, not so much kissing her as assaulting her mouth with his own. She returns his kiss passionately, moaning deep in her throat. That moan becomes a startled yelp as he bites her lip hard enough to draw blood before stepping back and leaving here there, gasping.

His third toy is a red rubber flogger. It's hard plastic grip is attached to a dozen eighteen inch rubber strings, each of which are tipped with a hard plastic bead. It stings like the devil, as he well knows, but doesn't cut.

"Are you ready for my new toy?" he asks her, trailing it tantalizingly down her back. She just moans and shivers. He gives it a quick flick and a dozen plastic beads strike her sensitive, slick pussy. She yelps. "I asked you a question. Are you ready for more? Do you want it?"

"Yes!" Her voice is hoarse with desire. "I want more."

He doesn't answer, just brings the flogger and its hard plastic beads down across the bottom of her bare foot. When she cries out he does it again, this time to her other foot. Already the welts are forming. He swings it through the air and she tenses, waiting for a blow that doesn't come. She is still blindfolded and unable to see him. He waits until she begins to squirm and then brings the flogger down across the small of her back.

He continues like this, hitting different parts of her body at random and at irregular intervals. No part of her is safe except for her face, hands and neck. She has to go to work tomorrow, after all. He knows that she'll relish the dull pain and hidden marks beneath her severe, professional clothing and that every time she winces she'll think of what was happening here now.