The Hand

He teases my clothes off me, laughingly undoing my bra, giggling as my breasts fall into his hands. But sooner or later, his eyes will find me, drill into the centre of me. His hand reaches out and unambiguously closes around my throat, constricting, squeezing, choking. I gasp - surprise, fear - yes, but undisguisable desire. My mouth drops open a little, lips wet with the previous kisses. My eyes open that bit wider - my heart hammering in my chest. I am pinned to the spot, by his hand, by his look. All I can do is gaze at him, knowing I can't resist, knowing that he now controls my every thought and action. All I can do is gaze, and silently beg him to fuck me. Now. Hard.

Hurts so good

Ok, so I've always "got" bondage - the mental power exchange of restraint, of control, of dominance and submission, but I was never a pain freak....or so I thought. The very first moment of the first time D & I got into bed together he confessed that he had a fetish for having his nipples bitten. And so I obliged, but I was worried that I was hurting him. Last night he admitted that it was never hard enough and demonstrated on me. Oh Christ, I'm a convert. Yes, I was imagining my wrists fastened behind my back to stop me pushing his teeth & nails away, but just a look from him froze me to the spot as his head went down and his lips pulled back. Who knew I could orgasm just from having my right nipple bitten? Not me - took me totally by surprise. I'm purring now!

Oh, and the best version was Susan Cadogan's.