Fear in the Living Room

He's got me sitting on the couch watching him tie rope to the bottom on the other ones legs. He's gonna, tie my feet to the ground and my arms behind my back and above my head. I hate being tied up.

He starts to knot me and I can feel the fear bubbling. I start craning my neck trying to see what he's brought to hit me with. The tawse, a crop a, cane, a carriage whip, other things I cant see. He pushes something expandable inside and pumps me open. My slippery over excited cunt contracts it out and I apologise to him. He deftly pushes the toy back into me and expands it until my back aches, from the fullness.

The minute he starts to hit me and I know I cant escape I start to panic. I start to snivel and cry as the beat comes down. Snot runs from my nose and sweat starts to drip from my paws and arms. The arch of my back is damp with scared and sick perspiration.

I am struggling and panicking. I beg for him to let me go. He leaves me hanging suffering, scared, as I hurt my wrists and shoulders trying to escape the restraints. He kindly unties my arms. I love him, at this point. I glug the drink he offers me. I place his palm on my heart which is running mad in hundreds. Hurtling from beat to beat. Im drooling and snotting. I bend back over the sofa dutifully.

He continues to hurt me in various fashions. Hit, smack, weighty thuds of implements. The tears start again. There's the anguish and the resentment wrapped in a cold arm of understanding. He puts his hand between my legs. There's liquid arousal oozing from my slit. Its making my thighs itch as I try to clamp them together to stop him.

I beg "Please don't touch me. Please don't touch me".

Im crying "Please stop. I don't want you to touch me. Please"

I can feel his satisfied smile scorching a line in the back of my head and I hate him, but there's no one else.

He run's his fingers over the welts he's made on my bottom and the bruises are beginning to form already. He taps me gently with a whip and makes me take a few more hard beats before it's over for me. He unties my ankles and puts down a cushion for me on the floor next to his feet. I feel safe down in the dust on the floor.

We talk shop and my bottom aches. When we go up to bed later our sex is deep and satisfying. The climax I give him is wet and prolonged, I cry in fitting sobs as he stretches my puckered skin and makes me suck my own filth from him. My brain feels clean, washed by his hands. Satisfied in my achievement I get to sleep hard and sound, for the first time in a while. No stress. No music. Just me, Trying to be what he wants.