Welcome Home

It was 3 am and I was coming up the walk on my way home from a night out with my girlfriends when I noticed someone sitting on my stoop. It was him. He’d been traveling so much for work lately, that we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

"I had a dream about you," he said, standing, "and I wanted to make it come true."

Smiling, I unlocked the door and he followed me inside.

As soon as I heard the latch click, I removed my dress and, naked, dropped to my knees with my arms clasped behind my back and awaited instructions, as had become our custom.  He stroked my cheek as he walked past and motioned me to the center of the room. He stripped to the waist while I knelt, watching, feeling the fire of my desire began to burn.

I'd never get tired of looking at him. His face, with it's pitch dark eyes, Roman nose, and severe mouth was handsomely commanding. When he looked at me, I mean really looked at me, I felt like he was staring directly into the deepest recesses of my mind, riffling through all of my darkest secrets. As if this wasn't enough to slay me on its own, his body was finely muscled and beautifully compact. Coarse black hairs spread across his chest, trailing down into the waistband of his dark pants.  He was lithe and he prowled around the room with an animalistic grace. Power emanated from him. I felt my nipples harden under his gaze.

“Wine,” he commanded.

On my knees I scurried to obey, bringing him a freshly opened bottle and a single glass. It was his favorite. I always kept some in the house. I wanted to please him in all things.

He sat down in my leather chair, poured a glass and took a sip. At the gesture of his hand, I knelt between his knees. He leaned forward, clasping the back of my neck, and ran his thumb across my bottom lip. My eyelids fluttered and my face flushed. How was it that such a small touch could affect me so deeply? He lifted my breasts with his hands, weighing them, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs, and finally slapping them lightly in turn, first left, then right.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, trailing his hand down my body, cupping me, feeling the heat gathering between my legs.  He slipped a finger every so gently inside me, finding me wet and ready for him.

“You’ve missed me too, I see.”

Another finger joined the first and he stroked me, lightly, for a moment, drinking me in. When he withdrew his now glistening fingers, he rubbed them across my one of my nipples, depositing my juices there.

At his command I quickly straddled him and he began to lap at my nipple. His tongue darted against it, stabbing at its rock hard tip. Then he took my entire nipple in his mouth, sucking it, scraping it with his teeth. As he bit down, the pain shot straight through me, followed by a familiar surge of pleasure.  I needed that pain. Had needed it for weeks.

He pulled his face back from my breast and, seeing the need in my eyes he began slapping my breasts with his open palm, rhythmically. I grabbed the arms of the chair to brace myself and had to fight the urge to close my eyes. He liked it when I looked at him, when I watched him, looking away was unacceptable.  As the slaps grew harder and the stings turned to a delightfully harsher feeling, my head dropped back and my breath caught, and for one delicious moment, my eyes closed.

He stood abruptly, taking me with him. He carried me into the bedroom, flung me on the bed and stalked over to the cabinet on the wall. He came back with leather cuffs and with them, tethered my wrists above my head, securing them to the headboard. From his pocked he pulled a small, flexible leather paddle. Ordering me to look at him, he leaned closer and began spanking my nipples in earnest. The pain from the first blows so sharp that I cried out.

“Hush,” he said, “We both know you need this.”

He continued spanking not only my nipples, but also my entire breasts, sweeping the paddle under them, catching them from both sides. By the time he was finished they were red and hot and felt swollen on my chest. He stroked my right breast lightly, smiling when the softest touch drew a gasp. The ache in my breasts was no match for the ache of desire that was building inside of me.

He went back over to the cabinet and withdrew a second and third pair of cuffs. With these he secured my ankles to the bedposts. Once done, he lifted a riding crop from the table beside the bed.  He placed the tip of the crop against my lips and I kissed it. He trailed it down my body, circling my navel, and stopped with it pressed up against my clit. Chills erupted across my flesh, and my hips strained up towards him in anticipation.

He began whipping the insides of my thighs. I could hear the crop whistling through the air before I would feel the sharp sting. It was glorious. I struggled against my bonds, both wanting to feel the lash and wanting to escape it. My thighs were striped red and white.  A sheen of sweat shone on his chest.  The look in his eyes was fervent.

He slid this tip of the crop into me and I writhed against it.  He pulled it out and with one, swift stroke, spanked my lips. I thought I would explode. I wanted him so badly I didn’t know how much more I could take. I wasn’t alone.

He quickly stripped off his pants and unfettered my ankles. Leaving my wrists bound to the headboard, he knelt between my legs.

“My brave, beautiful girl,” he whispered as he entered me.

He hooked his arms under my knees and began pounding into me. His cock so thick and hard, that I was at once filled and enflamed. With each thrust he ground his body against my clit. My aching breasts bounced with the motion, his fingers gripping my sore thighs. There were so many sensations it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. The pain and pleasure blended into one overwhelming feeling that erupted out of me in a swift and brutal orgasm. All the while his eyes bored into me, reading each ripple of emotion as it crossed my face.  My entire body strained against him, drawing him deeper, clenching him inside of me, and he came with a roar. 

He collapsed on top of me, exhausted, and reached up to free my wrists. I cradled his head against my breasts, our legs intertwined.

“Welcome home,” I breathed as we drifted off to sleep.

Hear the audio at:  http://evaamoretales.tumblr.com/post/52985665310/welcome-home-by-eva-amore-find-the-written-work