The Music Room The sequel Ch1

It’s nice of Lola to forget my birthday! I mean, the girl is gorgeous. She is smart, hot, only has this big hang up about anal sex. Touch her back there and she turns into a block of ice, a tight block of ice. It must have been all those years at a nun school. They have messed up her head.

I love this girl, don’t get me wrong, but I am not going to go through that again. If she doesn’t get over this hang up, I cannot stay with her. I already had enough of hang ups with my ex; I am not going there again.

I let myself into the penthouse. I half expect a surprise party, but nothing. In silence I walk to the bedroom. Taped to the door there is a letter. “She could have chosen a better day to leave me” I think.

I pick up the letter written in  purple ink, on crimson paper.

Dear George:

I very much want to be the woman you want me to be, in all respects. I am sorry that I cannot, willingly, give you what you want. I guess the nuns messed me up more than I thought.

I do however want you to have whatever you want from me so:

You are just going to have to take it yourself.

Your present is in the music room.

Don’t say anything.

Happy Birthday my love.

I rush to the music room, with bated breath, I open the door.

In the dim light, by the corner window, Lola, brightly lit by the quartz track lights, nude, hangs from her wrists from the overhead beams. A black blindfold covers her eyes and forehead; her back is towards me, she faces the window.

I approach her, silent, amazed. Despite the cool temperature, a thin sheen of sweat covers her body. Around her neck, a black ribbon, and a note:

“No safe words

No limits

No mercy

Happy Birthday”

I remove the ribbon from around her neck and touch her, a tremor. I nuzzle the nape of her neck, taking in her smell. I inhale her body’s fragrance, sweet, musky, but today, it is different. There is a subtle, acrid, touch of fear to the musk. I feel her groin, her pussy lips, wet, she trembles. I bring my exploring finger to my nose; musk, arousal, and throughout it all, fear.

She says nothing, but I can hear her breath, fast, almost gasping, aroused.

I take a step back. The credenza is dimly lit by a single lamp. A box and something else, I cannot see clearly in the dim light. I come closer. I am astonished by the sight of the cruel looking bullwhip, the crop and the cane. I cannot believe this! There is a box, on the box a note and a ball gag.

“Darling:

I am giving you everything. Tonight and always. But I may not be able to control myself. That’s what the gag is for. Tonight only moans and screams should come out of my mouth, and only … you, should be coming in. Use the gag if I say anything or object, or simply if you feel like it.

Remove it if you want to hear me scream or moan.

Have fun with me.

Lola”

I look into the box. KY jelly, Dildos, one of them is really gigantic, and butt plugs, one of them really huge. I am elated. I feel desire building in my gut, bursting into my chest.

No wonder the smell of fear in her sweat.

The sight of her, her shoulder length, curly red hair, her blue eyes, that I cannot see, and her tiny nose, peeking out under the blindfold, over her slightly open, pink lips is breathtaking. I see the tips of her white teeth. Her head is thrust back, trying to listen, that being the only one of her senses that connects her with the room. 

Her breasts, very white, with pink areolas and small darker nipples (Has she rouged them for me today?) are flattened by the suspension, but still prominent to see on her chest. Firm, soft, irresistible.

Her flat tummy, with her wide navel, flatter today, as she hangs there ends in a freshly shaven pussy. The day may come when I shall miss the fiery red, neatly trimmed, bush that used to grow there, but it is not this day.

Her thighs, firm from dance class and biking, alabaster, are long and tapered to her calves where, the cream of her skin is slightly marred by a few scattered freckles.

Her feet, small and pedicured, hang, a mere two inches from the hardwood floor; a tribute to the care she took in setting this up.

Women should be seen naked, and from the rear. There are too many distractions when seen from the front: eyes, lips, nose, breasts, bush and so on. From the rear, the hair, points the way down to the vulnerable dorsum, which tapers, like a cello, to then widen at the hips, where symmetrical diamond dimples adorn the twin globes of a firm, pert ass. The thighs,  seen from behind, without the interruption of the knees, flow seamlessly into the calves, which in turn, if the feet are properly extended, as in this case, represent the upright of an exclamation mark. Between the thighs, just a soupcon of her nether lips can be glimpsed, if the angle is quite right.

I shed my clothes, down to my boxer shorts and grab the whip.

The music room, The sequel Ch 2

I reached for the whip.

Blindfolded, Lola cannot know what I am doing, what I am planning. I have not spoken a word since I entered the music room. I am almost reluctant to pick up the whip and to disturb the symmetry of the three instruments of torture. I consider the ball gag, pick it up, but replace it on top of the box.

I have the distinct impression that it will only be required when I use the implements inside, on her rear entryway. I will soon find out.

I approach Lola with the whip, folded in my hand. I caress her back with it, her back that will soon be covered with red stripes from its use. She does not respond. I move to her front and bring it down her neck, down to her chest, across her erect nipples. A whimper.

I bring it down to her belly, her navel, and then to her naked mons. She holds her breath. I touch her, there. She jerks, pants and finally moans. I see her moisture on her inner lips, and on the curve of the whip. I bring it to her mouth and touch her lips. She can smell herself, mixed with the leather. Unbidden, she kisses the whip, but no words escape her mouth. I embrace her and kiss her neck. I cannot fail to notice her tension, not from the suspension, but from the expectation. I kiss her on the lips, on her mouth, violently; the kiss of a master, not a lover. I feel, from her tremors that she notices this too. I sense her fear. Like a young fawn, trapped, when she sees the mountain lion approaching. She trembles, scared, but says nothing. Good.

I step to her left, and straighten out the whip on the floor; measuring out the distance. She cannot see it, but she can sense it.

I whisper in her ear “Get ready” A shiver is my only response.

The whip snaps as it cuts through the air. Crack! The first cut is on her back, high across her shoulder blades. She screams, loudly. I give her some few seconds to savor the pain, and then whip her again, an inch below the first. She gasps, but manages not to scream. Good, very good. A third, just at the tip of the shoulder blades and another gasp. She takes pain well. Slowly, methodically, I work my way down her back. I leave about two inches between cuts of the whip. I’ve got three instruments to work with, and I will use them all tonight.

I reach her glorious ass. I am tempted to criss cross it with stripes from the whip, but I restrain myself. Time enough for that later, with the crop, or perhaps the cane. I move to the back of her thighs. That surprises her. She lets out a scream that she cannot suppress. She was expecting it on her butt. I only flog her thighs five times, then I rest.

She shines sweat now. Breathing fast and shallow. Her red hair has turned dark brown, wet, with the sweat from her head. Still not a word.

God she is good!

I approach her again. As I whipped her, her body, swung freely from her wrists. This is not acceptable. I had noticed the lengths of leather thong in the box. Lola does not know this, but she is not the first girl to swing from that beam. She is the prettiest and, I suspect, the most submissive. Embedded in the floor boards I find two rings, about 5 feet apart.

I speak in her ear:

“I am going to whip your front now” I pause for a response, and get none. Good.

“I do not want you swinging from your wrists, so I will tie your ankles to the floor” Again, no response.

“I am going to tie your legs wide open” Again no response.

“After I have cropped your breasts…” She shivers a little at this.

“…I will want to whip your pussy” She sobs now. “I will do that with the cane. It will be the most extreme pain you have suffered up to now. But I will only do it with your consent. If you agree to it, you may nod your head, once, now”

I do not need to wait, her head nods, once. I am impressed with her.

“I will ask you again, after I have done your breasts”

I tie her ankles to the rings on the floor. She is painfully spread eagled now. I take the crop and caress her breasts with it. She shivers and whimpers. I bring it to her face; stroke her face gently with it. I bring it to her lips, and she kisses it, slowly.

Does she not know what she is doing? My cock is rock hard, tenting my shorts; I feel my desire, a fire in my loins, erupting. Does she not know the effect she has on me? Her little tongue darting out of her perfect pink lips, licking the leather of the crop.

It would be better for her if I wanted to punish her. I know I will not be able to hold back. I don’t think she wants me to, but I’m sure she does not know what she’s in for.

I jerk my arm back, and swing hard at the top of her tits. The crop sinks into her flesh with a loud crack. Lola screams. I do it again. She screams, not as loudly this time, and the third crack elicits just a whimper. I am at her nipples. Crack! Her scream is glorious, even musical. I hit them again, and again. She screams, and screams.

I love this woman, hanging from her wrists for my pleasure. Yet, I want to hurt her, hurt her more. I hit her breasts again, below the nipples this time, and she continues her screams. Her head swings up and down as she screams in agony.

By the time I am done, her breasts are covered by an angry red lattice work of stripes. I stop. Her head comes down falling on her chest.

I caress her wet hair, and her face, wet with tears. I kiss her face and her lips.

“Good, you are doing good” I say. She smiles, faintly.

I need some water. I leave her hanging, while I get a jug of water from the fridge. I drink deeply.

Lola has recovered her composure by the time I am back. Her pink striped back greets me when I return. Her wide open legs make her look like an inverted Y.

I pick up the cane and approach her. “I am going to thrash your pussy with the bamboo cane” She shudders, and says nothing. “I love you, deeply, but the more I love you, the more I want, I need to hurt you” Her only response is a little smile.

I stand back. “If you want me to cane your pussy, nod your head once”

Trembling, she does. I was hoping she wouldn’t.

I stand to her left and take the first swing. It falls exactly where I aimed it. Her right labium. Her shriek is deafening. I target her left labium and I am rewarding with an equally satisfying shriek. I alternate from right to left until each had received ten vicious cuts, and both are swollen to twice their usual size. Her screams are not as loud now, her throat is hoarse, and probably parched too. I am so aroused pre-cum is oozing out of my dick and staining my shorts. I need to fuck her soon. Very soon.

She again recovers and hangs, her head on her chest.

“Five more now, on your clit”

Unbidden  she nods, once.

And I strike her clit even harder. And then, it is over.

I approach her, kiss her mouth deeply. She drinks me in. My saliva, the only moisture she’s had since she’s been hanging there. I will give her some more now. I untie her feet and free her wrists. She falls to the floor, in front of me. A puddle of pink and red striped pain. I can only imagine the pain her numb hands are experiencing as sensation returns.

She does not try to stand, nor does she try to remove her blindfold. Painfully she rises to her knees. I approach her and touch her lips with the tip of my cock. She sucks me into her. Her hands, free for the first time in what seems like hours, wrap themselves around me. Her head bobs up and down. It only takes me a minute to drop a gallon of come in her mouth.

To my surprise, she does not waste a drop. She swallows everything. Then she leans back, expectantly. I lift her up and take her to the leather easy chair. I bend her over the back, her face on the seat. I retie her ankles to the legs of the chair, and her wrists to the front legs. She knows what is coming now for, before I get up from tying her hands she whispers the only word she said in the whole evening:

“Gag”

And I gag her.

Thrown over the chair back, I have access to her rear. The twin globes of her ass shine invitingly. I wish to mark them with the cane, but I cannot hold back. Even though I just came, I am rock hard again. The sight of her tiny puckered hole, finally available is carrying me away.

“I will fuck your ass now” I say “After I’m done, I will plug you, so my come stays in you. Then I will remove your gag, and cane your ass, until it bleeds” I do not expect her consent now, that is why she wanted the gag; so she cannot refuse.

I spread some KY on her ass. I hear her whimpers against the gag. I smear some more lubricant on my shaft. Then I place the head right on the entrance, she whimpers more loudly, and I push. Her ass dimples under the pressure, but does not yield. I push harder, and I dimple it further, but again, it does not yield, and my cock slips up into the cleft of her ass. She is crying into her gag now. I replace it in position and, holding the shaft, right behind the bulbous glans, I shove once, twice, and I feel her sphincter begin to give. I hear her high pitched squeal, barely contained by the gag. One more hard shove and I’m inside. I see her head tossing up and down and sideways. “I’m in” I inform her.

I push further, until I feel her bowels on my glans. Her squealing doesn’t stop. I pull out, all the way, and then, before her ass can close up, ram myself into her again. The squealing continues as I rape her unwilling ass. Too soon, I spurt again. Exhausted, I pull out. Only a drop of come spills from her ass. I notice that my cock is clean. She has prepared herself well. She has stopped squealing, although I see her sobs as she cries silently. I take the three butt plugs and insert the smallest one. There is little resistance. I take it out and push the next one in. This one is only slightly wider than my cock at its widest point, She squeals again as it goes in, and even more loudly when it comes out.

Now for the “Piece de resistance” I pick up the biggest plug, coat it liberally with jelly and push it into her ass. Despite her squealing, it only goes in about a third of the way. I push harder and harder, and can get it half the way in. Never mind what I do, I cannot get it in any further. I am about to give up when, to my surprise, I notice her pushing back at me, weakly. She still squeals from the pain of her stretched ass hole, but her squeals are now accompanied by grunts of effort as she tries to push out and relax her sphincter, just a little more. From opponent Lola has become an ally. I realize that she just wants it over with, and first, she gave up fighting it, and now she tries, with me, to overcome her ass.

A few mighty shoves, and a high pitched squeal, and the monster is in. Her ass hole closes after it, holding it in place. The narrow part must be about two inches in diameter, so her ass is still stretched. I wonder how we will get it out of there.

I give Lola a few minutes to calm down. After a while her squealing stops, to be replaced by a new round of sobbing, then that stops too. I remove her gag and caress her face. She kisses my hand. I stroke her hair. I wish I did not have to do this, but I see her gorgeous and as yet unmarked ass, and realize that I cannot stop myself. Only Lola can stop me, if she so decides. I am afraid she won’t.

I remove the blindfold. Lola’s light blue eyes, red from crying look up at me, with a sweetness that takes my breath away, and stirs my desire again. I pick up the cane, and approach Lola.

“Please, please Lola, stop me” I think, but remain silent.

She regards me, her face wet and streaked with tears. Her lips, slightly parted, her breath even, deep.

“I shall now beat your ass with the crop, until it bleeds” I say, showing her the cane. Her face keeps looking up at me, even sweeter. “If you consent, nod, once”

I do not need to look, I see her nod. She follows me with her eyes, until I am behind her and she cannot see me any more. Her head comes down and faces the floor.

I see the beautiful white mounds of flesh that I must now mark. Crack! Crack! Crack. She whimpers, over and over, but holds her screams. Her ass turns into a road map of red lines. And I continue, over and over. There is no longer any virgin flesh for the cane to strike. Still no blood. I see Lola’s fists, clenched. Her head thrashing, and I strike, harder and harder. She screams now, and finally, as the cane’s tip starts to shatter, blood, drops of blood splatter her, now red, globes.

It is over. I throw the cane away and kneel by her face. I untie her hands, kiss her passionately. She kisses me back. I pick her up in my arms and take her to the bathroom. I wash her tenderly. She still says nothing. I take her to the bedroom, lie her down in bed, and lying besides her I embrace her. We kiss, deeply. I whisper in her ear:

“The more I love you, the more I want to hurt you”

She answers “Why do you love me so little then?” And still with the plug in her ass, nuzzles against me and goes to sleep.