“So, you think you know me?” I teased him. Though I wasn’t teasing. He doesn’t know me. Not really. Who really knows anyone?
“Yes! Don’t you think I do? It’s been a year.”
“You don’t.” And it might have been a year but most of that year he’s spent with his wife and their brats, not with me, saying he wants to be with me but not always actually being there.
“Surprise me.”
Why should I surprise him though? He’s the one who promised surprise. Though, to be fair, he hasn’t been too bad in delivering. That high end bdsm stuff he got me for Valentine’s Day (even though I don’t even do Valentine’s Day) was perfect. The colour, the feel, the quality. He wants me to take it to his flat but I’m keeping it at my place for now. He bought it for me and I can have fun without him.
We’re at his flat again today. I’m not sleeping here so much. I was staying here for a while on my own, drinking his champagne, working on my laptop in his massive bed. But I realised I do love my own flat, my own space and I love that he can’t just get in.
We met here today. There were no surprises. Maybe I’m getting bored. Maybe he can just stick with his Stepford wife and kids and she can bake him cookies and iron his shirts and they can live happily ever after.
But no, sod that, why should they? I want him. He charges me up like I’ve been on coke. I don’t even take the stuff anymore. It’s him I’m addicted to. And, if you can keep a secret, I’m a bit addicted to my collection of unique toys from Shiri Zinn too: They’re fantastic. I don’t mind sharing the fun with him, and not because he’s given me half of them but because I love his face when I’ve got him tied up and he’s watching me and I’m getting off and he can’t touch me and I know he wants to…
I line them up, using each one in turn watching him move, watching him try to escape but he can’t because I’m bloody good at tying knots. Sometimes I use cuffs but mostly I use silk scarves, my pretty ones, and ones I buy when I’m away on business, smiling as I feel the fabric slow through my fingers.
And when I can see he can’t take it anymore, I put an blindfold on him and walk away. He can wait.
I turn the heating off so there’s a chill in the air and by the time I get back he’s totally pissed off.
I rip the gag from his mouth and he gasps “you effing cow”. I shove it back in and walk away again, opening the window.
Next, I untie him from the bed frame, tying his wrists together in case he tries anything silly, anything we’ve not agreed. He can’t do that. It’d be game over.
I take the blindfold off him. He sees I’m wearing a realistic strapon – he knows what’s coming and the smile is back in his eyes. I untie his ankles and tell him to turn over. He does what he’s told like a good boy.
He’s butt naked except for my blue bdsm collar accessory. I clip on a lead, pull his legs apart and tie his ankles up again. He pretends to try and escape but I know he doesn’t want to.
I take the gag off him before I tie his arms to the top of the bed…
To be continued
by Mishca C
