Cracked

I could not get her out of my head. That was just a glance, I was telling myself over and over, it meant nothing to her, or maybe she was playing with me, or maybe she was looking at someone else, or… But all that was to no avail. I would find myself with fingers hovering over the home row of my keyboard, multiple displays filled with unfinished documents and code snippets that I had no recollection of writing or editing, only interrupted from my revere by a coworker, or worse, the boss, asking a question.

“Huh?” I was trying to puzzle out what I was asked. Something about the layout of the latest app. I got up and walked up to his desk, my sluggish thoughts focuses elsewhere trying to catch up to what was going on in the office. His monitors were also full of meaningless squiggles, something that used to make intuitive sense to me just the other day. “I have no idea…” I mumbled. “Maybe check on stackoverflow?” That was a cop out, of course he would have googled the question before asking me. Also, the issue was in my code, for God’s sake. At any other time I would have just explained the design logic. But not this afternoon. The code fragments on his screen looked like an ASCII art of her smile. Something was terribly wrong. Or terribly right, judging by the mix of longing and giddiness rising in my chest.

“I am not feeling well, will take the rest of the afternoon off, sorry.” My boss looked up from his screen: “No problem, get better!” I smiled weakly, thanked him and stepped out the door, waving to the receptionist on the way out. Then did a double take. Something in her face reminded me of that girl. As I was driving home lost in thought and basically on autopilot, taking way too long to get home, a realization came to me. This was not natural, and completely out of character for me. I do not fall for pretty faces. Or attractive curves. Or dresses. I can appreciate the appearance, no question about it, but the real interest and excitement comes from feeling a certain type of connection that comes only after a few meetings, though one could hardly call them dates. And yet. This time was completely different. There was barely a sentence uttered by either of us at that boring office party last night, as she came in just as I was leaving, a visitor from a different branch, apparently dragged in by a coworker. Did our eyes really lock, or was I imagining it? I remember looking back as I was stepping out the door and noticing that she was looking back at me. Or maybe at someone else entering or leaving at the same time. Or reacting to the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. Who knows. In any case, I didn’t even have her phone number, just her first name. I could look it up, of course. The company directory had only so many Nadia’s. But that felt stalky-ish somehow. I should really let this go, I decided, pulling into the driveway. Just as I noticed her standing by the door of my modest townhouse.

I turned off the engine, stepped out of the car, still on autopilot, and opened my mouth to say… something. Only nothing came out. My lips stayed parted as I simply stared. She clearly noticed my state, because her uncertain expression slowly turned into a smile and she chuckled. “And here I am, feeling stupid trying to catch you before my red-eye tonight, being told that you had just left the office, asking for your address from an amused receptionist, then rushing here, and it looks like we are both equally smitten, aren’t we?” I swallowed, closed my mouth with some effort, and nodded. Strange, so strange. Why would she be interested in me after seeing me only once, briefly? Why would she conclude that I was into her, and not just surprised by seeing her here? Why would she be so sure and so forward about her own emotions? None of it made sense. I took a deep breath and finally gained control of my motor functions. “Hi, Nadia. It’s a bit of a surprise to see you here.” Another deep breath. “Would you like to come in?” “Yes, of course I would like to come in! I only have a couple of hours. I hope you live alone!” Oh wow, that was a bit bold, but my feet had already carried me to the door, opening it and letting her in. An abode of a single empty nester was probably not impressive. Admittedly clean if modest, at least it was not something I was ashamed of to show, even though the visit was rather unexpected. Fortunately, the basement door was locked, it would not do for a vanilla girl to see what I had there.

But this was clearly a day for surprises, as she looked at me, then looked at the basement door, then smiled again, looking me over. “Would you like to show me what you have down there?” The double entendre was surely intended. “Are you sure you want to see?” I had to make sure, though my heart skipped a bit, probably redirecting some of blood to the areas that had not seen much action in some time. But how did she know? She answered my unspoken question with “I stalked your Fetlife profile, MrWhipYouRaw. And no, I am not giving you mine, at least not yet. Let’s see how tonight goes.” Ah! Now the puzzle pieces started to come together. I was in my element. The remaining uncertainty drained out of my mind. “Well, Nadia, or whoever you are online, do you know what you are in for?” “Yes” Suddenly her demeanor changed completely. The self-assured and confident woman that was before me just a moment ago has disappeared, and the girl I was looking at looked both eager and hesitant. “That is ‘Yes, Sir’ to you, up until you step out of my house, is that clear?” “Yes, Sir!” “Good, now take everything off, except your underwear, and follow me.”

I turned away from her, not checking whether she followed my instructions, unlocked the basement door, and went down the stairs. Fortunately, I keep that part of my house just as neat as the rest of it, even if I do not get a lot of visitors… of that kind… in this town. My mind was racing now. She has a flight tonight, so that limits both the options and probably the intensity. How much aftercare would she need? I have to figure this out first. I heard her cautious steps down the stairs. I turned around. A black lacy bra, black fishnet stockings and… no underwear. Perfect.

“Before we start, girl, I need to know how much you can take, and how much time you need to recover, given your schedule. A quick summary, please.” She suddenly was the confident woman from before, all businesslike. “I am fairly sure I can take everything you can dish out, I have a change of clothes in my bag, and I am not much into aftercare… Sir!”. With that last syllable she instantly turned into a submissive waiting for instructions. That was something to watch. No wonder I was so taken with her from the moment I saw her.

“Your bra, off, now.” She complied instantly, taking it off and dropping it on the floor in one motion, her ample breasts flowing free.

“Step here!” I pointed to the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. She did without an moment of hesitation.

“Face the cross.” “Yes, Sir!” I took a moment to admire her body. A perfect butt, shapely legs, her back well toned, with a hint of… what was it… Ah! It has not been all that long since she had fun of this kind last, judging by the faint vertical red lines along her back. As a top I was taking a risk here, in case she would decide to report me, but that was highly unlikely to begin with, and older bruises would help my case if she ever tried. I got a chill down my spine imagining what might happen. Then pushed the doubt away, this is nothing like that time… I’ve learned my lesson.

I reached up, took her wrist and locked the velcro of the cuffs attached to the cross around it. “While I do not expect we would need it, what do you want to be your safeword, girl?” “Python,” I heard a chuckle in her voice. An inside joke of a fellow programmer, looks like. I cuffed her other wrist to the cross, enjoying the smoothness of her skin under my fingers. “You doing okay?” “Yes, Sir!” I stroked her back, slowly, from the shoulder blades down to her butt, and then again on the other side. She shivered and wiggled her butt, clearly enjoying the sensation. “Good girl!” I did it again, this time dragging my nails along her back, leaving faint white traces, turning pink and then fading away. She purred like a happy kitten. “Thank you, Sir!”

I circled her butt with the palm of my hand, feeling the smooth skin. She stilled under my hand. I slid my left hand between the roughness of the wood and the smoothness of her stomach and raised my right hand, looking at her. She furtively glanced at me before looking away, and I recognized that glance. The one that left me day-dreaming earlier at the office, my productivity shot to hell and me looking embarrassed in front of my coworkers. Anger welled up inside me and I smacked her butt, a bit harder than I was intending to, at least to start with. She yelped, then purred again, “Thank you, Sir!” I smacked her butt a few more times in quick succession, watching a new hand print forming after each blow. Her moans confirmed that she was enjoying this as much as I did. I slapped her ass harder, again and again, still holding her stomach with my other hand, feeling the blows go all the way through her body. One of my favorite sensations. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, she was clearly slipping into subspace. I took my hand away from her stomach, and said “This might hurt a bit”. She only grunted in return. “What was that, girl?” “Yes, please, Sir, more pain, Sir, sorry, Sir!”

I pushed her body tight against the cross, then punched her butt hard with my fist. Her back arched. “Mmm…” she was into this, too. Another couple of hard punches, one with each fist. She whimpered. Another punch. And another. Her butt cheeks got full red now. I wondered how her pelvis was handling the impact. A few more punches, and I stopped. “How are you doing, girl?” “I’m fine, Sir! Thank you for checking. Thank you for playing with me, Sir!” She was indeed a pleasure to play with. Maybe I should thank her. Submissive, responsive and grateful, and most importantly, an excellent communicator, and so a safe bottom even in a rough scene. Relaxed, I let go, relying on her to tell me if something is wrong, and to use the safeword if necessary. I punched her ass hard a few more times, then kicked it with my boots for a good measure, to a yelp following by a grunt of satisfaction from her after each one.

Once her ass got properly red, I untied her. “Turn around,” I ordered. She complied instantly, swaying a bit, eyes half closed. I cuffed her again, this time both her hands and her feet, admiring the way she looked, nothing but fishnet stockings, completely relaxed and ready for more. I slapped her tits from side to side, watching them bounce. “Ahh…” she was clearly enjoying this part, too. It was time to ramp it up a bit. I grabbed a flogger hanging on the wall. A heavy one, that lands with a thud and with the tails that leave a painful sting. “This might hurt a bit,” I said. She smiled weakly, eyes closed, and wiggled her chest in anticipation. I raised the flogger and hit her tits, experimentally. “Owww!” then another “Ahhh…” For a moment, I admired the red lines forming on her chest and belly, then struck again, this time harder. “Owww! Ahh…” Her chest was heaving now, she was caught in pain and pleasure at once. Another blow, almost full force. And another. She was taking it well, swaying from side to side, her legs barely able to hold her, mostly hanging by her wrists. A few more times! I could see the bruises starting to form.

“Let’s see if you can handle it lower,” I warned her. She only wiggled her pelvis in response, that cheeky vixen. I landed a hard blow on her wiggly parts, then another. And another. A few more. She was completely out of it now, body and head hanging down, unintelligible sounds and a bit of drool coming out through her parted lips. Her skin was covered in red lines, all the way from her chest down to her thighs. I admired my handiwork. So much more fun we could have tonight. Sadly, her flight was leaving in only a few short hours. “We have to wrap it up for today,” I said. She half-opened her eyes. “Please, Sir, can I ask you for a favor, Sir?” Her eyes wandered toward a wand on the table. “Yes, girl.” “Please, can you make me come, just once?” I didn’t mind that part one bit. “Spread your legs wider then!” She did. I pushed the wand into her clit, and turned it on, highest setting right away. “Hold it with your legs! Don’t let it fall!” I commanded. Somehow, she did, shaking from the vibrations, but holding onto it. Impressive. However, satisfying her unsolicited request for pleasure, while nice, should not be without consequences, should it?

“Listen, girl! You are allowed to come on the fifth blow only. Not before, not after. Is that clear?” “Yes, Sir!” she was alert now, looking at me, the wand bringing her out of subspace. “Look at me as I hit, and count!” “Yes, Sir!” I think I saw a sparkle in her eyes as she watched me raise the flogger. I hit her chest, hard. Her breath caught for a moment. “One!” she counted after a short delay. Another hit, this time her stomach. With the muscles she has there, I was not worried about causing any damage, even with a heavy flogger. I saw the tears well up in her eyes as she screamed “Two!” Now the real test. I looked down at her groin where she was desperately squeezing the wand, raised the flogger and, looking right into her eyes, hit, as hard as I could, fully expecting her to drop the wand. She did not, even as tears ran down her cheeks and down to her chest. “Three!” she panted. Huh. “Exceeding expectations, aren’t we?” I wonder if that is what her performance review said, as well. She smiled through her tears at that, her smile both sly and proud. What a creature. There is no point holding back now. The flogger landed on her pelvis with all the force I could muster. She still kept her legs squeezed enough to keep the wand in place, if barely. Clearly she wanted that orgasm a lot. Fine then!

I reached for a whip, watching her watching me, finally seeing some fear in her eyes. I paused for a moment, in case she wanted to use the safeword, then snapped it with a loud crack. The wand tumbled on the floor as she was writhing and twitching, her orgasm overtaking her, her squirt gushing everywhere and forming a puddle under her feet and even hitting mine. I laughed. I got her in the end, since the whip tail stopped just short of touching her skin. There was no fifth blow.

It took her a minute to compose herself. I removed the restraints as soon as she could stand on her own. She stepped away from the cross and looked into a full-length mirror on the wall, studying the patterns on her skin. “Pretty!” she said. “Wish we had more time.” I nodded, mesmerized by the transformation again. She wiped herself with a wet towel, pulled out a change of clothes, and got dressed, occasionally wincing as the fabric touched raw flesh.

“Well, that has been a delight. Well done! Excellent timing, too, my flight is in three hours.” She hugged me briefly, picked up her bag and marched out of my house, waving back once, with a spring in her step, betraying none of the pain or ecstasy she had endured mere minutes before. I was just standing there, dumbfounded. Did she simply use me? Who was really in charge? Will we meet again? My heart filled with longing and hope as I watched her car disappear around the bend. I stepped back in, and noticed a piece of paper on the floor that hadn’t been there before. As I leaned down to pick it up, I fervently hoped that was her Fetlife profile name.

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