The dom was very happy to see me. It had been weeks since our last meeting, and that gets him antsy. He has needs. I meet them. That’s what he tells me… that I can ‘take it’ in ways that others can’t. So, if I make him wait too long, I pay for it. He had sent a list of instructions to me in advance. I did my best to follow them…. I think. His theory is that I try to make him annoyed with me in order to make him more likely to punish me harshly.

Nevertheless, I did complete some of the items on the list. I was to arrive at the hotel as early as possible, check in, text him the room number, then begin to set things up — remove the bed coverings (he finds standard issue hotel blankets and covers to be disgusting, in theory if not in practice), start my iTunes for mood music, chill the water, etc. — and he commanded me to run a bath and make myself fresh, clean and ready for him to use and abuse, then get onto the bed and wait for him to arrive. I was running, late, though (I always am), so I left the door slightly ajar as I ran the bath, just in case he arrived before I was in the required position and location.

That’s what happened. He walked in while I was still flustered and partially dressed. He grimaced, but allowed me to welcome him with kisses; I pressed my body against him, hoping to distract him from any thoughts of immediate punishment. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. It never does, not completely. He accepted the attentions for a minute or two, then grasped my shoulders and tossed me on my back on the bed.

Our usual routine is for him to drop his trousers and pull my mouth onto his cock within minutes of entering the room, then, because he knows how I like it, he fucks me… hard, fast, and with impressive endurance. The first part of the routine was carried out, but this time, after verbally approving my cocksucking skills, when he pulled me off, it was to open my computer, upload some porn he’d brought me, turn it on, and then push my mouth right back onto his cock. There was no way I was getting fucked until I understood clearly that he had full control of the situation. So I sucked, and licked, and sucked some more, while he watched the video, and moved my head with his fist in my hair.

When he’d held off as long as he could, instead of filling my mouth and allowing me to swallow, as I generally do, he pulled out and covered my face… down my chin, into my nostrils, splashing my eyes… such a mess. Only then was I allowed to bring out my lovely toy Lily and bring myself to climax under his careful scrutiny, and with the help of his fingers pushing deep within my cunt and my ass.

Still… still… no fucking. Now, he collared me. The wide leather collar fits me snugly. He likes being able to hook his finger under its edge and pull… it makes me move into whatever position he requires much more promptly. Next he brought out several lengths of rope, and his little book of instructions. I teased him gently about his need to consult those illustrations always. What makes me think that teasing him is wise? I have no idea. It never ends well for me. This time I tried to avoid problems with an immediate “sorry, Sir”. He ignored me and pulled tight the rope already being wound around my ankles. The wrists came next. Around and around the rope went, with my arms held high over my head. And as the rope was manipulated and tied intricately, I became calm. My anxiety left me. I no longer wondered what would happen next. I knew. This was it… this wonderful feeling of security and resolution. I had my answer. And when he pulled out his new flogger, tossed me onto my stomach, and started whipping me, I was ready, relaxed and happy. When he spanked me instead, I noticed the difference, and at some level, admired his technique… but I still felt able to deal with more, more, more. Over the next hour, I was moved to many positions, and the flogger and his slapping hand were used all over me… on my breasts, my pussy, even the bottoms of my feet… and all of it felt just right. I was in a good, a very good place. When he wrenched my knees apart, with my ankles still bound, and moved my legs up over my head near my arms, so that he could finally fuck me, I yelled in pleasure. When he shoved a balled up wash cloth in my mouth to muffle the noises I was making, I still continued in my dreamlike state. Even the ass fucking that occurred without the usual external lubrication added, couldn’t bring me down. And when he unbound me later, and criticized the mess my squirting had made of the bedsheets, I took it in stride. Even when I noticed the rope marks I would be taking home with me, and considered dispassionately how much of a problem that might be… I smiled. His knots had somehow released the knots that had been building within me. It was just what I needed.