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Seeing you in the mix of fire- and moonlight was intoxicating. Your arms and legs shackled for me, the dust and dirt on your tight, freckled and reddened skin driving me wild.

“Are you ready to receive the rest of your punishment?”

“I… I am, sir.” That word, which at times had felt so forced and unnatural, felt as normal and mundane as the air around us now. I set about spraying you down with bug repellent. The sun had set fully, and if I wanted my slave to be good I knew I had to take good care of her in turn. This close to the woods there would be mosquitos, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let you wear clothes tonight, of all nights.

“You know you can still use your safeword right?”

“I know, but it feels really important that we do this. If we don’t, then it’s all just a fantasy. I was hesitant before, but after the first round, I think I really understand things I didn’t before.”

“I love you. I really appreciate your willingness to try all this out. And I’m grateful you enjoy it so much. Now stand up, and go back to the monkey bars.”

You shuffled back over, with your eyes downcast and remorse across your face. Having tied your wrists back to the bars, leaving you stretched and helpless in the backyard, the soft light on your breasts and hips got to me. I was more turned on by this than I had realized. The power you were willing to give me was just as intoxicating as your nude body.

I approached you from the front and kissed your lips, while my hand sneaked down below. You moaned at the feeling of my fingers on your sex. I was gentle with you, for the first time that evening. You began to melt at the feeling of sexual pleasure amid such a long ordeal. The punishment was half over, and if you had made it through the first time you were confident you could again without issue. That didn’t stop your nerves from wiggling throughout your body, however, and a little edging beforehand was something you needed far more than you realized.

It was a strange and new experience though, to be touched without even the option of coming. Sometimes in a sexual encounter an orgasm is not a given, but it’s always been on the table at least. Not that time. That night we both knew that you were going to bed frustrated. We didn’t speak it aloud but the knowledge created a very intense energy between us. It imposed itself on every touch and smell and kiss. I was building a tension in you that would not be resolved soon. It was a kind of ownership that was wholly different from any of the other depraved adventures we had had.

When I thought that you were too close to coming I took some steps back and admired you, dirty, beaten and nearly hanging by your arms from a playground fixture. And yet the look on your face was of pure sexual desire. Your lips were slightly apart and your eyes down to the floor. You wanted more, but you were tortured by the wanting. You shouldn’t want it. Normal people don’t want this, you thought to yourself. 

I returned to massage your clit slowly, feeling your body with my left hand. Tracing from your butt to lower back, and then reaching around to hold your left breast.

“How does that feel?”

“Mmmm good, sir.”

“Is it hard knowing you won’t be able to come until tomorrow?”

“It’s really hard, sir. But somehow, the knowledge that it’s what you feel is right makes it exciting at the same time. It’s like my body itself knows that it belongs to you.” I brought you right to the edge again before stopping abruptly. You let out an almost animal whimper, and you weren't even sure whether it was the loss of pleasure or the sudden realization of what was about to come that caused it. Maybe it was a mix. But the quality of the sound was unmistakable, it was the sound of complete resignation.

I began hitting you again with my trusty, thin, still-living branch. Over and over it landed on various parts of your already very sore body. You threw your head back and looked at the stars, tears falling into your ears now. They were the same stars they had been two days ago, the same stars that had always been there. For the rest of your life, though, you knew they would remind you of this moment.

Having just moments ago discovered my taste for edging and denying you, I stopped periodically to edge you again. It felt like jumping back and forth between a cold pool and a hot tub, each time you got used to one sensation the other would smack you in the face as though it were the first time.

I was too horny for my own good. It was time to edge you again, but the feeling of your wet pussy on my fingers wasn’t enough. I needed to feel the fruits of my labor more fully. You could hear my pants unzip. There was no way I could effectively fuck you in that position, but I did manage to get my cock most of the way inside you as I edged you. I made some desperate thrusts that amounted to nothing much.

When you were released I half-carried you back to the fire pit. The warmth felt good. I held you, and we sat there quietly, with you on the dirt floor at my feet. The fire crackled, and there were crickets.

“Can… can I shower, sir?” You asked humbly after some time, your spirit having returned. I could hear in your voice that any trace of your own will was absent. You were genuinely asking, not telling me what you wanted in the guise of a request. I was a little worried that maybe we had gone too far. How could everything go back to normal on Monday after this?

I thought about it for a while. It would be criminal to send you to bed tonight covered in dirt and tears and red welts. But also, I wasn’t sure that I was done enjoying the sight.

“Ok sure, but there’s one more thing I want from you. Can you guess what it is?”

“I think so, yeah.” You turned around to face me and got on your knees. I inched forward toward the end of my seat as you fumbled with my belt, and then my zipper, in your still shackled hands.

“Good girl.” You pulled my pants and underwear down and took my dick in your hands. It had been many, many years since you had offered a man an unrequited blowjob. But now you weren’t even thinking twice about it. Your arms were sore from being held above your head, your legs from balancing, your skin from being caned. Even your face muscles were sore from grimacing. With all those sensations, there was no space left in your head to worry about things like pride or shame.

For a moment, while the head of my dick first entered your lips, I thought about how lucky I am. Then I thought of the responsibility of the position I was in. I wondered whether I could really handle it all. Maybe after this weekend we should take a break and reassess how fast we want to go, or whether we want to continue at all. On the other hand, it was going well by all accounts. There I was relaxing by the fire getting head on demand from the sexiest woman I knew. Did I really want to give this up?

When I felt your warm mouth wrap around my balls I stopped thinking about anything else. You shifted on your knees, struggling to blow me effectively with your arms and legs shackled. But you made it work. Before long it was my turn to look up at the stars as I shot my come into your mouth. You drank it down greedily.

“Oh and one more thing. I want you to grab me a beer and my cigarettes before you shower.” I had really enjoyed watching you crawl earlier, it had been twice as sexy in reality as in my head. So, I toyed with the idea of making that a standing order while you were being “punished”. But then, I remembered what you had already been through, and that you were still shackled and relegated to sitting on the floor. Maybe it would be better to let you walk. But I was curious about one thing.

“If I told you you had to crawl instead of walk for the rest of the night, would you do it?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good to know, but that won’t be necessary.”

In the bathroom you inspected yourself in the mirror. You could barely recognize the ‘you’ that you knew with smudges of dirt all over your body, barely concealing red welts. Your hair was an absolute mess, and there were dried tears down your cheeks. You couldn’t deny that you were very, very horny. The strangest part was seeing the shackles. You hadn’t wanted to ask whether they could be removed to shower, and hoped they didn’t rust shut. But then again, just thinking about that did cause a tiny, pleasurable tingle deep in the bottom of your gut. What if you were stuck, living this way forever? The idea was exciting in the moment.

Meanwhile I took in my situation along with my beer and cigarette by the fire. My post-nut clarity had me feeling kind of guilty. Had your infraction really been severe enough to warrant all of that? On the other hand, it’s not like I had forced it on you. You could have used your safeword. You could have said no when we had the check-in in the car that afternoon. I tried to ignore the itching feeling in the back of my head and remind myself that you were a fully grown woman, more than capable of making decisions for yourself.

It’s funny, most of the time when people in the BDSM community talk about safewords or aftercare, it’s in the context of protecting the submissive. But here I was desperately in need of reassurance while you were so deep in submissive mode you probably wouldn’t even be able to comprehend what I was feeling. Like most feelings, though, it passed and I resolved to bring it up after Monday had come and gone.

In the meantime I had another plan. You had expressed to me many times an interest in exhibitionism. Maybe I could reward you tomorrow for being such a good sub. You had certainly earned it. I checked FetLife, and googled around a bunch. Finally I found it. There was a kink-friendly swingers’ club about a half hour from us.

Up in the shower you were using all of your willpower not to masturbate. Would I know? Would it really make a difference? Your soapy hands, manacled together, reached downwards. But when they got to your bush they stopped. Would they still have stopped if you had known how much more edging was yet to come? What if you had known that the next time you’d be allowed to come it would be on display for a room full of kinky people?

I could hear you cooking inside, so I let the fire die down. After a while I doused it, then began the long walk across the yard back to our vacation rental. I stopped on the porch, to watch your beautiful body working around the limitations of the shackles while you cooked. I was horny again already. I always was when I saw you naked, it’s so immediate, so consuming. I wished that I could keep you naked all the time. You looked happy.

When I opened the door you put down the spatula and turned to me, smiling. Then, carefully, you sank to your knees, and opened your mouth. That was all the reassurance I needed.