This story takes place a few months after Numilekunoluwa--Numi--first drove three hours just to let me whisper filth in her ear, edge her senseless, and deny her release.

We stayed in touch, exchanging voice notes that grew bolder each night. I’d send her short, low-toned commands, and she’d send back these breathy, desperate responses--sometimes just her muffled moans, letting me know how badly she missed my rope and my sadistic streak.

It was obvious I had an effect on her, and her me. I'd edge for hours from just the memories alone.

When she told me she was coming back in town for work, I knew we’d be diving even deeper.

A part of me still remembers that first night--her Yoruba curses, the tears of frustration, the soaked sheets. She’d left trembling from hours of edging with no release, vowing she’d get her orgasm one day. But if there’s one thing we both love, it’s pushing the boundaries of pleasure and pain until all sense of time and reason evaporates.

I think it's why we got along so well.

This time, she showed up in broad daylight, hair braided into a sleek style that brushed her shoulders, wearing a flowy sundress that did nothing to hide those luscious hips.

I couldn't help but to stare.

She walked in with a sly grin that made her dimple really show, carrying an overnight bag, and gave me a quick, heated kiss before casually dropping onto my couch like she owned the place.

“So,” she said, crossing her legs, “you gonna make me beg for it again?”

I looked at her, voice low: “Begging’s only the start of what I have planned for you today, Numi.”

She licked her lips, eyes flicking to my bedroom door. “I’m all yours.”

I guided her to the bedroom, but this time, I had a few new tools laid out--a set of pinwheel rollers, some heavier clamps, a spreader bar, and a brand-new flogger that shimmered with dark leather. She caught sight of them, breath hitching, but her eyes never left mine. She wanted this. We’d talked about it at length those nights were such fond memories. We talked about exploring the line between intense pain and raw, unstoppable pleasure, the kind that leaves you trembling and soaked.

I pulled out a piece of paper with our safeword system--three colors: green for more, please, yellow for ease up, red for immediate stop. She smirked. “I remember,” she whispered. “You know I trust you.”

Numi didn’t come all this way to be gentle.

Neither did I.

She turned her back to me, slipping the straps of her sundress down. The fabric pooled at her feet, revealing the honey-brown skin I couldn’t wait to mark. No bra, just a lacy black thong that barely covered anything. I pressed my chest against her back, lips grazing her neck. “When I’m done with you,” I murmured, “I guarantee that thong will be in my hand--and you’ll be begging just to stand up straight.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Promises, promises.”

I started slow, binding her wrists behind her back with a soft but sturdy rope. Her arms pressed together, making her breasts rise. She stared at me over her shoulder, excitement dancing in her eyes. Then I helped her onto the bed, positioning her on all fours, ankles spread apart by the bar so she couldn’t close her legs. The thong was still on--for now--but it was already damp in the center.

I took a moment just to watch her: face flushed, lips parted, hitched breathing, that gorgeous ass perched in the air. She gave a small wiggle, testing the bar, testing her freedom. Not a chance.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

I slid her thong to the side, exposing her glistening folds. Her breath caught. She knew we were about to cross from simple edging into something… darker. More intense.

Pinwheel in hand, I started at her shoulder blades, rolling the tiny metal spikes gently down her spine. She shivered, a gasp escaping her lips. The pins left goosebumps in their wake. I dragged it over the curve of her ass, then along her inner thighs, letting her feel each little sting.

Her head dropped forward, a low moan escaping. “Fuck… that’s so… good.”

I smirked, increasing the pressure just enough to make the pricks sharper. I could see her pussy clench in response, dripping even more. When I finally rolled it over her outer lips, she tensed, a high-pitched whine slipping out.

“Color?” I asked, voice firm.

“Green,” she gasped.

“Good.”

Next came the clamps--heavier than the ones I used last time. I reached around her torso, gripping a breast in each hand, kneading until her nipples were stiff. Then I attached the clamps, adjusting until she winced and whimpered.

A satisfied grin tugged at my lips. “Does that hurt, Numi?”

“Yes,” she breathed, “oh God, yes.”

"Good"

She arched her back, presenting those clamped tits like an offering. I let my palm glide over her ass, fingers curling around the thong, giving it a snap. Then I picked up the flogger. Softly at first, a gentle swish across her skin. Her breathing hitched again, body tensing in anticipation. The second strike was firmer, a thwap that left a faint mark on her dark brown skin. She groaned, toes curling.

I rained a series of methodical strikes, each one making her gasp, shudder, or moan. The clamps jiggled with every move, sending extra jolts of sensation through her nipples. Her thighs shook, drool collecting at the corner of her mouth from the pleasurepain swirling in her veins.

I'm not ashamed to say I took pleasure from hurting her. It felt like with each strike my dick grew harder, and harder. I don't know what it is inside me that loves it but I do.

I crave it.

I paused the flogger and slid two fingers between her folds, stroking her clit in slow circles. She tried to buck against my hand, but the spreader bar kept her pinned. A strangled moan tore from her lips when I pressed those fingers deep inside her. Lube was ready on standby but not needed. She was practically leaking.

Like reader, I can't express enough how wet she washeat was enveloping my digits like a velvet glove. I curled them just right, brushing that sweet spot that made her see stars. Her walls clenched. She was dangerously close.

“Don’t you dare come,” I warned, withdrawing my fingers abruptly. She whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes, but a twisted smile tugged at her lips. She loved it, loved the torment, loved that I was controlling every inch of her body.

I did too.

I decided to up the ante.

Removing the thong entirely, I cut it off and threw it on the floor. . Her pussy was fully exposed now, glistening. I grabbed a slender vibrating wand, pressed it against her clit. She jolted like she’d been shocked. The clamps on her nipples bounced with every twitch.

“Color?” I demanded again, wanting to be sure.

She let out a strangled “G-green,” through panting breaths.

I nodded, amping the wand up to a higher setting. She screamed into the mattress, hips jerking as I pinned her in place by gripping the spreader bar. The vibrations poured through her body like a tidal wave, and I could tell she was right there, teetering.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” she managed, voice cracking.

But I pulled it away again, leaving her trembling, half-lost in a wave that never finished. She practically sobbed, nails digging into her palms. “Please, I can’t—It’s too much.”

I chuckled softly. “Oh, we’re far from done.”

Leaving her panting, I unfastened the spreader bar from one ankle, just enough to twist her body. She ended up on her side, wrists still bound behind her, clamps still tugging at her nipples. I kneaded her inner thigh, feeling the muscle tense. Then I pressed the vibrator directly on her clit again, setting it to a low rumble. She keened, tears streaming down her face, chanting, “Oh God… oh God…” as I kept her in that state of borderline agony and bliss.

The wet sounds of her pussy were obscene--squelching every time she clenched around nothing, desperate for me to fill her. I kept my mouth at her ear, whispering filth: “You love being my little torture toy, don’t you? Dripping for me while I torment this sweet cunt?”

She nodded, biting her lip until it bled.

After what felt like an eternity of edging, tears, and pleas, I decided to grant her a break--and a taste of what she’d driven here for. I unbuckled the restraints, carefully removed the clamps from her aching nipples (earning a sharp cry), and gently massaged her wrists to get some circulation back. She collapsed onto the sheets, body shaking, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and raw lust.

I stripped off my clothes, climbing over her. Her gaze dropped to my dick—rock hard, glistening with a bit of lube I’d applied. She said it looked heavy and She licked her swollen lips, wordlessly pleading for a taste. But I wanted something else first.

I flipped her onto her back, legs pinned wide. Slipping my arms under her knees, I lined myself up with her soaked entrance. She grabbed my shoulders, nails biting in, as I pressed just the tip inside.

She let out a sob of relief, “Please, oh fuck… let me come, let me come.”

“Not yet,” I growled, pushing in a few torturous inches. She was so warm, so tight, the friction almost sending me over the edge, too. But I held on. This was about pushing her, finishing what we started.

We locked eyes, and I slammed the rest of the way in, burying myself to the hilt. She cried out, back arching, ankles locking behind me. The pressure was unreal, her walls clutching me like a vice. I started thrusting, each stroke deliberate, punishing, hitting deep. Her moans spiraled into incoherent babbling, Yoruba mixing with pleas for mercy.

I leaned down, lips brushing her ear again: “Now… come for me.”

That did it.

She shattered around me, a scream ripping from her throat. Her pussy clenched so hard it nearly milked the orgasm right out of me. I pumped through her orgasm, letting her ride it out, body quaking beneath me. The sensation was fucking electric.

Watching her come undone unleashed something primal in me. I grabbed her hair, pulling back gently, exposing her neck. My thrusts turned feral, every inch of me throbbing. I felt that tension coil low in my belly, and then I was coming, filling her, growling her name like a goddamn mantra. We hung there together, suspended in that white-hot moment, hearts pounding like war drums.

When the world settled, I carefully eased out of her. We were both shaking, drenched in sweat. I untangled the rope still around her wrists that I didn't get off earlier, rubbing the marks with soothing strokes. She buried her face in my neck, letting out a small, exhausted laugh.

*“You… bastard,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Worth every mile.”

I helped her to the bathroom, ran a warm shower, checked for any bruises that needed care, pressed gentle kisses over her trembling form. She was quiet, dazed, but the contented glow in her eyes told me she was good. We toweled off, me whispering praises in her ear, reminding her how incredible she was, how proud I was of her for taking every bit of punishment I dished out.

We ended up cuddling in bed, limbs entwined. She dozed off for a bit, head on my chest, still occasionally shivering from the aftershocks. I just stroked her hair, content to watch her breathe, amazed by how one human being could handle so much and still ask for more.

After a while, she stirred, peered up at me with a slow grin. “If you think I’m done with you,” she murmured, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

She had revenge in her eyes.

I couldn't wait to find out what she had in store for me.

So yeah, that’s the story of how Numi came back--and we dove into a world of blissful agony, pussy torture, and an orgasm that nearly blew out her vocal cords.

After this particular encounter if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Numi’s hunger for my special brand of torment only grows the more we feed it.

Have you ever had someone who loved pushing your limits this far? Because let me tell you, once you find that perfect partner in pain and pleasure, you’ll never settle for vanilla again.