I’ve been married to my husband for ten years. We’ve been exploring BDSM, including my masochism and his need for dominance, for the last four years.

We celebrated our tenth anniversary in Jamaica earlier this year. I spent my mornings and afternoons being loved and adored by my gentle, kind husband.

And I spent my nights screaming so loud I was sure the neighbors at our all-inclusive resort could hear. Our best night was when he tied me to the bed to immobilize my movement. I was wet already just from being tied up and making out. He spent the first 30 minutes on just my breast, pulling and stretching my nipples until they were no longer pink but deep red. Covering my breasts with bites before slapping them with his hands and later, his black leather belt. He clamps my tender nipples, pulling on the chain connecting my clover clamps, before resuming slapping my tits.

He kisses me, hard, and slaps my face in quick succession. One, twice, three times. His arm slithers down my body, spreading open my pussy. Two fingers quickly enter me with a rough rub to my clit. “Sir, more, please…” No words, but I soon feel intensely full. “How many fingers are in there?” He smirks “Does it matter? You’ll take what I give you.” I feel his face move to my pussy, his tongue working over my clit while he has four fingers deep inside me. My entire body is trembling. “Breathe deep, baby. I’m going to position my hand differently and fit my thumb in so I can slide my whole fist in. I want you to feel me everywhere.” My wetness is the only lube we’ve been using. The addition of his thumb as pushes up to his wrist burns. My tits are on fire. My face stings. I fuck his hand anyway.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want to come.” He smirks again, using his free hand to slap against my swollen clit. I moan. He slaps it again, again, again. My nipples ache. My pussy is on fire from stretching. His free hand now rubs my clit in tiny, maddening circles while I hump his fist with the limited movement I have available to me. “I have to pee,” I whine. “You don’t. You’re getting ready to cum, really cum. Ask me.”

There was no time. I came all over his fist, squeezing his fist so hard. “Oh, you know better.” The fist slips out of my soaking pussy, and his pussy drenched fingers gag me into the back of my throat. “Clean up your mess.” I suck his fingers, cleaning each one individually.

He toys with the chain between my clamps, eventually pulling one clamp off than the next. I feel my restraints being released. He grabs me by the tits, dragging my head off the side of the bed. I feel his belt slip around my neck as his cock buries itself in my throat. The angle is so deep. I gag, choking on his dick, and then I feel the belt tightening around my throat as his thrusts increase. “I couldn’t decide if I wanted to choke you with my cock or hands. You look so beautiful both ways.” He pulls out of my mouth abruptly. “I want you fully back on the bed. Turn over, ass up.”

I do. The belt is removed around my neck, only to be found again in his hands. The blood flow has come back to my nipples, causing them to burn something fierce now that they are rubbing against our hotel sheets. I feel the belt come down on my bare ass. We’ve done this before. Ten to my ass because he loves seeing his mark on me. Spread my legs. Ten to my pussy with the belt because I’m supposed to remember I’m his tomorrow. I take it all like a good girl.

When he sinks his cock into me from behind, my body is a wreck. Endorphins are running everywhere, and I moan as he pulls my long hair to leverage a better grip. He slams into me, and I cum again seconds after he does.

He turns me on my back, observing damages. There is bruising already. My cunt throbs and burns. He kisses me gently, pushes my hair back, and leaves to bring me water and a good night’s rest.