The Couple

I told her to undress him.

She undid his buttons, opening his shirt, while I adjusted the volume on the stereo. Ali Farka Toure’s “Ai Du” (from the 2002 movie “Unfaithful”) floated through the room.

“Now you undress her.” His hands fumbled a little with her clothes, which I anticipated. But since she’d already told me that she had nothing on under her tank top and skirt, I figured it’d be okay.

“I’ve been reading ’50 Shades of Grey,'” she’d texted when she requested the visit. “Uhm…very, very energetically charged today. ;);)”

They faced each other, naked. His arms circled around her waist and hers around his neck. I shook loose a length of hemp and bound his wrists together at the small of her back, threading the two lines  into the crack of her ass, between the lips of her sex, then through his legs, pulling the lines tightly so that they pressed against his balls and perineum. Then I bound her wrists with the same rope, wrapping the remainder around their bodies, pressing them even closer together.

Then I pressed myself against their seam and began warming her bottom with my left hand and his with my right. It was getting hot. Grabbing my 6ft Australian single tail, I got down on my knees and started swinging so that the whip would wrap around her body but the tail would sting against his ass. Wrap. Sting. Wrap. Sting. Around and around. He was kissing her neck. She was trembling. She’d never been whipped before.

When I untied them, I maintained the tension on the line as I dragged it back through her legs so that she felt the friction on her clit. I could feel her wet on the rope.

My skin erupted in goosebumps when I realized what I was going to do next.

She was ordered into the Pound. He was stretched over it, face down, his wrists cuffed in leather and locked to the frame, his legs spread its width by a spreader bar. Butterfly clamps dangled from his nipples, tethered to a small vibrator she held.

“Pleasure yourself or pleasure him as you like,” I told her. “Whatever you do, I’m going to beat him.”

A buffalo flogger. A bound cluster of resin canes. A 1 ½ in. wide wooden paddle. Whenever I’d strike particularly hard, he’d whoosh, “Thank you, Mistress.” When I’d change implements, I’d hear him say, “I’m taking this for her” (meaning the woman in the cage). He was rock hard, even though she kept the vibrator to herself the whole time.

Finally, I ordered them both to the bondage bed. She on bottom, legs spread and cuffed at the ankles to the sides. He sat on top of her, knees bent, bound from ankle to thigh, straddling her. The goosebumps rose again when I placed the punishing scolds bridle on his head with the instructions: “This does not come off you until she gets off” and handed him the Hitatchi Magic Wand.  The spiked plate pressed on to his tongue as he pressed the vibrator against her pussy. I put my lips to her ear and started whispering very, very dirty things.

I meant every word.