Crack!... Crack!... The whip sounded as I flogged my fiancรฉ. I'm sure there isn't a man in the world who wouldn't have a concrete erection looking at her right now.
Wrists bound and beginning to bruise, tied to a hook in the ceiling specifically installed there only for this one purpose. Blindfolded and unaware of when or where the next strike will occur. The welts and bruises all over her body starting to take shape into what she'll look at in the mirror over the next week reminding her of the good whore she's been.
Her nipples turning purple from the clamps that she forgot she's wearing. I place one hand on her throat "It's time to take them off." I whisper into her ear from behind her.
"Take what off Daddy?" she replies.
I shove my fully erect cock into her dripping wet pussy from behind and at the same time pull her nipple clamps off one after the other. The searing pain of the blood rushing into her nipples feels like a hot poker, making her clench her vagina even harder around my raging hard cock and she loses sense of what is pleasure and what is pain.
She cannot remember what the difference is anymore and only knows that it feels euphoric. I can feel her juices trying to push their way around my cock as her pussy continues to squeeze me. I grab her throat harder and in one final thrust, I release my load into her causing her to loose whatever little bit she was holding back onto me.
I gently untie her and take the blindfold off, kissing every bruise and welt as I do so. I whisper in her ear "I love you, you're a good whore."
"Thank you Daddy." she says.
Afterwards we lay on the bed covered in sweat locked in a embrace, my arm around her as she lays with her head on my chest falling asleep to the rhythmic beat of my heart.
I'm awoken the next day by a gentle kiss. "I love you, I'm off to work." She says. I would've loved to drag her back into bed and had my way with her right then, but unfortunately the real world was beaconing.
I knew she'd be thinking of last night throughout the day though. Her drive to work, sitting at her desk, having to talk to her co-workers unable to look anyone in the eyes for fear they'll somehow know the whore she really is.
Alas, it was my turn to get up and brave the real world. I got through my routine of waking up and left the house.
I stopped at a coffee house on my way to work, and unlike my fiancรฉ, I love looking people in the eyes and talking to them thinking about the dirty things I do with my whore.
Maybe it's a power trip or something.
I order my coffee looking straight into the barista's eyes thinking of just that. He begins to make my drink and I notice that the crotch in his pants seems to be a bit bulged. 'Does he have a hard on' I think to myself. He hands me my drink and I think nothing more of it.
I return to the task of driving to work, periodically taking sips of my coffee. As I reach for the cup in my cup holder for the fifth or sixth time I notice a number written next to a name on my cup. The name is not mine.
'Did he give me the wrong drink' I wonder. Well, I've gone too far to return now so I guess I'm sticking with Adams drink. 'But what is the number, should I call it. Maybe later' I think.
I get to work and go through the monotony of the everyday bullshit. Lunch time comes around and I'm getting my things together and see the empty cup still on my desk. "Fuck it, I'm calling it." I leave the office get in my car and call the number on the side of the cup.
No answer. A voicemail. "This is Adam, leave a message." Short and to the point. The voice sounded familiar. "Where have I heard it."
I'm not the brightest sometimes.
Of course it was the barista! He did have a hard on! And he gave me his number! But wait, I'm not gay. 'Should I leave a message' I pondered. Nope. I hung up the phone had lunch finished work and went home.
"How was your day sweetheart?" my fiancรฉ Amy says to me.
"It was pretty normal I guess. A man gave me his number."
"What!" she exclaims. "And how did that make you feel?" She Asks.
I tell her "It was exciting at first then I remembered I'm straight."
"Well, did you think he was attractive?" she asks.
"I guess, he definitely had a hard on." I tell her.
"So you were looking at his crotch?" she said with one eyebrow raised.
"Uh, yeah I guess I did." I admit.
"Maybe you're not as straight as you think babe." She says.
Shit...maybe she's right.
Almost like magic my phone rings and I immediately recognize the number. It's him. I answer with a mix of fear, curiosity, and excitement. "Hello"
"Hey this is Adam, sorry to call back so late, but did somebody from this number call me earlier?"
After what was probably a little to long of a silence I respond "Um, yes. This is Andre. You gave me your number at the coffee house this morning."
"Yes I did. I'm glad you decided to use it. I don't usually give my number to strangers but when you spoke to me I could see something in your eyes that really turned me on."
'Shit. Did he know what I was thinking about' I wondered.
"I'm not gay." I blurted out.