Illusion of control

"You'll tell me if I hurt you, right?"

"Arthur, stop being such a pussy. You're supposed to be in control here, act like it," Gwen finally snaps. "Now finish tying me up."

Arthur had always been a bit preoccupied with Guinevere's perfectly round little backside. Then last week he'd confessed to having a spanking fantasy, and suddenly his preoccupation made sense. So tonight Gwen had offered to let him fulfill his fantasy, presenting him with satin ropes, handcuffs, an eye mask, a paddle and a riding crop.

He stared at the items for several minutes before he'd finally looked at her and simply said, "Really? I can?"

Only now, when he was in the process of tying her wrists to the headboard, he started to chicken out. Constantly asking if she's sure, if she's all right.

Gwen simply wanted him to take charge and give it to her. She knows he's capable of it. He runs a Fortune 500 company. He knows how to take charge.

"Sorry," he says, pulling the knot secure.

"Don't apologize. Pretend you're at work."

"What?"

"You are a commanding presence at work, Arthur. Everyone's a little afraid of you."

"I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"Arthur, I want to be a little afraid of you," she purrs, looking over her shoulder at him.

Arthur's cock suddenly sits up and takes notice. He steps back and admires his work.

His lovely Guinevere, on her knees, her torso propped up on numerous pillows, her hands tied to the bed. Her hair is in two ponytails and she is wearing red stiletto heels and nothing else.

"Wow," he croaks, sliding his hand across her ass, which is pointed at him, daring him, inviting him. "Do you want the mask?"

"If you want me to wear the mask… Master," she says, keeping her voice in that same purring, seductive tone.

"Holy shit…" he mutters quietly. He takes the mask, a purple satin eye mask that Gwen received as a part of a bath and body gift basket, and slips it carefully over her eyes.

"We should have a safe word," he declares, trying to sound confident. In truth, he's still a bit nervous. "In case you want me to stop."

"Okay," she says, turning her head to the side to rest on the pillow. "Um, ukulele."

"Ukulele?"

"Hey, it's gotta be something specific, right? Something that isn't likely to be misheard."

"Fair enough," he says. Then, swallowing hard, he ventures, "Now be quiet." Then he smacks her backside once, but not terribly hard.

"Mmm," Gwen coos, settling in finally. She thinks she hears the soft cottony sound of Arthur's boxers dropping to the floor.

"Do you want me to do that again?" he asks, climbing onto the bed behind her now, his palm caressing her skin gently. It almost tickles, he is touching so softly.

"Yes… Master," she answers.

He obliges, spanking her other cheek now, a little harder.

"Ooo."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. He glances at the paddle and the crop. I think I'm enjoying using my hand right now, he decides, and whaps her again.

She whimpers deliciously, and he slides his hand over her pinkening cheeks a few more times before delivering another spank, harder still.

"Oh!"

Arthur is about to ask her if she's all right, but he bites his tongue. She certainly looks all right. And she didn't say the safe word. He runs his hand around and down, touching her briefly in between her legs. His fingers come back slick with her moisture.

All right, then. His own arousal is growing ever more needful with each blow, and currently it's pressing against the back of Gwen's thighs as he kneels behind her.

He grows more confident with each coo of pleasure, each impassioned cry only encourages him until he can take no more and buries himself into her from behind.

"Oh, God, Arthur!" she exclaims, his sudden entrance taking her slightly by surprise.

He thrusts hard and slaps her behind once more, sharply.

"Master, I mean! Oh, Master!"

Mindless of anything but her now, he drives into her from behind, snaking his hand around now to stroke her into the same mindless state, his other hand gripping her hip.

"Oh… Gui… nnnnnahhh…." Arthur slowly groans her name, abandoning it after the second syllable as he comes, his whole body a coiled spring let loose into her. Mindlessly his fingers still work at her center and she spirals down right behind him, screaming his name into the pillows.

He collapses over her, yanking pillows out from underneath her so she stop kneeling. Reaching up to untie her hands, he spoons up behind her and kisses her behind the ear, gently taking the mask off now.

"God, I love you," he whispers.

The next morning, while Gwen is in the shower, Arthur opens her nightstand drawer in search of a pair of nail clippers. He finds a copy of 50 Shades of Grey staring up at him with a bookmark placed very near the end of it.

"Hmm…" he picks up the book, his jagged fingernail forgotten, and starts to read.