Leather

I love the smell, the feel, the touch of leather. I mentioned this some time ago and now He has decided that for 48 hours i  shall feel only leather on my skin. Well, leather and him.  I arrived at his home and he immediately ripped my clothing from my body. I love and hate when this happens. His power, his strength both frighten and thrill me, but I also know that when I leave, I will be wearing only one of his dress shirts and, perhaps, a belt to hold it in place plus my shoes.

After I am completely nude (aside from the shoes) you use two belts to bind my legs. You've never done this before and the position is both erotic and uncomfortable. I can still close my legs but I cannot straighten them. You wear leather gloves so that i cannot feel the skin of your hands touching me. I begin to speak, but you want none of this and so you gag me with another leather belt. It is thin, so in theory I could speak around it and it in no way restricts my breathing. I'm grateful for the thinness because this also always me to bite down on it which I need to do .

You push my bound legs apart and using your gloved hand, you spank my pussy. Pain radiates through me and tears spill down my cheeks, but my pussy responds well to this treatment and so you continue until the smacks resound with a wet, slurping sound. 

You stand then, unzip your trousers and push your hard cock into my swollen, tender hole. I raise my hips as best I can and cry out again, this time with pleasure, when you begin to fuck me. It hurts. Oh how it hurts, but more than that, the look of pleasure on your face and the feel of you inside of me push me over the edge and I coat your cock with my cum. You pull out and stroke yourself, finally coming across my stomach and breasts.

You release my legs and allow me a few moments to recover. You stand and dress yourself then help me to stand as well. You do not remove the belt around my head and i know this is for a reason. I will need to bite down again. I will not be allowed to speak. You have me bend, placing my hands on an end table in your living room. I am facing a window and am grateful for the thin sheer curtain. You remove your gloves and I am grateful for that as well. I love your hands. It is not, though, your hands on me now. It is the leather slapper. I hate that blasted thing. It takes so little effort from you for it to leave marks on my skin, which is exactly why you enjoy it so much. I bite down on the belt and dance a bit from foot to foot. Once again tears flow easily from my eyes but you show no mercy. My ass is on fire and, shamefully, I can smell my own arousal again. Just when I think I will break and use my safe word you stop. I suck in air from around my gag but I do not break position. I know better. I hear as you move about the room, humming to yourself. I hear ice drop into a glass and smell whiskey. I listen to your footsteps fade and you walk into your bedroom. Then silence. 

You come back, take my arms and position them behind my back. You wrap a soft piece of leather around them, binding them in place. I feel the tip of a plug against my anus and bite down. You tell me that you have had this plug specially made. It was not overly large so that I could wear it for an extended time bu it was also made of specially treated leather. This is going to be a wonderful weekend.