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Mother and son get wild on a business trip

The result thwarted any attempts she might make to close her legs.

I rounded the bed several times, inspecting the security of her bonds, admiring her vulnerable position, and finally decided something more was needed. Having her lean forward as much as possible, I used two more backpacking straps, wrapping them firmly around her torso, above and below her breasts, tying the tails together behind her. Then she leaned back against the pillows, resting comfortably.

I rounded the bed again, this time purely to admire her. She was indeed a beautiful vision of vulnerability. With her arms stretched wide and her legs parted in an unladylike manner, she was on full display for me, yet the trust was clear in her expressive eyes. Judging by the hardened points on her nipples, she was already aroused simply from being restrained.

I was already aroused simply from having restrained her. I noticed her gaze drop to my jeans and her eyes sparkle appreciatively as the edges of her dainty lips curled upward.

She would soon no longer be smiling. I would make certain of that.

I moved to stand behind her, gathering her hair together and centering it so that I could massage her shoulders. Despite the somewhat taut position of her arms, I could feel her already beginning to relax.

"Please hurt me."

"Not quite yet."


I spent a long time massaging her shoulders, moving out along her arms to the foam-lined cuffs and returning to her shoulders again. My arousal was further steeled by these touches, by the soft sighs of contentment. How many times had I massaged her before? Yet every time still felt like the first time.

In time, I stepped away, leaving her bound on the bed. I felt her eyes upon me as I went to the closet and selected the heavy leather flogger from its hook. The many lengthy tails were indeed weighty in my hands as I hefted the source of my companion's impending pain.

I returned to the bed, holding the flogger to her lips. With the grace of an angel, she kissed the handle, then kissed each individual tail as it was held before her. As I retracted the flogger, she looked up at me expectantly, imploring me with her eyes.

I moved to stand behind her once again, and placed the flogger beside her. My hands returned to the previous task of massaging her shoulders, and I felt her relax anew. After a few minutes, my hands began a slow descent down the front of her body, my fingers ultimately curling over the swell of each breast, squeezing gently, lifting each lobe and balancing its gentle weight. I continued until she was whimpering nicely, her body beginning to move sensuously against the bonds, then retracted my hands.

Slowly, I reached for the heavy flogger. I picked it up, attuning myself to its weight in my hand, its texture against my palm and my curled fingers. I then slowly began to drag the many tails across her body, up and down her torso, along her thighs, around her neck, along her arms. She was breathing softly but a little faster, and I could easily imagine her heart rate increasing in anticipation of the impending pain.

For my part, standing behind the headboard, I was fully erect, pressing myself against the headboard for a slight relief from the growing pressure within me. Yet while I wanted to bury myself in her vulnerable body, I knew that that was not the point of the night, that I needed to fulfill my role as her caring tormenter, as the one to master her.

Without warning, I spun my wrist, the tails of the flogger standing on end and splitting the air with in the process. The first kiss of the leather was applied to her chest, an initial bite of light pain to her right breast. She hissed softly, stiffening, pulling slightly against her bonds.

"I like hurting you," I admitted, dragging the tails across the just-whipped swell. "I like watching you struggle and listening to your gasps and cries."

"I know," she replied quietly, relaxing into the pillows again, "and I like the pain."

Lifting the flogger away, I squeezed her r

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