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In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 01

By: rbobrien



I loved to keep her tied up at night. It was so fun to listen to her tormented breathing as she tried to fall asleep, unsatisfied, aching, her clit so swollen I could almost pick it like a ripe strawberry. I was a sadistic bastard, but she was different. Sometimes giving her pleasure was almost as enjoyable as giving her pain; her orgasms were so intense, when I finally let her have one, that even in her sexual ecstasy, I could tell it was almost excruciating for her.

I had her wrists bound with rope that I then kept tied to the bed posts above her head, tautly, until she would calm down a bit. Then I would loosen the tautness so that she could draw her arms down when she finally succumbed to sleep. She was able to move her body to find a comfortable position, usually curled up on her side in a suffering, fetal position, arms closed in by her chest. I loved knowing that in the morning, as soon as she woke, I would have her at my mercy again, begging me to let her come, to use the bathroom, to be untied. I kept my box of goodies beside the bed. Tickling her, using a feather, was my favorite torture device in the morning. Watching her squirm and beg never got old for me.

As I watched her lying there, after I had teased her for over an hour, bringing her to the edge six or seven times, my satisfaction evident all over her tits and stomach, she bore a hole through me with her huge, brown eyes. They begged me, full of lust and longing, as her body heaved with pants, erratic breathing. Her breasts were so engorged, they almost looked silly. She was petite, slender, tiny, except for her breasts and ass. Her breasts were extremely large for her body, her waist that of a child's. She often talked about getting a breast reduction, but if she knew how turned on she made me, how much lust I felt for her because of them, she would have vanquished the thought from her mind.

After she had sucked me to orgasm, I had played with my cum across those beautiful tits as she continued to wriggle and squirm. Her nipples were so sensitive that just a few touches, especially if I touched them ever-so-lightly, soaked her pussy so thoroughly that I could keep her in a state of arousal pretty much whenever I wanted, which was a lot. And the poor thing loved me. And not only did I revel in torturing her body, but I reveled in torturing her mind. Mind games had always been a favorite of mine, but with Emily, it was becoming a necessity. Much to my disappointment, I was falling for her as well, and this was very new to me. 

"Time for sleep, Emily," I teased, as I pushed her long, dark waves away from her damp face. I was sadistic, but I also didn't want to see her choking on her beautiful strands.

"Oh, Jonathan," she groaned. "Please."

"Good night, Emily." I closed my eyes and loosened the rope. I pretended to fall asleep, so she would be forced to give up.

Even when I was exhausted, I would force myself to stay awake, feigning sleep. I loved to hear her whimpers, feel her trembling, unfulfilled body next to mine. She didn't know this, but she almost always fell asleep before I did. Sometimes it would take her up to two hours before she could calm down, as I lie with my back to her, smiling, trying to hold in my laughter. Her thrashing would go on and on some nights, then she'd still and the moans and whimpers would start, and finally her breathing would come back, and she'd find fitful sleep. Only then could I really sleep, dreaming of playing with her all over again.

The weekends were my favorite, because I could keep her in bed with me for as long as I wanted. She was a college professor in their art department, and I owned my own computer business. No one, our friends, our coworkers, our family, no one knew about our sick and passionate love life. This we kept a great secret, which could also be really fun, especially in public when I had a vibrator taped inside of her that I controlled by remote. 

When I woke the next morning, I watched her. God, she was beautiful, naked, tangled in her dark locks. Sometimes I let her sleep before I began my torture again. But it was difficult to lie there staring at the rise and fall of her breasts, and I was never good at holding off my own pleasure the way I forced her to do. I kneeled over her on the bed to tighten the rope so that her arms stretched far above her head, just slightly uncomfortable. She was on her side, arms stretched, and she started to move a bit, feeling the strain, as it forced her awake.

I got off the bed to get my favorite toys, some feathers, the paintbrushes I often used to tickle her clit and pussy lips. I needed to replace these items quite often, I used them so frequently. Tickling her was a great show for me to watch, especially when I tied her legs spread eagle as well, so helpless that her eyes would well up with tears almost immediately. Light teasing and tickles turned her on the most. It was so easy to get her to the edge. Many of the women I had been with took time to rile up, a slow build. Not Emily. One touch, just over her belly and she writhed. She made it too easy for me. A sadist's dream really.

As I could feel her gradually waking, I pulled the covers off her body. I loved the chilly morning air to torture her. Her nipples perked to attention, as her body began to realize its discomfort. I loved to watch her shiver, whether it was nature's fault or my own. Her unease was my pleasure. Goosebumps began to travel up her body, as she lied there completely naked, extended, helpless.

She opened her eyes slowly and immediately began to try to move her hands down to search for the covers, and then, just as quickly, realized her predicament. She found my smirking eyes immediately, and shivered at a heightened level.

She looked up to me with those doe eyes of hers (it took a lot of strength for me not to cave when I saw her like that) and trembled, asking "Is it cold in here?"

"I imagine it is," I replied, all too knowingly. Of course it was cold. It was in the dead of New England winter. I purposely hadn't turned back up the heat, and we had been under several blankets and a goose down comforter overnight. And I was fully clothed, while she lay there vulnerable and naked. I loved to watch her nipples become stiff and erect, playing with them like that was worse for her, and she and I both knew it. If the weather itself couldn't produce those shivers I liked to watch, ice cubes usually did the trick.

"Jonathan," she moaned, starting to struggle a bit more when she saw the feather I held in my hand.

I couldn't help it anymore, and I had to let out a chuckle. Maybe I was being a bit too cruel. I saw breath escape her lips, but I also knew that the pipes couldn't freeze; I did have it on 56. She'd be sweating soon enough anyway. My cock was already on its ascent, watching her like this. Any chance she may have had was now null and void. My penis and my brain were one in the same. The more misery she was in, the harder my cock. Simple fact.

I licked first one nipple then the other, extremely lightly. She tried to arch her back as her full breasts seemed to grow bigger, if that was even possible. I took her chin in my hands. "How'd you sleep?" I teased. "Did you have nice dreams?" I lightly stroked her chin, then her collarbone, working down through the valley of her tits, watching her eyes already glaze over with desire. I stopped so she could answer and waited.

"I did not sleep well," she admitted, and I continued with my light touches, driving her breathing to a distressed speed. So quick, so easy.

"No?" I taunted, tickling her lower belly, that almost painful erogenous zone for her. "How come?" I exaggerated the final word.

"Jonathan," she squeezed her legs. "Please."

"Hmmm," I was deciding whether to tie her legs apart to fully torture her, knowing soon she'd need to use the bathroom. I loved making her wait to piss. When I let her orgasm that way, it intensified it for her so much that she once told me she saw colors in her head. But today, I wasn't sure if I was going to let her come. At least not right away. I decided to keep her legs untied, for the time being, and instead fuck with her mind instead.

"Spread your legs for me, Emily." I knew she was hopeful. Sometimes I dove into her for a good, hearty fuck when I asked her to do that. Not just yet, but she didn't need to know that.

"Yes," she said, eyes wide, excited, begging, with that hope I was about to crush.

I pulled out the feather and I watched her tremble and try to take a huge breath. I loved watching her torment. My cock grew larger and larger the more she struggled. Not good for her. She couldn't control her reactions like some women I had been with. She tried, oh did she try, but she simply couldn't. She was a real passionate type, very emotional. What did I expect from an art teacher?

"Do not put your legs back together, Emily," I warned. She just closed her eyes and let out a shaky, long exhale, which made me smile so hard I almost started to laugh.

I tickled her with the feather, starting on her collarbone, but I stopped just to see if she was wet and ran a finger up her slit. She was more than wet, she was actually dripping. The sudden, unexpected touch of my finger made her start to close her legs to squeeze some pressure away.

"Naughty," I warned again. I thought I should let her go to the bathroom, so I could make this a tortuously long lesson. I knew right then I was definitely not going to let her come. This was way more fun, and once I had her suck my cock to pleasure, teasing her would be a breeze for me. Every time after I came, it took me at least an hour or two to get hard again. Lots of time to pleasure torture my little, squirming doe. She sensed her fate, because her breathing picked up unsteadily.

"Jonathan," she was already begging. "I have to use the bathroom."

"Not yet," I teased. There had been one time I went too far and she pissed herself. I had to get a new mattress, not cheap, and I didn't want a repeat of that, but I loved bringing her as close as I could to pissing herself. It took a lot of concentration on her part, especially if she had a throbbing clit, which was already well on its way to becoming painfully unpleasant. I continued, "God, Emily, I haven't even done anything yet."

I ignored her pleas, she could hold her piss for a while I had learned, and brought the feather down and around her nipples, never touching them, even though I wanted to. She wriggled under it and I continued, down the sides of her body, slowly, methodically, then down her belly around her belly button and right near the start of her pubic hair.

"Aaah!" she groaned, trying to arch her back up and squirmed to push her legs together.

"Emily, Emily, Emily," I tsked. "I am going to have to tie your legs down and you might end up pissing yourself. Is that what you really want?"

"No, no, it isn't, please Jonathan," she was becoming a little breathless. It was just crazy how easily I could get her going. What a long, painful day she had in store for her.

"Then calm down, spread your legs, and relax," I coaxed, knowing full well, my voice only deepened her longing. She was full-out shivering now, but perspiration was building up on her body.

I used the feather for about 20 minutes on her squirming body, forcing her to keep her legs spread. I tickled it down the outside and inside of legs, ignoring her pussy, back up to her stomach, lingering there until she actually screamed out, and then I relented a little, bringing the feather back up under her tits, around them, back up to her collarbone, and then did it all over again and again. I never once touched her nipples or her pussy in any way. I had more devious plans for those, and I smiled. 

"Jonathan, please!!" 

"Please what?" I sat right down on her pelvis and starting to tickle her under her arms. She couldn't move, though she tried, and I knew she was on the verge of pissing. I noticed a slight rash forming around her wrists, which almost made me feel bad for her, except my cock wouldn't let me. Later, I would pamper her. I loved that part, sexually tormenting her to no end, and then pampering her and taking loving care of her. It kept her in such a state of confusion. Mind fucking I called it, and I had a lot of it in store for her. 

"Bathroom or . . . let me come?" The last part she said with such embarrassment, so shyly, I really wanted to cave. I wanted to see that orgasm she loved, the one that felt so good that it actually hurt, as she held back pissing everywhere. But the day was young, and I couldn't do it for her today. I was in too much of a sadistic mood to give her over to her pleasure just yet. She was so fucking sexy, so absolutely gorgeous; I needed to make her want to crawl into me. But I knew I still could get a few more minutes out of her before I let her go to the bathroom.

"Not yet," I said again, and rolled her onto her side. I had a hook above her head that I loved to use when she was on her side. I would tie one leg straight up to it, while she lay on her side, arms pulled tight above her head, the other leg still forced on the bed, under the weight of my leg. I would tickle her brutally this way, especially in and around her stomach and inner thighs, with both of my hands, mercilessly, brushing her pussy and clit occasionally. 

It was so fun to do. Her nipples, so fucking sensitive, would also be tickled. One time, I did this to her for an entire football game that went into overtime. She was screaming out so fucking loud, I had to gag her. I told her if my team won, I would let her come, but if they didn't, I would leave her tied like that for the night. They won, and she lucked out, but I still kept her tied to my bed for the entire night, laughing at her the whole time. I loved lying to her like that. If I weren't so goddamn concerned about my mattress, I'd have done it right then.

She looked up at the ceiling and shuddered. I knew she knew I was thinking about it. I loved to keep her on edge, guessing what I might do to her next.

I let her legs stay though, for the time being, together, and I lightly stroked her pubic hair, touching the very tip of where her pussy started. Right underneath her clit waited, but she was getting no relief right then. "Stay still," I ordered, knowing she wouldn't be able to and that would seal her fate, and I wouldn't let her come.

"Please," she said, garbled, and I almost didn't even understand her.

I removed my hands from the top of her pussy V and went up to her nipples. She could come this way and had the few times I let her. Squeezing her legs together on her side while I fondled her nipples, delicately, painstakingly, she could find release. I decided to give her false hope.

I breathed into the back her neck, sending more chills through her body. "How do you like this?" I asked, lightly feathering her nipples with all my fingers on each hand, pulling them gently into peaks, stopping for a couple seconds, and then doing it again. I pushed my cock into her back harder, and I felt her legs tightening, muscles trying to release an orgasm.

"I like it very much," I could hear her lust and relief in her voice. I loved pulling the rug out from underneath her like that. She was so gullible and in many ways so sweet and innocent. Putty, really, in my hands.

"Good, I'm glad," I sounded sincere.

She moaned, and I continued, and again, if I weren't me, I would have actually felt bad, knowing I was about to shatter her hopes.

"Oh, Jonathan, yes," she purred. She was getting really close, and I needed to be careful. I needed to be sure I didn't accidentally make her come, so I stopped for a minute, and just kissed her neck, her shoulders, her back, and she whimpered.

Her breathing was erratic, so I waited for her to come down a bit, and then I started again. She was close, a little too close, and then I knew she was right there. "You wanna come, baby?" I asked again, complete duplicitous sincerity in my voice.

"Oh, yes, Jonathan, yes, thank you," I could feel her smile on the other side of me. Poor thing. I had put her in such a confused state, sometimes really letting her come, that she still trusted me to fulfill a promise.

"Yes," I breathed again, ensuring she was right there on the edge, trusting me, letting herself go. I really wanted to slam my cock in her dripping pussy, so I had some waiting to do myself, which was making me want to be crueler to her than usual. But I knew I would get my pleasure in just a bit. That I was certain of.

"Oh, yes!" And she tensed and I stopped, flipped her over, spread her legs brutally wide, and grabbed her face between my hands. I wished I had thought to get a bowl of ice cubes to cool her off. Next time, I reminded myself.

"Oh no you don't," I laughed, and she welled up. This part killed me. Her tears. I loved to watch them roll down her red, blotchy face. I stuffed my cock into her mouth, so she couldn't beg or guilt me. I had made the mistake once of that and she won out. She really was hard to resist. God it felt good, and I just smiled and groaned and knew it was going to take me mere seconds to come. I thrust it deep into her open mouth until I exploded, making her swallow every last drop, as she tried not to gag.

She whined as I untied her wrists. They were red, nothing that wouldn't disappear by work Monday. "Go pee," and I slapped her ass as hard as I could as she scooted away into the bathroom. 

I thought about the rest of our morning, and the paintbrushes, and the new agony I would bring to her. I also knew that my timetable told me my mental fucking was supposed to shift into high gear today. Today was the day I would break up with her, and let her suffer without me for a few weeks. The only problem was that I actually didn't know if I could live without her. First time in my life. She was different, as I said. Beyond gorgeous (all my woman were, though no one had a body like hers), she was sweet, truly sweet. She was a kind soul and so fucking smart. She was a brilliant artist, so finely respected in her field. If they only knew! But they would never. We both cared too much about our professions. 

But I had to go through with it. I liked how it made me feel, and I liked my women to suffer. So by the end of the day, I would give her a memorable orgasm, pamper the shit right out of her, and then break her heart . . . I would know it was temporary, but she wouldn't. I could almost feel my cock hardening under the thought of her mental stress.

She anxiously shut the light off in the bathroom and walked back over to the bed, tentatively. I had finally turned on the heat now. She was drying her eyes, and I wanted to console her a little bit, but no yet. Not my style.

"Come here," I said sweetly.

She sighed and pouted and stood in place, but I knew she wanted to come to me. Her eyes told me everything.

"Come here," I said again, playfully. "I will satisfy you by the end of the day, I promise." Of course my promises meant absolutely nothing, and the fact that she didn't get that was astonishing, considering how bright she was. It was her flaw though, her sweetness, she took people at face value, and it's what I loved about her. And I was realizing, much to my dislike, I did love her. It was new to me, and it seemed to make me want to torture her more.

She came over and snuggled in next to me, the sucker, and I stroked her hair and rubbed her wrists. She had fully calmed down, and I needed to get her to simmer again. Wouldn't take much, I knew, but I was starving. "Hungry?" I asked.

"Yes," she responded, eyes telling me the double meaning of her answer.

"Even after all that cum?" I joked.

Again, she just sighed, as I left her there on the bed.

I didn't really have to worry much about her touching herself. She wasn't into that, said it made her feel "dirty." So I left her there untied, for the time being. Soon I'd have her tied up, struggling again. I wanted to paint her body with food and dip fruit into her dripping, wet hole and make her eat it. 


In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 01



I came back with a tray of strawberries, bananas, yogurt, honey, and a bowl of a couple ice cubes. Her eyes widened. "Oh, Jonathan," she said and closed her eyes.

"Lie down, baby, on your back," I was seductive but stern.

She just moaned and did it. 

I tied each wrist above her head to my bed posts and followed suit with her legs. She was a perfect X for me to do as I pleased. "Now, Emily, I want to satisfy you today, but there will be some rules," I smiled broadly.

She couldn't even respond, and I dipped my finger into her hole to find it soaked, already again. She whimpered when I withdrew my touch.

"So, first rule is keeping your moaning to a minimum," I sat on her pelvis to look deeply into her tortured eyes. "I will gag you if I have to. Do you understand?" I asked, starting to play with her nipples so her moaning would start, and I could legitimately punish her. She squirmed.

"Second rule is no squirming," I tried not to chuckle and failed. She was both moaning and squirming. "Emily, you are already breaking both rules," I warned. "And you will need to be punished for that."

"Jonathan, stop, please."

But I didn't. I continued to play with her erect nipples. She couldn't come like this without squeezing her legs, but when I turned my head to look between her thighs, literal streams of juices were flowing down between them. I knew how swollen she was down there, and I decided a good 10 minutes of this cruelty could get me hard again. Never mind she was moaning and squirming and needed to be punished for not following the rules.

When her face was so flushed that she couldn't breathe, I took a little pity on her and got up. Her chest heaved, as she panted and tears filled her eyes. "You hungry?" I asked.

She didn't respond, trying to find her breathing. I began to tickle her clit, only teasing her, not putting nearly enough pressure on it to get her to cum. This got her to thrash so much, I knew I had to stop for fear the restraints would leave too deep of marks, though I loved watching her suffering so much, I thought I might have to jack off to continue. Somehow I controlled myself.

I got up to get the yogurt and paintbrushes. I began first with her swollen clit because she was so close to coming that the cold yogurt would stop it a bit. I slathered it with my hands, all over her pussy and then took a small paintbrush and began tickling her clit with it, covering the swollen nub in the vanilla cream. She writhed. "Please, Jonathan, please!"

I left the yogurt there and stopped touching her. "You are squirming, Emily. You're moaning. And you're breaking my rules, which mean you will not get to come." I couldn't help it. I loved torturing her. I couldn't get enough of it.

She really started to sob now, so I took a break. But before I did, I took an ice cube and played with it around her nipples. I took another ice cube with my other hand and stuck up her pussy and just held it there, as she wriggled like a suffering worm. I would not allow the cube to come out, and with the other hand, I continued to rub the ice cube around her nipples, finally stopping to hold it first on one nipple and then the other. She was begging, really loud, and I was starting to get worried she might actually pass out, her breathing was so frenetic, her wails deep, so after about 5 or so full more minutes, I granted her wish and removed the frozen torture device from her nipples and let the ice cube slip out of her.

I lied next to her trembling body, not touching her at all as she struggled. A part of me thought that maybe I should quickly lick her up, play with my cock and cum all over her, and then leave her there for a few hours, I was so fucking hard. Listening to her pleas, so loud and passionate, made my cock swell and pulsate. So I warned her. "If you can't calm down, Emily, you will force me to leave you here, alone."

She shuddered, and I could hear her counting in her head as she breathed in and out, in counts of five. I didn't console or touch her. She didn't want to be left alone. She hated that, and I did it a lot to her when she was in this frenzied state of wriggling and blubbering.

After about 10 minutes, her sobs stopped, leaving her with just her unsteady breathing. With that, I licked all around her pussy, purposely ignoring her clit, and she really tried not to moan or move. I probably should have rewarded her for that, but I only did so verbally. "Good job, Emily."

She smiled and said, "Thank you. Please, Jonathan."

Once all the yogurt was cleared from around her pussy lips and hole, I took some honey up with the paintbrush and painted little circles around and on her clit. She bucked, trying to push her pussy into the air onto the brush harder, as the feather light touches of the brush drove her insane. She literally started screaming and shrieking at that point, as the paintbrush was only tickling her, not allowing any chance for an orgasm. So, being the cruel bastard I was, I had to stop.

"No!!" She literally screamed so loud, I knew I had to punish her again. 

"Bad girl!" I yelled back at her and slapped her pussy, hard, as tears streamed down her face again. I began to lap up the rest of the sticky honey, which was no easy task, being careful not to let her come. She was so close; one wrong flick of my tongue and she would go over the edge. Successfully cleaning her, without tipping her over, I got out the fruit.

She was begging me uncontrollably at this point, which made me feel a little bad, and I couldn't have that, so I said, "I'll be right back."

I came back with a ball gag and immediately stuffed it in her mouth. The harder my cock, the more depraved I became. Her widening eyes dripped, as her muffled cries begged me to stop. When I would break up with her later, I would imply that it was because she couldn't behave. I couldn't wait for that bomb to drop.

Properly gagged, I began to dip the fruit into her pussy juices and place them back on the tray. One strawberry, dipped, placed back, and then a lick on her nipple. Next, piece of banana, dipped, and a lick on her other nipple. And so I went, listening to her muffle moans and watching her struggle. The girl could not keep still, no matter what the consequence.

"Now, Emily, when all the fruit is properly prepared, you will eat all of it, every last bite. Do you understand?"

She nodded and I decided to be a little more sadistic. "Excuse me? I couldn't hear you. Do you understand?"

Of course she couldn't respond. She was gagged, so I used it to my advantage to punish her again. Her cries were so high-pitched, that even with the gag she was loud.

I wasn't a whip and chains kind of sadist. I didn't like to mark my women. I only liked to torture them sexually. Maybe I was a bit of a wimp in that regard, but blood and markings didn't do it for me. My torture was much more mental.

I sat down on her and grabbed the yogurt and slathered her huge tits. Then I pinched her nipples and held them there. "Cat got your tongue? You going to answer me?" I lost it. I had to laugh. I just couldn't help it, the absurdity of what I was doing to her, the cruelty of it. She couldn't answer me if she tried, and it was hilarious.

I held her nipples tightly, as hard as the yogurt would allow and didn't let go. Man, she was squirming. "I guess you don't want me to let go. I guess you like your nipples to be pinched like this or you would answer me. So naughty," I teased. 

I tried to pinch as hard as I could, as the yogurt became more sticky than slippery. I had a good handle on my little squirmer under me. "Maybe I need to get the nipple clamps. Maybe that would get you to answer me." She hated those with a passion, her nipple were just so sensitive, which of course made me like them ever more, but I wasn't going to use them today. I just wanted her to think about it in her tortured mind. 

I then released the swollen little things, and licked them lightly with my tongue and sucked with my mouth, using my hands to tickle her body. I tickled her stomach in her that special place and even with the restraints, I felt like I was riding a small horse, she was bucking so emphatically. I didn't relent. Too much fun to relent. I tickled and tickled, moving from stomach to under her arms, as I licked and sucked her nipples. Her face was drenched in tears, so red, and sometimes the tickles betrayed her with giggles through the sobs. I worried she might explode, and yet it only encouraged my wickedness.

"Emily, if you refuse to answer me, you will give me no choice but to continue relentlessly. Your choice," and I laughed, really deeply, as I saw something that almost looked like terror in her eyes.

I knew I would need to stop, the poor helpless, tormented thing. One last squeeze on her nipples, harshly, tightly. A nice twist for good measure.

"You think you can behave if I remove the gag, Emily?" 

She shook her head up and down furiously, like a bobble head, which again, just made me laugh to see her desperation.

"Okay. Time to eat." I pinched her nose together so she couldn't breathe for a minute and warned her. "No moaning of any kind, Emily when I remove this gag." And I kept her nose pinched while I undid the gag. She gasped and flailed, inhaling the air I finally gave back to her. "And no begging," I warned and kissed her delicately, lovingly, to confuse her again. Harsh and sweet. That's how I liked to control her.

"Okay. Okay, Jonathan. I promise. Please!" She panted and was really crying again now, and I did feel bad, but loved to confuse her emotions. Even though we both knew that she couldn't have obeyed if she had wanted to, I still wanted her to feel like somehow she had failed, let me down. I loved to play games like that with her.

"Sssh," I said sweetly. "It's okay," I soothed her like I would a child. "But you need to learn to behave."

She controlled her breathing and stopped crying, as I fed her the pussy juice-covered fruit. I hadn't let her eat last night, so I was sure she was famished, even if I forced her to eat herself essentially. 

I spoon fed her some yogurt after she had eaten all of the fruit, without complaint I might add, which surprised me. She must have been really hungry. I had read somewhere that sexual arousal was heightened when the body wasn't overfed, so I liked to keep her hungry, no pun intended! 

Plus, a couple women I dated had gotten fat after we hooked up. Emily's curves were in all the right places; I wanted to make sure she stayed that way. And I had a metabolism that was off the charts. I could pretty much eat anything I wanted and never gain a pound. Never mind I worked out every day. Last night I had eaten pizza right in front of her, while she got a glass of wine and that was it. Of course, I made sure she drank lots of water too, so our morning would be more fun!

And the weird part was that she let me. I mean, I wouldn't be able to do this shit to her if she didn't like it somehow. It drove her crazy; she always felt guilty. I loved watching her struggle to accept that she liked this kind of treatment, the guilt smothering her at times. It was the orgasms she got from me. I could torture her for days and she tolerated it, because her orgasms made it all worthwhile. Hell. I was not the kidnapping or rapist type. I wanted my squirming, helpless women willing. And much to her embarrassment, she was more than willing. Her dripping pussy always betrayed her words. 

I'll never forget that first time I let her come. She was never the same after that. I had her right where I wanted her, and she loved and hated it. That's when I began the real mind fucks. I'd tease her at work, put ridiculous requests upon her, all in the name of letting her come eventually. It was sick. And I loved it. 

The only problem was that I liked her too, on an intellectual level. When I wasn't sexually tormenting her, we actually really liked each other's company. We went to art galleries together, movies, dinner . . . regular dates. We never tired of talking to each other. She was the first woman I didn't tire of after a couple months. We had been dating now for well over 6 months. And I was supposed to have broken up with her months ago.

I let her digest, watching the rise and fall of her chest and decided to go all tender on her for a bit. I kissed her mouth. Her lips were exceptionally plump, always a scarlet red, and she never wore lipstick. She was just simply a natural beauty. I stroked her cheek, and I actually thought I heard her purr. I stopped kissing her and looked into those big, watery eyes of hers. "Do you want me to fuck you, Emily? Or would you rather I let you come with my tongue and fingers?"

Her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head as she let the idea of sweet release wash over her. She breathed, cautiously, she knew I was a teasing bastard, "Don't tease me anymore, please Jonathan." Her voice cracked. She wasn't going to be able to handle much more without really going into a state of insanity, and I knew this from experience. 

One time I teased her for so long that her sobs turned into convulsions, uncontrollable. I came all over her during it; it had turned me on so much to watch her in that state. It was like she wasn't even aware of her own body in those moments. When I finally tipped her over the edge (it literally took one touch on her clit, that's how brutally close I had kept her), it sounded like someone was stabbing her, she was squealing so fucking loud. It actually worried me. I thought the cops might come in to arrest me. 

I had gotten a hotel room for that weekend. I must have come 6 or 7 times during that time, and that may be a low estimate. She came once. That was all I allowed her. It was one of my favorite memories to date. After, she had told me that she thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown if I hadn't finally let her come. That was the meanest I ever was to her. I was testing her limits. And I was hoping to do it again real soon. And I would after the break up. But this day was not the day.

My cock was throbbing, and I wanted to feel her hot pussy, so it was in that moment that I knew I was going to finally let her come. It would be good, anyway, to have the rest of the day to pamper her and mind fuck her in the best possible way. 

I continued to stroke her cheek, whispering softly in her ear. "Sssh, my lovely Emily."

She closed her eyes and moaned, letting my soothing voice relax her and then quickly opened her eyes, fear flooding them. She had moaned, and she panicked that I would punish her. I should have, but my cock needed satiation and we needed to get the day under way. 

I stopped touching her to let her ride out her fear. I felt her body tremble a bit. I could thrust my cock down her throat and fulfill my need. I should have. She deserved it, relaxing like that under my insincere words of encouragement, so I toyed with her, as I debated in my mind what course of action to take. It would be fun to leave her there, tied to my bed for another hour or two.

"Emily?" I questioned, sarcastic teasing lacing my voice. She once told me that it was this voice that scared her the most. She never knew which way I would go. Sometimes I would let my sadistic nature just completely take over, but many times I had also given in to her. It was this uncertainty that kept her nerves on end.

She breathed heavily. "Yes?" She tried to seem calm, but her quivering body and quickened breathing gave her away.

"Did you just moan?" I tried to sound angrier.

She started to cry, again. And she was lucky I actually cared for her. And she was even luckier that my cock wanted her pussy and nothing else.

I slammed into her spread legs and stopped to look into her eyes, holding my cock's head mere centimeters from her dripping pussy. I was going to blow my load fast, so I did this as much to tease her as to control myself. "Do you think you deserve this?" I continued to toy with her. She was no stranger to me doing this to her. I'd slam into her a few times to release my need but then I'd play with my cock to its full pleasure, leaving her there still full of lust and want, only getting a small taste of what she could have. 

"Yes. I do. Please, Jonathan. Please!" she pleaded.

"Okay," I teased. "I will let you have it. Can you try to be quiet?" I knew she couldn't. She knew she couldn't, and I saw her begging eyes, and I laughed. I rolled over on my side and began to lightly stroke her clit. 

"Yes," she begged.

"You like this?" I stopped.

"Yes, please!"

I continued and stopped and then placed my cock between her legs again and slammed it in hard and fast. She was yelling now. "Yes, Jonathan, yes. Please don't stop, please! I'll do anything!" And I knew she would, as I smiled up into her eyes and stopped.

I untied her and flipped her over quickly. "Hands and knees," I ordered. "And no moving or I will not allow you to come. Do you understand what I'm saying?" And I said it in my most intimidating voice, grabbing her tiny waist to pull her ass back against my cock.

"Yes, Jonathan. Yes. I understand," she struggled to answer because I was tickling her waist. She was laugh crying, she was so fucking ticklish, but she wasn't moving much. She wanted this like her life depended on it.

I stopped tickling her waist and positioned the head of my cock against her pussy lips. With one hand I began to tickle her anus, which I knew she hated to admit she loved, and then I lightly brushed her clit, all the while keeping my cock just at the opening of her sopping wet hole. I knew it was taking every ounce of energy she had to stay still. I didn't relent, because I actually wanted her to move, so that I could deny her, or at least make her think I was going to deny her. But I wasn't. I knew I was going to let her explode in only a few minutes.

She stayed still for about 3 full minutes, which in real time seems like nothing, but in sexual time is an eternity. I was actually proud of her. But when I removed my fingers from both her anus and clit, her breathing became erratic. I knew she'd be squirming in about 5 -- 4- 3- 2- 1, and there it was. She was writhing, trying to push my cock into her pussy, but I was strong. I was 6' 2", had the body of a football player, and holding my tiny thing in place took no energy at all on my part. She was really using all her force, her breathing shallow, unhealthy really.

"No! Please! Jonathan!"

And I let her have it. She came fairly easily from behind with no other stimulation, and she exploded on my cock within three thrusts. She screamed my name and told me she loved me and her muscles tightened and contracted over and over on my cock. Her body shuddered and I pulled out and spewed cum all in her hair and just above her ass. I had been pulling her long, chestnut hair, hard, like the reigns of a horse, and now my cum glistened in it. I couldn't wait to wash it out for her, to soothe her in a hot tub, to make her a wonderful dinner, to kiss her. 

She loved the after care. And I liked it more than I cared to admit. But today was different, and she wouldn't be going home happy and in love. Today, she would be going home, gripping her stomach in pain and turmoil, with our break up. I had just come all over her, and my cock could already feel its new arousal. I was a sick and twisted bastard.

She curled up on her side and I lied down behind her, scooping her trembling body into mine as I stroked her head, like a puppy. Her breathing was slowing and her trembling was waning, as I soothed her in her ears. "Sssh," I kept repeating. 

I usually told her I loved her, because I actually did, but today, I needed to start the set up to the break up. I could tell she wanted to hear it, as she shimmied around to face me. She held my face and looked longingly into my eyes and kept repeating, "I love you, Jonathan, I love you." I never tired of hearing her desperate whispers, her tormented confessions of how much she felt for me. "My emotions scare me, Jonathan. What you do to me scares me."




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 01



Usually, I would soothe her and tell her that she had nothing to fear, that I loved her too, that these emotions were felt by me too, but again, not today. I knew how mean I was about to be to her, and yet I couldn't stop it. It was this deep need of mine. The thought of her sadness without me, almost got me hard again, and the thought of how emotionally bare she would be when I took her back, when I touched her again that first time after so many weeks, made me grin so wickedly, I almost started to laugh, but I controlled it. 

"Come. Let me wash you up," and I kissed her, leaving her eyes searching mine, a bit of fright behind them. I knew she was worried. And I loved it.

I ran the water in the tub. I looked back to the bedroom and she was rocking, a sure sign of her unease. My poor, poor thing. What I was about to do to her. But first, I would be gentle, kind, tender, but I would stay a little aloof, building her concern, her fear. She had once told me that she didn't know what she would do if we broke up. I hadn't consoled her then, and watched her shake, knowing full well that I would break up with her someday, if only temporarily. 

If I was honest with myself, I wanted this woman to be mine, pretty much forever. This temporary break up was just a control thing of mine. Worked like a charm every time. But this was the first time that I knew I'd be testing myself as well. Would I be able to stay away from touching her perfect, beautiful skin, her hair, her ass, her tits? Even her full lips? This woman was a real specimen. It was so easy to jack off thinking of her, and that would hopefully get me through. It was not going to be easy. I would probably have to fuck a few retreads, picturing her as I fucked their brains out.

"Come in here," I soothed. Again, she shot me a timid glance. I really did feel bad for her. Her tiny body moved itself along shyly, slowly. She always felt embarrassed naked, even though she had just been naked on my bed for hours, never mind tied naked to it last night. "In the tub you go," I ordered sweetly.

She stepped in, and then I stepped in behind her and sat down. I kissed her head and rubbed her shoulders, and I felt her tension leaving her body, if not begrudgingly. I knew she felt something was not quite right. I wasn't telling her I loved her, and I knew that worried her. I knew I could get her wet and hot again if I wanted to right then. And I could sense that even though she was relaxing, she wasn't truly able to. I had allowed her to come several times in the tub after some of our sessions with nipple and clit stimulation. That girl could pretty much have as many orgasms as I wanted her to have. I wasn't going to do that today. Though it was very tempting, it wouldn't make sense when I broke up with her over dinner.

She turned to face me, her eyes so full of emotion; I honestly thought I might have to look away. She wasn't going to derail me this time. I had pussied out of breaking up with her a couple times before. Even as my cock began to perk up, I pushed the urge down to please her. Her eyes willed me to talk to her, and I think I saw her battling herself not to cry, so endearing, but I turned her back around and just said, "Sssh," knowing it wouldn't be enough for her. I also knew her well enough to know that her pride wouldn't allow her to ask me if I loved her; if she had, I would have had to break up with her right then.

I washed her back, kissed her ears and neck, knowing I was arousing her a bit, but I didn't want to overdo it. Her squirms and moans always got me hard. I did want to touch her pussy a little more and her huge tits that couldn't stay under the water. They floated above the surface like inflated balloons, too huge for anybody's own good. I took the washcloth and washed between her legs, moving up her thighs, and then lightly brushing her pussy with the cloth. I went up to her tits and it took all my will power not to tug and pull on her nipples, still swollen from all the persecution they had endured.

She moaned and my cock hardened, as I knew it would, so I stopped all contact and began to drain the water. Again, she turned to me, consternation in her eyes, but I said nothing. This build up was going very well, and she was going to be crushed. I couldn't wait to see how she would react. If she'd beg, cry, scream. Time would tell.

I gently dried her off with a towel and sat her on the stool. I loved to dry her hair for her. She told me it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. A sadistic romantic! There was an oxymoron for you!

When I finished drying her hair, I decided to turn the aloofness up a notch, really get her uncomfortable and worrying. "I'm going to go workout," and I kissed her chastely. I saw that fear flash in her eyes again. "I have some other things to do as well. I'll be back in time for dinner." And then I left her there. I couldn't stop laughing as I drove to the gym, thinking of how crestfallen she looked when I left. If I had only been able to take a picture of that face in that moment, it would have brought me intense, twisted orgasms.

When I returned, she was curled up on the couch, watching some silly romantic comedy you could almost always find on TV on Sunday and looked up to me for reassurance, something comforting. She wasn't going to get it. Coldly I said, "I'll make dinner, and then I'll drive you home." I heard her draw in a stunned inhale, as if wanting to speak, but then chickening out, as I went into the kitchen to fix dinner. 

Believe it or not, I loved to cook, and I loved to control what my women ate even more, in what order, how much, etc. I loved to tie their hands behind their backs as I fed them. More often than not, they'd be eating and swallowing my cum before they even got one morsel of food in them. 

Emily was no stranger to this. I'm sure her pretty, little, overactive mind was wondering right then if I would torture her that way. Let's face it: I had stopped to have a hearty lunch, and my poor doe had had some fruit and yogurt. She never even thought about rummaging through my kitchen for food. She once told me that without my express permission, she wouldn't even think of invading my cabinets. She had real manners this one, ethics.

Tonight, though, I would torture her in a far more sadistic way. I would ignore her, and I would let her get her own portion, and feed herself. She would be squirming for a totally different reason. "Dinner's ready!" I called.

She loved seafood, and I made a delicious seafood pasta dish, bathed in butter and garlic. She must have been starving. I had licked buttery meals off her body a hundred times, and I knew she was craving that right now. I brought the bowl of pasta to the table and said blankly, "Help yourself," and I could see trepidation and hesitation in her eyes. I knew she was about to bawl her eyes out. Soon. I thought. Very soon. 

I ate heartily, not bothering to talk to her, and I could see how hard it was for her to swallow her food, when she should have been scoffing it like an animal. She finally spoke. "Jonathan? What's wrong? You're scaring me."

Here it was. No turning back. "Emily," I spoke slowly, like it was paining me to speak. "I think it's time we go our separate ways."

God I didn't expect her to start crying right then. But she lost it. I mean full-out sobbing, heaving, and convulsions. She couldn't talk. She couldn't even get out one word, and honestly, I almost just starting laughing. It was so real, so visceral for her; she started to choke a little on her tears. "I don't feel good," she said and ran into the bathroom we had just sat in together. 

I heard her wrenching up the little food she had just managed to get down and ran into the living room for fear I would laugh uncontrollably. I was a sick fuck. I knew it. My cock was hard as a rock watching her in this pain, and I almost wanted to fuck her one last time to really fuck with her mind. I was not leaving it off the table entirely.

She came back from the bathroom, and I had already repositioned myself at the table. She looked into my eyes, and then I saw something I couldn't believe, anger. "Are you fucking laughing at me, you sick bastard?"

Oh shit! Could she see the smile behind my eyes? I knew I wasn't outwardly smiling. I acted appalled, angry. "What? You can't be serious?"

And just like that, I had her again. Bawling her eyes out, all traces of anger replaced with anguish. She looked up again, "Why are you doing this? What happened? Please don't do this. Tell me what . . . " she attempted to talk, unsuccessfully. 

"Emily, it's just time. I'm sorry. Let me take you home." I didn't want to give her much closure; her torment over the next couple weeks would be delicious. Plus, there was no reason. What was I going to say? I'm just fucking with you? I like to watch you suffer? 

I got up, grabbed her things and my keys, and waited for her in the car, humming a tune that always put me in a good mood.

She came into the car, her face so swollen from tears, I almost wanted to kiss them and stop this for her, almost, but not enough to make me do it. I started up the car immediately. I wasn't an actor, so the sooner I got her home, the sooner I could start the vicious torment for duration of our break up. 

I envisioned the game playing out something like this. First I would start by no contact at all; then I would stake out where she'd be occasionally and let her see me with another girl, and then I'd start to leave her caring messages, make her think of me, ask her out for dinner just to check on her, teasing her sexually in a way that she wouldn't know was on purpose, and then somehow, I'd get her to come to my house, begging, and I'd tie her up, torture her mercilessly, give her earth-shattering orgasms, and let her back into my life. I simply couldn't wait. Oh the glory of the mind fuck!

She grabbed my hand and pleaded. "Jonathan. Please. I don't understand. I'm sick. Please. Tell me what happened. Please," she was trying so hard not to cry. Her whole body quaked beside me.

"There are too many things. I just don't think you can handle me, Emily." I wanted to guilt her.

"I love you, Jonathan, please. What do you mean? My moaning? My squirming? Is that what you mean? That I can't follow your requests?" I could feel her guilt kicking in; her voice was shaking and getting high.

"Emily. No more. It's just time," and I just let her cry beside me, without consoling her at all, quivering.

She wouldn't get out of the car, and I found it amusing. "I can't do this," she whispered.

So, being the gentlemen I was, I got out, went over to the side of her door, opened it, pulled her out, shut the door, and stood next to her. I grabbed her head, stuck my tongue down her throat, released her panting, got into my side of the car, and left her there. 

I finally let out my laugh as I peeled away down the road. I didn't even look back. I couldn't wait for the next two weeks . . . and I particularly couldn't wait to have her back in my bed, under my thumb, for years to come.



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 02



I was taking a two-week vacation, just so I could focus on Emily. I still had a key to her apartment, so I planned on getting myself in there while she was at work, fucking with her some more, leaving a shirt of mine, spraying some of my cologne under her pillow. Her senses were seriously astute, and I knew the smells would remind her of me, exactly what I wanted. 

After I had left her that night, she called my cell phone like fifty times, leaving me messages about closure, and could we just talk, and all that kind of bullshit that goes along with an unforeseen break up. Of course I wasn't going to give her any satisfaction. I ignored her calls altogether, thinking that in a couple of days, I'd maybe pick up to at least let her hear my voice. Truth be told, I'd probably be wanting to hear her voice by then too. She had this raspy kind of thing going on and spoke really softly. It was sexy as hell, pretty much no different than the rest of her. I always joked that if her art career and teaching didn't pan out, that she could always find a job giving telephone sex.

One of the things I loved about Emily was that she had no idea just how sexy she was. It was that innocent thing. She'd be in fucking sweatpants or something, just a normal t-shirt, and her body just made me fucking nuts. When we'd go out in public, men stared, until I made eye contact with them, like back the fuck off, and they would control themselves. She was just plain gorgeous, and she didn't even try. The more she tried to hide her body, the more people wanted to look. It was always right there, brimming underneath her clothes. 

By Day Four into my devious plan, Emily's calls were dying down, and as I had thought, I was kind of craving her. She had been calling me relentlessly. I knew that the next time she called, I would pick it up, start our slow climb back together. Bingo, just about 3:30, my cell rang. She must have been heading back home from the college.

"Hi," I picked up on the third ring.

"Hi," she breathed. I could hear relief in her voice.

"How are you?" I filled the silence.

"Not good," she said matter-of-factly, not a shred of pride evident. I could feel my cock swelling. "How are you?"

I paused. How was I? Good question. I was doing pretty well, plan in place, riding it out as predicted. But it had only been four days, not my two weeks I had envisioned, and already, I wanted to have her back in my bed. "Okay," I didn't lie.

She sighed, and paused. "I wanted to remind you that my art show is tomorrow night. You think you might still want to come?" I could tell she was struggling to ask, like bracing herself for my answer of denial.

Why not? I thought to myself. Good place to tease her. "I'd love to," I said, way too sweetly. Most people would be thinking that I was so full of shit. But not Emily.

"Really? Really, Jonathan?" So much fucking hope in those three words. I had to stifle laughing out loud.

"Of course. You know I love your work." Again, it was like I had taken some truth serum or something. I did love her work. It was risqué and sexy and thought provoking. I knew she had been working on it for months. I had forgotten it was this week. I was a bastard to choose this week to break up with her, but hey, what do they say about the tortured artist? Her work would probably be the best it had ever been.

"I dedicated the show to you," she almost whispered it. "I had worked out all the logistics and put in the copy for the program before our . . . " I could tell she was about to cry . . . "our, break up."

"Send me the details over email, and I'll be there! Gotta run, Emily. Take care." 

"Jonathan?" 

But I hung up. I knew she was going to cry. Best to leave her alone with that, and I had to take care of my swollen cock, which I did quickly and efficiently, Mary Palm style.

The next day, I snuck into her place. Holy shit. The place was in shambles. When I went into her bedroom, tissues were everywhere: on the bed, all over the floor. Jesus, the poor thing. On her night stand was a journal of some sort. I couldn't resist, so I opened it. All kinds of sketches, of her, tied up, pencil sketches, some words, poetry underneath the drawings. 

One was a pencil sketch of an outline of a woman, hands tied over her head, on her side. It was a front angle, the outline of the breasts, truly exaggerating how much larger they were from the rest of the body. The detail on the woman's face, though blurred slightly on purpose, showed her emotion. It was a line between pain and lust. How brilliant Emily was to be able to show this through art. It read underneath: Swollen in lust, betrayed by emotion, needing it back. I would have just written: Emily's torment.

Jesus! Too fucking easy. I jacked off to the pictures in the journal, thinking of smearing it onto her pillow, but even I thought that was too much. Instead, I came to do what I intended. I sprayed my cologne--the cologne she loved, the cologne she had picked out for me, the cologne where she would moan my name and say, "Oh, Jonathan, you smell so good"—in the room, under her pillow, and left one of my white t-shirts behind, near the row of shoes I knew she would choose from tonight to wear. She wouldn't be able to miss it.

I arrived at her art show, a little late, hoping it would make her uncomfortable to wonder if I were truly coming. Our eyes met from across the gallery, her delicate figure pressed into a black dress that made me actually want to take her out to my car and fuck her right then. She never showed cleavage, too self-conscious, and I loved that. But tonight, the entire back of the dress came down in an open V, exposing her entire milky back for the wanton touch. The front was plain, except for a tiny red belt that cinched her waist in and then fell into a full skirt, just above her knee. She looked fucking sexy, her hair in a loose bun, some pieces falling out, and I didn't know if she did this on purpose to torture me for a change, or if it was just Emily, naïve, innocent, and so unaware of her sexual desirability. 

She held a white wine in her glass, and even from a distance I could feel her trembling body just looking at me, but I gave her credit, she remained steadfast in place, talking to a small group of three women, next to a large canvas she had painted. 

I needed to get her out of my head, and I grabbed a wine myself from the waitress's tray walking by, grabbed a handful of stuffed mushrooms, and tried to tell myself to focus on the art, and then I casually walked over to a large portrait that was garnering much debate. 

I found myself standing in front of the sketch I had found in Emily's bedroom, larger, life-like, sexual lust and torment more clearly defined in the taut position the woman was forced into through bondage. While still in muted tones, it looked like she had used charcoal, the work was beyond intense. People mulled about discussing its true meaning, whether it was literal or metaphorical. 

My cock started to swell, knowing how true to life this portrait really was. Suddenly, from behind, Emily wrapped her arms around my waist, startling me. It took guts, and I couldn't believe she was doing it. 

"Do you like it?" she whispered from behind me, as I tried to peel her arms off of me to turn to face her.

I couldn't contain my smile. And before I could say anything, she kissed me, hard, long, as if she had been saving up for months, and it had only been about a week. Making her wait to be back in bed with me was a delicious thought. I pushed her away. I couldn't give in this soon. I needed to see her squirm a little bit. "Is that you, Emily?" I teased, whispering, breathily in her ear, full well knowing it was, nodding up to the drawing.

I could tell my rejection of her flustered her a bit, and she tried to gain her composure back. "Yes, of course it is. But only you and I know that." She backed away a little, feeling embarrassed at her bold actions only a few moments before.

As I looked more closely at the artwork, the title was simple and it read: LOVE. I looked back into her suffering eyes, and I wanted to scoop her up into my arms and congratulate her, tell her I loved her, but I couldn't deny the joy I was getting from seeing her like this, wanting me, craving my touch. Soon, I promised myself. All good things to those who wait.

I got excruciatingly close to her, so close I could feel that she was holding her breath. I touched her cheek, and bent down to whisper in her ear again. She still wasn't breathing. "It's beautiful, Emily, just like you." I removed my fingers from her cheek and ran a sole finger from the back of her neck to the bottom of her back, in that indentation I loved, and her body involuntarily shivered. Intimidatingly, I said, sternly, "This dress sends mixed messages, Emily." As I walked away from her, I could hear her exhale, and I chuckled silently to myself. 

Within minutes, she had a swarm of admirers around her again, and I snuck out. I needed to get the fuck out of there before I did something stupid. I decided to leave her a message on her cell. "Sorry I had to leave early. Thank you for inviting me. Your show was a huge success. I am proud of you." 

I was. It was true. And yet, those fucking doe eyes of her, lust-filled, longing for me, was what I really remembered, and I thought I should probably get laid tonight before I caved. Instead, I took care of it myself, again. Actually caring for someone, sucked.

When I woke up the next morning, Emily had left me a message. "Could we please talk? I want to offer you my painting, the one you so admired. I'd like you to have it."

God she was fucking sweet. I tormented and tortured her, and she wanted to give me a gift. I am sure many of the men at the gallery last night would have paid a lot of money for that piece. In fact, many of her pieces had "Sold" signs under them. This one mustn't have been for sale, clearly. At the end of the message, she added, "Oh, and I think you left a shirt here a few weeks ago. I found it in my closet." She sighed and hung up. I didn't return her call. I hoped that shirt was driving her crazy.

When Monday rolled around, I called a chick I banged before I met Emily. Yeah I was a prick, but I was a faithful prick, even during our "break up," I didn't sleep with anyone. She answered on the first ring.

"Johnny? Hi!" She was eager, always a little too eager to please me, but I knew she would make the perfect companion today as I "ran into" Emily.

"Hi Steph. You busy today? I've been thinking about you lately. Thought you might want to do lunch?" 

Stephanie was a rich kid, had been spoiled by her parents all through college, and never had to work a day in her life. She ran a small jewelry shop three days a week, and then did who knows what with the rest of her mindless, insipid time. So different from Emily. "I could close the store for a couple hours. What did you have in mind, you kinky bastard!"

She was a real piece of work. I toyed, "Lunch, actually, and then, hmmm, we'll have to see." I had no intention of touching her in any sexual way, but I knew she wanted to, so why not lead her on and have her serve my purpose: getting Emily ruefully jealous. She was everything Emily wasn't: blonde, blue eyes, all ass and no tits, and woefully dumb. But she could suck a dick like no other. That was the only reason I kept her around as long as I did.

"I'd love to! Where? When?"

I knew Emily went to the Strip for lunch every Monday with her coworkers, kind of a Monday blues kind of tradition. I would just have to figure out which joint they were going to. I'd have to trail her and then call Stephanie somehow.

"Not sure. Somewhere down the Strip. I have some errands. Can I text 15 minutes before we meet?"

"Absolutely. Can't wait to see you. It's been so long."

I went to the college parking lot and waited for over an hour before she walked out with her small group, Kevin in the group. I had kind of forbidden her to hang out with that dick. Mr. English professor, all poetic and romantic and shit, spewing love poetry, like fucking Shakespeare or E.E. Cummings or something, writing his own shit and sharing it with her. I knew he wanted her, wanted her bad. She didn't think so, but I found it quite interesting that the moment we broke up she was saddling up right beside him. That would cost her a little in penance when I got her back where she belonged.

I trailed them, like Magnum PI for Christ's sakes, saw them walk into a sushi place, and texted Steph: "Sakuro. See you in 10."

I sat down in the front, near a window, Emily and her gang tucked away in the back. I didn't want her to see me until she left. Hopefully, she would be devastated a bit. After seeing her with Kevin, I was hoping it would crush her. 

Stephanie bounded in. Holy shit! Did she turn heads! I literally thought some of the men would have to pick their tongues up off the floor, as if made of cement. I was one such man not too long ago, but that was before I met Emily and actually fell in love. But close up, she really wasn't all that great, wore too much make up, and again, was so vapid, she didn't even know that Alaska and Hawaii were US states. No shit. 

She sat down, skirt inching up so high, I thought I'd get a peep show, and my cock could certainly use it. But I needed to focus on the task at hand. "Hi," I said with my best seductive smile. "Don't you look . . . enticing." Beautiful. Gorgeous. Not quite the right words. Slutty, yes, but I was trying to work my magic here.

"Oh, Johnny, I've missed you and our fun," she purred, leaning in to kiss me. I turned my cheek. I really had no interest in her, even though I was a red-blooded, horny, self-deprived man, I still didn't want her. Don't get me wrong. We had some spirited times. She was sicker than I was and loved to be edged on the verge of orgasms for days. One time, she said she had read about some women whose men were keeping them in a constant state of orgasm denial, and I quote, "Like infinitely, like forever. How cruel would that be?" But she beamed, as if hopeful. 

But no. Like I said, too eager. I liked my women willing, yes, but I also liked my sexual torment and torture to be worth something, to be on my terms. I wanted them to suffer until I decided to give in; I was the one in control, always. I was most turned on when I kept them on edge in every way, never letting them figure out my twisted thought schemes and mind. Some days or even weeks I was in a more sadistic mood than others. There was no road map for my behavior. Believe me, enough psychoanalysts had tried to figure me out. I couldn't figure myself out. It was a deep-seated part of me, one that I learned to accept and embrace quite a long time ago. No sense in going through life unfulfilled in any way, mentally, sexually, physically. It didn't make sense to hold back, especially with a willing victim.

Emily was the perfect blend for me. She couldn't handle the torment mentally and certainly not physically, yet her body screamed for more, betraying her. A sort of love/hate relationship with her feelings and her body's ultimate reaction to the sadistic charms I had to offer. Dripping wet in denial, was how I often described her. When I would finally let her come, release her from my sexual teasing and torture, she would blubber how she had never felt such powerful emotions. Her mind was exactly how I needed it to be, and much to her chagrin, it was right where she wanted it too.

Nope. I liked my women begging for real, on the verge of mental crucifixion. That was my bread and butter, and to hear a woman beg for me to tease or torture her more was a complete turn off. I needed the opposite. I needed them to beg me to stop and to really mean it. Because, I had learned from experience that complete mind control was only a flick away. And I fucked with Emily's mind as much as I could. A huge smile spread across my face just thinking about it.

"You look well. How's the jewelry business?" I tried to make small talk with Stephanie, until Emily would be forced to walk right by my blonde bimbo of a bombshell and me.

She rattled on. Something about a month here, a month there, a trip to the Cayman Islands, blah, blah, blah, and then I saw Emily coming, led by Kevin. I was starting to steam up by the shit-eating grin that pompous bastard always wore on his face, and Emily froze, as I put all my attention on Stephanie, leaning in close to her face.

I wasn't sure if Emily was going to actually stop, and I was trying to make it look as if I didn't even see her. It was dickhead Kevin who spoke up. "Hey, Emily, isn't that your friend, Jonathan?" 

Friend! Ha. Ya right. Keep telling yourself that Mr. PhD. Bury your nose in another fucking fantasy book. She tapped me from behind on the shoulder. "Hi, Jonathan." I saw her eyes watering up a bit, as she bit her lower lip. If she bit any harder, she would have drawn blood. I wish I were biting that lip.

I acted surprised, feigning embarrassment. "Oh, hi, Emily. Shouldn't you be teaching?" I tried to make it sound like how could I have fucked this up, that of course I would think she'd be teaching at this hour.

"Actually, we just got a late start today. Kevin read some poetry in the quad, and I pieced together a little art exhibit, with some of my work from the art show the other night. I haven't heard from you about the portrait. Let me know if you want it." 

"Of course, Emily, I've just been busy. I will be in touch," and I drew my finger along my lower lip, slowly, a private joke between us. In public sometimes, I would use that as a signal that I was dying to touch her real lips, her pussy.

She couldn't speak, and I saw her try to breath. Her breathing was shallow. She gripped the table to steady herself, and I instinctually stood up, becoming a little nervous that she might actually pass out, as all her natural color drained from her face. 

Jesus. Maybe I was going a little too far, even though from the moment I looked into her dark eyes, I could feel my cock perking right up. Was I torturing myself or her? Was I so sadistic that I was sadistic to my own self? I had to wonder that in this situation. Usually, I'd break it off with a woman, and then either say fuck it, and never see her again, or arrange for a make-up sex session that was usually the best sex of my life, or stick it out a little longer, until I was bored and then done with her completely.

I grabbed her by the elbow. "Emily, are you okay?"

Her eyes were pleading, passionate pieces of coal, and she shook her head, no. She couldn't even fake it. And then she lost it. She just started to cry, and I caught her in an embrace.

Kevin swooped in, probably having no idea what the fuck was wrong or why she was acting like this. Emily was very private in that way. He shot a glance at me, like what should I do, and in that moment, I fucked up and overreacted. "I've got it Kevin. You guys go along. I'll take Emily home."

She literally stuffed her face into my shoulder and sobbed. I really knew right then and there, that I was going to take her home and fuck her brains out. My cock was on fire from her torment, but believe it or not, my heart felt bad. I looked at Stephanie and mouthed, "Raincheck. So sorry," and she just shook her head in understanding, but slightly confused, as I gave her a couple $20's for the lunch.

I told Emily to breathe on the ride home and to lay her head on my lap. I stroked her hair. She was calmer now, stifling small cries, the hyperventilation subsiding. I loved to hear her like this during our sexual adventures, when I'd tie her up. It was so strange how almost completely inseparable these two feelings were, sexual lust and longing sadness, so intertwined, so full of passion and emotion. Oh. The sex was going to be amazing. And I was afraid she'd feel my erection under her head, as I tried to calm myself down for different reasons.




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 02



We entered my house, and I immediately made a fire for her, but I wasn't going to be able to wait too long before I slammed into her. We could talk after, make up, and then we could go back to normal, tormented, sex in bondage. I had plans for an exceptionally long session, a weekend of edging her and teasing her, but first thing was first. I needed some relief. 

If I was being honest, I needed her. Fuck it; I might as well be completely honest. I was having trouble working through these new feelings. I had never really felt attached to any woman beyond sex. I even fantasized about marrying this one. I was really becoming a pussy. It made me a little angry, but I tried to squelch it.

"Here. Sit down. You want something? I know it's the middle of the day, but you want a glass of wine? Some brandy? At least a glass of water?"

"Yes. Brandy would be great." She paused. "Jonathan, I'm so sorry. I will go as soon as I'm done drinking that. I don't know what happened back there. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience."

"Emily, it's okay. You can stay as long as you want," and I walked out of the room, into the dining room, over to my liquor cabinet. I had almost confessed that I missed her. Couldn't allow myself to do that.

I came back with two glasses of brandy and a glass of water. I sat ever-so-closely to her and began to remove her adorable, button-down, pink sweater. "Drink your water first," I instructed. 

"Jonathan, no," she protested. "Leave on my sweater."

"I am just helping you to get comfortable," I lied. If she hadn't been on the verge of passing out at the restaurant, I would have made her strip her clothes off right then. All in due time.

She shook slightly and just sat perfectly still beside me. I could feel her sexual tension building. I knew her body like my own. She wanted me, but I needed to be a little more delicate than usual. 

"Are you scared, Emily? Cold?" Is there a reason why you're shivering?" I tried to sound sincere, even though I wanted to chuckle. I could take full advantage of her if I wanted to. And I wanted to.

She blurted, "Jonathan. I've missed you. Yes, I'm scared. Yes, I'm cold, inside, without you. I don't know what happened between us, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I just don't understand. Please help me to understand." She was rambling, getting herself worked up again.

"Sssh," I said and began to kiss her. God I loved this shit. I was sick and unscrupulous, and I knew it. But I made no apologies about it. It turned me on to know how much she wanted me, needed me, craved me. I was a bastard, but she needed to feel the excitement, the turmoil, the passion. In that moment I wanted to feel her slit to see how aroused she was, even in her anguish. I knew she'd be dripping.

She kissed me back in such desperation, it took all of my energy for me to stifle my chuckles, and I stopped her for a moment and said, "Take off your pants."

She panted and stared into my sadistic, blue eyes. She was looking for something. Tenderness? Love? Trust? I'm not sure if she saw any of those, but I know that she saw unapologetic lust staring her down, unflinching and not taking no for an answer. "Jonathan, who was the girl you were with today? Does she mean anything to you?"

I chose not to answer. Let her imagination fill in the blanks. I never knew if I'd need to use Stephanie again.

"Do you still love me, Jonathan?" she tried a different tact, breathing heavily, eyes welling up with fear. 

I actually did. Never stopped. Knew it was all a sadistic game for me, a total mind fuck, a game to get me right where I was, right here, hard as a rock. I wanted to dive deeper into her psyche, to make her addicted to me in an unsettling way. But I didn't lie as I said, "I never stopped loving you, Emily." 

I kissed her gently. And then I grabbed her face and said, "Pants. Now," in a voice that said, if you don't do this right now, you will regret it.

She trembled. I loved her involuntary reactions to me. And she fumbled to take off her pants. I stared down at her beautiful legs, and laid her down on her back on my couch. I lied on top of her, putting my full weight on her. She moaned. Oh. I had missed that sound. I kissed her neck and chin and then her lips. I kissed her ears and her cheeks, licking up her salted tears, as she wiggled under me. I let her feel how hard my cock was, as I grinded against her underwear through my jeans.

I stood up and commanded she follow suit, by making a come here gesture with my pointer finger. She stood up in front of me. 

I slowly, painstakingly removed her top, a white, see-through button-down blouse, revealing a tight-fitted bra that matched her black, lace panties. She tried to control her moaning, her squirming, a direct response to the longing she felt for me because of the break up. I felt bad, a little, but it was so endearing, so sweet, her attempts to do as she thought I pleased. I could see her eyes trying to question me; I knew she was struggling with her fear to let go, her emotional pull so strong she couldn't control it. She wanted reassurance so desperately. Oh. My Emily, my sweet, tantalizing Emily.

I made her stand there, in front of me with in her bra and panties. I wanted to savor looking at her body. Her tits were just as I had envisioned them as I jacked off to them all week in my mind. Huge, her nipples engorged through the lace fabric, and ready to be touched.

"Go stand in front of the fire, back to me," I smiled wickedly at how easy it was.

I stood behind her and started to kiss her neck, as her chest heaved up and down from desire, from nerves. My hands traveled along her bra, tickling her nipples with my pointer fingers simultaneously, over the fabric, as her head tilted back onto my shoulder. "Jonathan," she moaned, and then spun around. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked. What on earth could she be apologizing for? But I let it linger in the air. "Turn around. Don't turn around unless I ask you to, Emily," I warned.

Her breathing picked up again, as I trailed my hands down her stomach, taking my sweet time, tortuously slow, as I made my way towards her pussy. 

"Aaah!" she spilled out between her lips, and I felt her tense. She was so trained, thinking I would stop. Not today. I wanted her bad. And I was going to have her. I would have the next weekend to really play with her, cruelly, teasingly, selfishly. 

But I didn't reassure her. 

I positioned a finger at the top of her pussy and held it there, not moving a muscle. She followed suit, panting a bit erratically. "Sssh," I whispered behind her ear. "Would you like me to move my finger?"

She hesitated, and I took my finger away from her body. She crumpled slightly. 

"Stand up straight, Emily," I ordered. "What do you want?"

I lightly stroked her pussy through her underwear, a bit shocked at how brutally wet they were. I smiled broadly. I used all of my fingers to tickle over her underwear, and she really started to squirm. Some habits die hard. Emily would never be able to control her movements.

"Do I need to tie you down, Emily?" I teased. My cock was never going to wait that long, but she didn't need to know that. I relented for three seconds and then began again.

"Fuck me, Jonathan, please, fuck me."

"Take off your panties and bend over."

She did in record time.

"Touch your toes and spread your legs," and I smacked her ass, first on the right cheek, and then on the left cheek. Then I smacked inside each of her thighs. Finally, I alternated between touching her slit, from her clit all the way up to her puckered little asshole, to slapping her pussy. "Don't you dare move. I did not appreciate your date with Kevin today. You will pay for that at some point very soon." And she would. But I knew it wouldn't be now.

I continued slapping her, stinging her skin, listening to her agonized breathing. After about 10 minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I slammed my cock into her hot, slippery hole, over and over, rubbing her clit the way I knew she liked. She yelled out my name and told me she loved me, and I spewed cum all over her ass and back, her long, dark curls dancing around in it. I kept my fingers on her clit as she spasms a few more times, completely bent over, touching the floor. 

She was convulsing in orgasms at this point and said hysterically, "Please don't ever leave me again. Please, Jonathan. I love you. Please!"

I said nothing but when her pleasure subsided, I picked her up, yup, that was the fucking romantic I was, and carried her into my bedroom. She still had on her sexy bra as I put her on my bed. She was crying. I sat next to her.

"Lie down. Breathe, Emily."

She complied and lied down on her back, and I lied down next to her. She looked up at the hook and rope and restraints and all the other paraphernalia I always kept in my room, on my bed, available at a moment's notice. I smiled, thinking about how I couldn't wait to have her in some of them.

She drew herself into a ball facing me and hesitated to look up into my eyes. I lied on my side, looking at her intently. She looked a bit like a lost puppy.

I could tell she wanted to talk, and I saw her struggle to find the courage. It was tempting to ask her to leave, but having her back in my bed, smelling her hair and watching her tits squeezed into that lace bra, I knew my latest mind fuck would have to end and a new begin. "Do you want me back? How can we make this work?" she asked, trying to seem calm, in control of her emotions, but those fucking emotional eyes of her. They were so easy to read.

I wanted to make her squirm, so I just started to lightly kiss her face and her lips. I didn't want to let her fall into that sense of relief just yet. The fact that she gave herself over to me like that, without any promises, showed what a vulnerable state she was in. Regardless of Emily's sexy good looks, she had only been with three other men, and none of them had ever given her an orgasm, a confession she probably shouldn't have told me, but she simply had no idea I would use that information against her. 

She tucked herself into a tighter ball, fighting what appeared to be real physical pain. I stroked her back, lingering on her lower back, tickling the top of her ass crack, as she swayed a bit, back and forth, hoping I'd answer her questions or not kick her out. She had no idea which way I would go, and I loved knowing that. Keeping her on the edge was undoubtedly my favorite past-time. I grinned at the irony.

If she knew how I really felt, how fucking addicted I was to her. How I just wanted to lock her to my bed and never let her leave again. If I truly fulfilled my sadistic fantasies, Emily would have become my sex slave a long time ago. She was getting the better deal; she just didn't know it.

"Come on," I said, and unbent her body. 

"Do you want me to leave?" She couldn't even look at me, her trembling body forcing itself to breath. She seemed skinnier at the waist in the short time we had been apart. I liked that. Her tits and ass were like two distinct and separate entities of pure sexuality.

"I don't want you to leave," I finally said, putting her out of her misery. "But I should probably take you home so you can rest and go back to work tomorrow."

"Will stay there with me? Even just for a little while?" She was trying not to plead but was failing miserably.

"We'll see," I couldn't help but continue to fuck with her. But I would stay. I wanted to be with her. 

"My house is a mess," she said a bit humiliated. "I haven't exactly been myself this last week and a half."

I wanted to say, oh, I know, but I said, "I don't care about that. Come on. Up you go."

"Will you pack a bag? Sleepover?" She implored, not even trying to mask it anymore.

"Doubtful. But I do want to make you an offer."

"Yes. Anything."

"Spend the entire weekend with me?"

"What about this week? Will I see you? Do you want to see me?"

"I need to think," I lied. "But I would love to spend a weekend with you." I already had my devilish plans spinning in my mind. I could see her tied up and helpless, begging to come, and I had to shift my cock under my briefs to remain in control.

"I would spend an eternity with you if you asked me."

"Careful what you wish for," I winked. "Get dressed. Let's go. You have the rest of the week to think about all the things I'm going to do to your body." And your mind, I said to myself.

She dressed as I watched. "Don't watch," she scolded. I loved how I had just had her bent over, playing tongue football with her toes, and now she got all shy and conservative.

"I will not and you know it." I sat firmly on the bed, embarrassing her with my stare as much as I could. I watched her wince a little as she lifted her drenched panties back on. I laughed out loud.

"Very funny," she laughed too.

"You're the type of sight, I could never tire of, Emily."

She looked at me confused. "Jonathan, why did you break up with me? I'm scared you're going to do it again. Are you?"

The chick was insightful, I couldn't deny that. "No, Emily. I guess I made a mistake. I was concerned I was getting too intense for you." God I could really fucking lie. "Was I, Emily?"

She blushed. I wanted her to admit that she loved it, that she didn't want to love it, but she did. Her vulnerability, her helplessness, it gave her incredible orgasms. I wanted her to say it. I loved my ego to be stroked, and I loved to watch her humiliation.

"I love what you do to me. It makes me feel so . . . alive, but . . . "

There were no buts, she could tell herself whatever she wanted, "But what Emily?"

"The devastation I felt when you broke up with me makes me question if it's worth it. I realized that sometimes the way you torment me sexually, tease me, is close to that same feeling of devastation, if that even makes sense. I feel like maybe something's wrong with me, like I'm unnatural or something." 

She looked up to me for encouragement, and I nodded. 

"When you let me come, I literally feel like I have entered a state of Nirvana, but when you're not letting me, I feel like I'm in Hell. I've gotten to the point where I can't have one without the other . . . what I mean is that I don't want one without the other, though I don't feel that way during the . . . the torment."

I felt like she was putting into words exactly how I felt about it and her. She was so much more pensive, introspective than me. I just needed to watch her suffer to get off; my reasoning was simple. She almost couldn't tolerate it, and yet also needed it in the end. Maybe I would be able to take her farther than I ever had before. Torture her sexually the way I really liked to. This weekend. My cock was rock hard again.

I grabbed her before she could finish getting dressed. "Suck me," I ordered. "Don't stop until I come again." I knew that could take a while, and I didn't care. I had a lot of imagery floating around in my perverted head to enjoy. "On your knees." 

She got down on her knees and starting to lick my cock, slowly, beautifully, licking the tip of my head, with flicks and then licking all down and around. I had trained her well to suck my cock. When I first met her, she was adequate, but needed a few tips. 

That last time I took her for a weekend of torment did the trick. As I had said, I had come many times, and she had done it for me through her mouth most times. Playing with her drenched pussy and clit, not letting her come, got her really good while she sucked me off. My false promises of letting her release, put her cock- sucking skills into the Hall of Fame before the weekend was out. I'd promise to let her come if she continued, but then I'd say, "I never said when I'd let you come! I'm sure I'll let you come eventually, at some point. Good thing you're an art professor and not a lawyer," I would tease.

She began to deepen her sucking, taking more and more of my cock into her mouth, down her throat and back up. She was groaning a bit, at times stifling a gag when I pushed her head down deeply. "Take your tits out of that bra." I wanted to see her nipples. I could see how hard they were through the bra, and now I wanted a full view while she sucked me off to completion. I couldn't help but pinch her nipples.

She licked and sucked and used her teeth a little in the right places and I started to build. "Swallow every last drop, Emily. I don't want to have to punish you tonight, so soon after our make-up."

"Yes! Come for me," she said so sweetly, so sexily.

And I blew my load, gripping her head tightly.

When I was drained, I told her she could get up.

"I love you," she said to me, and wrapped her arms around me, snuggling into my shoulders. 

I whispered into her ear, "I love you too." And I knew I had to really get myself back in control next weekend or I feared I would be pussy-whipped for life. "Let me take you home."

"Okay. Will you stay?"

I wanted to be icky sweet this week, so I really laid it on thick. "Not tonight. I'm afraid of what I may do to you. I will save that for the weekend. Would you like to know what I have in store for you Emily?"

"Yes," she said again, and let out such an exhale, it felt like two weeks' worth of air.

"Hmmm. I just might need to stay over then, so that I can give you enough details."

"Oh, yes, Jonathan. Please. I would love that."

I pictured lightly touching her, tickling her in her favorite places, as I gave her just a few details of some of the things I would do to her. "Let me drive you home, and I'll think about it on the way." I silently chuckled about the last time I had her in my car, and how I left her alone, standing outside of my car, as I drove away.

When we walked into her apartment, she went into the bathroom. Smart girl. When she came out, I ordered her to her bedroom. She complied, and I followed.

"I will tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story," I teased. "Off with your clothes. But first get me a scarf." 

She moaned, as she rummaged for a scarf. I lied down on her bed, amidst the dirty tissues. Some people would be grossed out; I was somehow aroused, knowing the torment she had been in. I chuckled when I saw my white, t-shirt tucked under her pillow in a ball. She had been sleeping with it like a child with a stuffed animal. She came back with a long, blue scarf and immediately tried to tidy up her room. I let her.

"Come here," I ordered. "All of your clothes off. Then, come lie down on your side, facing away from me."

"Oh, Jonathan," she whimpered. 

She didn't know what I was planning, but I did. 

I tied her arms behind her back, tautly with the scarf, and then I rolled her over to face me. She was already having trouble controlling her breathing.

"So, I can't stay tonight, but before I go, I'd like to give you some things to fall asleep thinking about."

I began to lightly caress her face, her cheeks, her chin, kissing her lips, gently, taking in her needy body, listening to her moan in my mouth. I stopped kissing her and let my hands travel over her tits, under them, around them, trailing around and around, watching the intensity of desire grow deeper in her eyes.

"Look at me, Emily. Do not stop looking at me or I will leave you alone and tied up tonight. I may not come back for hours tomorrow. I am on vacation, but you, you have eager minds to fill, to what is it? Light a fire?" I paraphrased William Butler Yeats. Take that Kevin. Thinking of him, slightly pissed me off, but no matter, I would let her suffer those consequences soon enough. I was always a jealous bastard.

"Okay, Jonathan. I promise," she struggled to find words, as my fingers found her belly, her ticklish, sensitive, erogenous belly. Oh how I loved her torment. She squirmed as I continued to tickle.




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 02



"Now listen closely, my naughty little worm. I want you to find a salon to wax your entire body this week. I should not be able to find one speck of hair anywhere on your body, except your head of course." 

Her eyes were rolling back into her head, as she understood what I was saying. 

"Now, now, Emily. Eyes open. Keep them focused on me."

"Jonathan," she tried to roll about to get away from the tickling I was inflicting upon her, but then caught herself as she knew her eyes would lose my gaze.

"Good girl." I relented a little on her stomach and told her to open her legs slightly, which was hard on her side, but she managed. She knew she had better find a way to do it. I went back to sweetly kissing her.

"I want you," she whispered.

"I know," I said simply and began my tickle torture on her pussy lips. "When I get you alone this weekend, I want you bare, bare so that when I tape a small vibe in your pussy and stuff a butt plug in your ass, when I rip off the tape, it doesn't hurt as much . . . if I decide to take the tape off at all." 

I couldn't help myself, and I let out a cruel laugh. Just the thought of her out to dinner, trying to control herself as I tortured her via remote control was deliciously wicked. "How does that sound to you? Still want to go away with me, Emily?"

"Yes, Jonathan. Yes, I do." 

"Really, Emily? And what else do you hope I do to you? Tell me."

She blushed so profusely, it looked like she had been holding her breath for an hour. 

"Tell me," I knew she felt uncomfortable talking this way to me, which made me want to make her do it more.

"I want you to play with me," she admitted.

"Yes, and what else?"

"And fuck me."

"Is that all?" I couldn't help smile at her embarrassment.

She looked down.

"Did you just look down, Emily?" 

"No," she squeaked.

"Good. Now tell me. What else do you want?"

"I want you to let me come," she stared into my eyes. God she was sexy and god did she want to please me.

"How about right now?"

"Yes," she exhaled. "Please."

"I love it when you beg, Emily. And that's what I want for this weekend. And I usually get what I want."

I thrust two fingers into her, finding her g-spot, as she screamed out my name, imploring me not to stop. But of course, as she built, I stopped.

"That's all I'm going to tell you for now, Emily. But I will say, I am looking forward to having you all to myself." I brushed her clit, lightly. "Point your toe in the air for me, Emily, straight up."

She sighed heavily but did exactly as she was told. I licked her drenched pussy, as I reached up to find her hardened nipples. I tugged and pulled on them, as she writhed, and lapped up her soaking, wet juices.

"Aaah! Please Jonathan. Please let me come."

I kissed her and stopped everything else. "Roll over." I untied her. 

"I am going to leave now." I saw her eyes starting to well up. "Sssh," I felt like reassuring her tonight. "No touching yourself. I know you won't, but now I am telling you for certain it is off limits. Do you understand?"

"You don't have to worry, Jonathan. I promise. I don't do that," she panted.

"That's what I thought."

"I love you, Jonathan. I wish you could stay tonight."

Fuck it. Those damn doe eyes, they got me again. "Okay, I'd like to." I fucking caved. I wanted to stay. I felt like she had earned it. And I knew that I would get my sick release this weekend.

She smiled so ridiculously, so happily, that I almost felt embarrassed for her. Pride was not her thing.

But I let her find peace, as I held her, stroking her hair. "Sweet dreams, my love," I whispered in her ear, feeling all remnants of tension leave her aching body, as she nuzzled her face into my neck as if her life depended on it. I felt tears of relief falling down her face. She pushed her huge tits into my chest, hard, forcefully, as she wrapped her leg around mine, trying to pin me in place, so afraid I would leave, so helpless, so vulnerable.

"Oh, Jonathan. Yes. I love you. Please don't ever leave me. Please . . ."

I loved to know that I, and only I, could control her emotional turmoil. Pain and pleasure, all wrapped into one indistinguishable feeling. Right now, I'd pamper her, let her feel safe, loved. So pliable to my whims. 

I too let myself drift off, imagining a struggling Emily tied to a bed, tortured and begging . . . Soon, very soon.



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 03



(I published the first two chapters under BDSM, but some people felt it would work better in this category. I have sinced changed it and put them all in this new category. Please give me your feedback on whether I made the right choice!) 

*

I booked a weekend trip to South Beach, Miami. Emily didn't teach on Fridays, so I told her I'd pick her up that Thursday at the college around 3:30 to head out for the weekend. I had quite a weekend planned for her. I couldn't wait to torment and tease her. 

"But I will need to go home and pack," she argued.

"No worries. I've packed everything you're going to need, and I can buy you anything I've forgotten once we get there. Unless you'd rather not see me this weekend?" I teased.

She sighed. "Okay, Jonathan. I'll see you soon," she conceded. She tried not to sound excited, but I could hear her smiling into the phone.

I had packed her a light bag of things I knew she'd be embarrassed to wear, my favorite, a see-through white bikini. As I've said, Emily didn't like to show off her body; this little number would make her so self-conscious that just knowing her turmoil and seeing her almost naked body all day would keep my cock erect. She should be completely bare as I had instructed, so the transparency wouldn't be too absurd for her. Except, I wanted to see her aching nipples swell through the top. I would be sure those sensitive gum drops were on full display, though I wouldn't touch them, once. At least not at first. 

The sales clerk had told me that the only downfall to the bathing suit was that it had no lining so it really wouldn't be appropriate to get it wet. She said, "It's more of a lounging bathing suit." Perfect, I thought to myself. We'd be sure to get it nice and wet, exposing her fully. It would be a cruel game I could play with her: I would punish her for any lewd looks she got from men (or women for that matter). And this bikini would ensure she got nothing but looks from everyone.

I had a sadistic plan in store for her. First, I would deprive her of any contact, any touching, and then as the days turned into the next, I would slowly build her up to an excruciating orgasm. And I wasn't sure if I'd let her come at all to be quite frank. I loved keeping her in a state of constant sexual deprivation, building that pulsating pain between her legs. God, I couldn't wait to be so close to her squirming body. 

I had bought a new vibrating egg that could be controlled at a pretty good distant by remote. It was waterproof as well! I could keep her constantly aroused, even on the beach, even while in the Jacuzzi. I needed to teach her a bit of a lesson for hanging with that dickhead, Kevin. I was not going to make her weekend easy. I had been too easy on her the last time we were together. I was getting hard just imagining her tortured voice begging for me to let her come, and a huge smile spread deviously across my face.

I waited outside the college for her to exit, but it was past 3:30, and I started to worry we might miss our flight. I slapped the hazards on and took the stairs two at a time, as I saw her fumbling her way to the door . . . waving good-bye to . . . I fucking couldn't believe it . . . Kevin. What the fuck? 

"Oh, hi!" she gasped, a bit out of breath. "I forgot we had to clear out some of the artwork and Kevin's poetry today from the exhibit. Sorry about that. I wish you had given me a little more notice." 

She was stressed, flustered. As she should be. Seeing her with Kevin infuriated me, but I didn't let on. She would find out later just how much she was going to pay.

"Relax, Emily. Sun, good food and wine, my nimble hands," I paused to kiss her reassuringly. "That will relieve your stress." I loved to make her feel safe, even if false.

She visibly exhaled into my mouth, tonguing me passionately. "I missed you this week. I started to worry a little bit."

I hadn't contacted her all week. I was such a bastard that way. Wanted her to wait it out. "I know," I reassured again. "I had a lot of errands to do. Sorry. I was just really busy. You have nothing to worry about, Emily." Half-truths I knew. She didn't have to worry about another break up and true, I had been doing errands, shopping for her, sneaking into her closet to make sure I had all the right sizes. But worry she absolutely should about the sexual and mental torment I was planning. 

She pressed her head against my shoulder with a bit of a pained moan, and I lifted her chin to force her to look me in the eyes. "Come. We have a plane to catch. And I have a woman to tease."

Her eyes involuntarily rolled back and she squeezed my hand. I was pretty sure she was squeezing more than that. She secretly loved what I did to her. She just had trouble admitting it. And I loved that about her. I loved that she felt guilt. Her agony only made me want to do it all the more.

We hopped into my car. We had about a half hour to get to the airport. I was trying to suppress my anger at seeing her with Kevin like that.

"Spread your legs for me." She had a skirt on that fell just below her knees. "And take off your underwear and tights. You won't be needing those in Miami. And I didn't pack you any panties."

"Jonathan," she leaned the back of her head against the car seat and moaned.

"Now, Emily. Don't worry. I'm not going to touch you, but I want your legs apart for this entire ride, whether I'm touching you or not. Do you understand?"

She complied. This was the best part of Emily. She never wanted to disappoint me. I watched her squirm from the corner of my eye.

"Are you wet already, Emily? My. My. You are in for a very long weekend, a very long weekend, indeed."

"Touch me, Jonathan. Please. I've missed you."

God. I almost started laughing. I had no plans to touch her. At all. Not for a very long time. It would torture her. But not me. She was going to touch and please me whenever I wanted. And I wanted it right at that very moment.

"I'm afraid not, Emily. But you can touch me. Take my cock out and play with it. Be sure your legs are spread for me."

She hesitated, let out her shaky breathing, and unzipped me and stroked.

"Yes, Emily. Just like that. Now suck the tip of my cock. Lick it and flick your tongue around it. Are you hungry?"

She looked up to me with her big brown eyes, filled with such nervousness and lust wrapped into one. They were questioning me. Was I really asking her, or did I mean something else? Her eyes were pleading already. God, she was really going to suffer this weekend. My cock was almost ready to explode right then and there.

"Yes. Emily. You're going to swallow every last drop of my come. And I want you to get used to it. You're going to be eating and swallowing a lot of it this weekend." I laughed, and then said seriously, "Make me come, Emily. Now."

Her licks became more passionate, as I grabbed her knee to ensure her legs were spread. I blew my load, slapping come hard against the back of her throat. "Keep my cock in your mouth, until I say you can remove it." I had no intention of letting her get up. I reminded her to keep her legs spread by pressing her knee closer against my leg, leaving her legs spread wide, as I listened to her muffled moans.

I could feel her looking up at me as we drove. We had about 20 more minutes, and I had no intention of letting my softened cock out of her mouth.

I chuckled, a little, I couldn't help it, as I felt some drool mixed with a little bit of my come trickle out of her mouth. "Don't you dare get up, Emily. I like you like this. You look beautiful with my cock in your mouth." 

And she was fucking beautiful, with or without my cock in her mouth. The way she dressed aroused me in uncontrollable ways. It was so innocent, prissy even, and yet that tiny waist and those huge tits just could never be hidden. She just could not look anything but sexy, as much as she tried. I could imagine her male students probably whacked off quite a bit fantasizing about her. Thinking about it, thinking of her long hair touching their desks as she bent over to critique their art actually pissed me off a bit. I was in a real mood, an irrational, sadistic mood. Not good for my sweet Emily.

Her breathing was a little pained through her nose as she dutifully kept my flaccid cock in her mouth, her body so tense, I thought I could almost get hard again. I pressed her knee tighter still against my leg, removed it once she got the message, and stroked her hair for a couple of minutes to lull her a bit. I then abruptly stopped, hearing her whimper when I removed contact.

"Almost there, sweetheart. I have some special items I packed for us Emily. Would you like to hear about them?"

She couldn't answer of course with my cock in her mouth. 

"But I am not going to use any of them until at least well into tomorrow. I don't plan to touch you at all for a very long time. How does that make you feel, Emily?"

I felt her fight the urge to push her legs back together, as muted noises of anguish tried to escape her mouth.

"No you don't. I want you to picture my fingers lightly touching your wet slit. But I'm not going to." Teasing her was so fun, so easy.

She was struggling a bit, her breathing shallow, and she kept looking up at me, begging me to release her, longingly, but with serious trepidation in her eyes. "Okay. You can get up now. Put your panties and tights in the glove compartment if you still want to come with me. You do, right? Still want to come?" I teased her. I kissed her long and hard.

She tried to control her breathing. "Yes, Jonathan," her voice cracked a bit.

"I know you do." I knew the break up still had her reeling, nervous, insecure, and little scared. I lightened up a bit, and grabbed her hand playfully. "We will have fun, I promise." God. She could always make me feel just a little sorry. Not quite enough, of course, but I still relented, if only for a small respite. The poor thing. 

When we were finally snug on the plane in first class, covered in a blanket, I resumed my torment on her. It was just too much fun not to. I whispered into her ear, "We've got a couple hours here. Legs spread. If you pull them together even once, you find out the consequences," I smirked.

Her chest heaved and I could see her eyes well up a bit. Tears already? God. My cock swelled. She looked up to me. "Please, Jonathan." But she didn't cry.

I almost touched her to release some of her pressure, her tension, but I just couldn't. I loved to see her this way. I smiled down at her. "Sssh, Emily," I soothed her. "We have the whole weekend," and a light laugh escaped me. 

I ignored her squirming for most of the flight as I read and did some catch-up work. I saw her struggle to read and fail miserably next to me. So needy. I loved it.

"Do you like the way I touch you, Emily?" I just couldn't leave her completely alone.

"Yes," she whispered.

"What do you like the most?" I probed.

"Jonathan, please. You're embarrassing me."

"Hmm. Well, if you can't verbalize your feelings, I guess I can't touch you at all."

She shimmied closer to me, closing her legs and eyes simultaneously. I let her. I took pity on her for just a couple seconds. She struggled to look up at me. "I like everything you do," she admitted.

I smiled down at her and kissed her tenderly. I just couldn't help getting my kicks. One minute cold, the next minute, warm and fuzzy. "Get back over there, my little nymph. Spread your legs."

The flight seemed excruciating for her, as I watched her try to find a comfortable position, crossing her arms, uncrossing her arms, sighing long and hard, keeping her legs apart. Occasionally I would glare at her to remind her to keep her legs unbearably apart. At one point she asked, "Why do you do this to me?" 

"Because I can," I smiled. "And because you let me." I grabbed her chin to make her look into my taunting eyes. "And you like it."

She didn't deny it and just let out her breath so heavily, it quivered noticeably. I wondered what people were thinking. I so wanted to see how wet she was, but I didn't want to give her any relief from her aching, throbbing need. But I had to know. I swiped my pinkie as lightly as I could over her pussy lips. It caught her off guard and she gasped loudly. Three different people whipped around to look at us, annoyed, irritated with her constant noises and movements, like they were stuck sitting next to a restless child. She shoved her humiliated face into my shoulder as I laughed, her face, red and blotched, her chest heaving.

"Oh yes. You certainly like it. That is an understatement. Am I right, Emily?" I had never quite humiliated her like this, in public, and it was much more enjoyable than I could have imagined.

"Stop," she begged. "Or continue. Please. I can't take you not touching me."

"Your pussy is so wet, Emily, so ready for me, all the time. What do you think Kevin would think if he knew your dirty little secrets?"

That changed her mood slightly. She sat up, almost pouting. "Stop it, Jonathan. Come on."

"Why were you with him when I picked you up?" I scolded her like I might a child, my voice laced with an undertone of anger.

"What?" she asked nervously, sensing I was pissed. "I told you. We had to pick up things from our exhibits to make way for the new one. I did not do that on purpose, Jonathan, if that's what you're implying."

Believe it or not, Emily did have a strong side when she wasn't under my sexual thumb. It was showing here a bit, but it would be easy to squelch. I rather liked her assertive side outside of the bedroom. She was a firecracker actually when it came to her art and her colleagues and her students. People would lose a lot of money betting on Emily's sexual submissive tendencies. Her life-size self-portrait was discussed by her colleagues as some kind of feminist statement she was trying to make. It was quite hilarious, actually. No one would ever know. But I did, and much to her chagrin, so did she.

"I'm not sure I like your tone, Emily," I continued to condescend. "And let me warn you, it's going to cost you."

Silence. I tried not to laugh at how easy I could control her. I completely and utterly ignored her for the last leg of the trip. Only once did I glare at her legs and push them back open with a "Tsk."

The hotel suite was magnificent, the four-poster bed a virtual torture device to be used on my willing victim. The suite was plush and luxurious and modern. First stop: Jacuzzi tub. She was going to wash me and please me and writhe with unfulfilment. I had no intention of even remotely satisfying her; in fact, I would continue not to touch her at all. Second stop: Room service. I would order her favorite, filet mignon, and maybe, if she was really good, I'll let her eat a little bit. My cock was hard before she even started to unpack.

I started the bath. "Come here, beautiful." And I slowly began to remove her blouse, one slow button at a time. "Arms by your side. Do not move a muscle unless I ask you to."

Again, she just sighed, moaning slightly. It was just so fucking easy. 

I left on her bra and unclasped the hook at the back of her skirt, letting it fall. I could feel her tensing, literal electricity jumping off her skin. She wanted me to touch her so badly, her whole body was willing me to do it. But she would get none of it from me. 

Finally, the bathtub filled. I didn't add any oils or bubbles. No. She was going to wash me and get very little pleasure herself. 

"Go ahead. I saved the best for last. Let me see your tits and those sensitive nipples. Remove your bra."

She did willingly but struggled to look at me, feeling self-conscious. She was having trouble controlling her breathing. I stared at her, watching her shift uncomfortably. She embarrassed so fucking easily, her cheeks all flushed and dark pink. I knew she wanted to cover up, as I saw her arms make an involuntary move to hide herself. I gave her a look so stern she immediately stopped the urge and continued to stay helpless and naked in front of me. 

Her nipples were so engorged I actually felt sorry for the ache she must be feeling, looking at how swollen they were and knowing how sensitive they were. Her tiny, flat stomach showed the rapid intake of her breaths, as I watched it push in and out. Her pussy was completely waxed and bare as I had asked her to do. It was going to take all my will power not to stroke her there. I stepped in closer as her breath hitched, standing mere inches from her but continuing to torture her by not touching her. Her body shook at my predatory proximity to her. I knew she was feeling some semblance of hope. She just never knew any better.

"I am going to have so much fun down there, Emily. No interference. I like the way it looks, and I can't wait to see how it feels. I am going to have lots of time to explore down there, to touch you, to kiss you, to tease you, and to please you . . . eventually. You have pleased me by following my simple instructions on this. You will be rewarded . . . at some point. But right now, I need you in the tub."

I stripped at record speed as she waited, silently, in the tub. All I could hear was her ragged breathing. 

"Hi," she said breathily as I stepped in behind her. I think she thought it was finally going to happen, that I would caress and touch and please her. I often washed her in the tub, sensually, tenderly. 

"Hi, baby," I let her imagination linger, to relax, but not for long. I made her turn around in the tub and face me. "I'd like you to wash me, head to toe, and when I'm good and clean and satisfied, I am going to stand, and you are going to wash my cock, and then you're going to suck me off again. Do you think you'll enjoy that?"

She didn't answer right away. I could see incredulity in her eyes, a tortured begging. I saw her eyes well a bit again. I wondered if she would actually cry this time. I truly was an asshole, a sadistic asshole, but I just couldn't help it. I loved to watch her in pain this way, her desperate desire. It was such a turn on to know that I was the cause of it, that I was in complete control of both her level of pain and her level of pleasure. And for some reason, I was relishing in her pain more than even usual. I'm sure part of it was fueled my unfounded jealousy, but most times, there really was no rhyme or reason for my behavior. And she let me revel in watching her torment. She allowed it.

"What's the matter, Emily? You don't want to please me?"

She stammered, "Yes, Jonathan. Yes. I want to please you. It's just that . . ." Waterworks were almost ready.

"What, Emily? What do you need to tell me?" It took a lot for me not to laugh at her humiliation. I knew damn well what she wanted, and I was 100% determined not to give it to her.

Small tears began to drop. Most decent men would cave at this point. Not me. It just aroused me even more. "Jonathan, please. I need your touch. I need you." She couldn't even look at me as she begged, humiliating herself all over again, tears falling into the warm water around us.

"You have me," I said to help her through a bit, to keep her mind in that state of confusion all the time. Plus, she wouldn't be able to suck my cock very well through sobs. "Just not exactly the way you want right now. You need to have patience. Now come on and do as you're told. I want to come, and I will, with or without your help. But one way will have much better consequences for you in the long run than the other." 

I continued not to touch her in the slightest bit, even though our faces were nose to nose, my hands torturously placed between her legs, the tips of my fingers brutally close to her pussy lips. I watched her tear-filled eyes pool with need and something that looked close to devastation. She shifted forward ever so slightly to try to get some relief, just a small touch from me, but I assured that did not happen.




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 03



"Jonathan, I love you."

"I know, now please me. Stop crying. I need to feel your lips on my cock, but first wash it. Soap it up."

"When will you touch me? Please. I'm sorry about Kevin. I'm sorry . . ." She was trembling, but she controlled her tears.

I didn't know how I wanted to respond to her. Should I tell her the truth? That I probably would tease her like this for most of the next day? Or should I lead her on? I was really torn. I decided to just be completely evasive.

"Ssh, Emily. Not another word, or I'll send you back home. I have plenty of money, you know that. It would be nothing for me to send you home. Do you want to go home?"

She said nothing but her actions answered my question. She began to delicately play with the foam of the soap up and down my shaft. I hadn't filled tub completely full so she had total access to my chest and arms and I had full access to watch her huge tits float and jiggle above the water. I stared at her tits and her nipples. If they had their own voices, they would have been doing begging of their own.

She looked up to find my eyes glued to her tits. She searched for me to make eye contact with her, to somehow soothe her, but I was too far gone in my mind, imagining torturing her nipples relentlessly as she lay helpless, tied up tautly at my whim. I was already close to coming. Thinking about waiting to come was a horrible thought for me, and I laughed at how cruel I was to her, making her wait all the time. I almost blew my load thinking about the torture I subjected her to and how wet and throbbing I always left her.

I intertwined my fingers of both hands and placed them behind my head as I relaxed into her washing. I lifted my legs onto her shoulders. "Don't forget my legs and feet. Lick my toes. I'm almost ready for you to suck my cock."

She moaned and did as I bid. "Jonathan," she wriggled to try to get her breast to touch one of my legs. She was gyrating her hips a bit.

"Stay still, Emily. Do I always have to restrain you? Is that what you're hoping I do tonight? I wasn't planning to, but you may leave me no choice."

She froze for a fraction of a second. It was hard to know the difference between excitement and fear with her, so I just let the idea float in the air. "I'm dying here, Jonathan. Oh why? Why?" She panted and went in to kiss me. I let her and sucked her tongue and lips, letting her moan and squirm.

"Suck my cock now, you naughty little worm. Kneel." I stood up.

"Yes," she said.

She always surprised me. Here she was, a quivering, soaking mess and yet she wanted to please me so much that even that aroused her. I was lucky. I wasn't a complete idiot; I knew I was incapable of finding anyone quite like Emily. She was exactly the masochist in denial I had been craving my entire adult life. Her body betrayed her words and her protests more often than not. And she craved and got off on my twisted mind fucks, even if she couldn't outwardly admit it. Blurred lines were getting more and more pronounced for her. Was it pain or pleasure? I'm not sure she knew anymore. She just knew she didn't want to live without me. I loved knowing she felt that desperation.

"Suck," I ordered.

I wanted to fondle her so badly. It really wasn't easy for me to keep my hands off of her. I knew how cruelly I could tease her by touching her, edging her to insanity. But not yet. Not touching her at all was a delicious psychological thrill, fucking with her in this way had its benefits too. It would exaggerate her insecurities, her fear of me leaving her again. I would get to more physical torture later. But now, I was coming hard, spraying her across her face, in her hair, along her collarbone. I wanted to cover her tits in the white, creamy come so that I could rub it all over her swollen nipples, but I refrained. It might bring her too much pleasure.

When I was satisfied, I told her to get back in and wash herself up for dinner. I went to order our room service. When I heard her draining the tub, I went in and caressed her in a white, short terry robe, supplied by the hotel. I grabbed her hand. "Come. Out on the deck. It is beautiful out. The air is amazing. Sure beats our winter nights at home."

She put her head on my shoulder and began to cry. "I want to stay with you forever, here, away from the real world."

Jesus fucking Christ. I actually felt sucker punched by her. Here I was thinking she was crying out of longing and lust and sexual frustration, but instead, she probably said the sweetest thing she could have said to me. The warm air, her striking hair, and her glowing, radiant face brought out the romantic in me. "Sssh," I couldn't help it. I kissed her earlobe. "It's time for dinner."

We sat out on the deck, overlooking the ocean in the darkness, and I ate voraciously, feeding her small bites in between, controlling her portions the way I liked to. "You hungry?" I asked her seductively.

"Yes," she replied. "Make love to me, Jonathan."

"That's not what I meant, Emily." I couldn't help but chuckle at how truly cute she was, innocent, hopeful. "Eat. It's late, and we have a big day planned for tomorrow. Would you like to see what I've packed for you to wear to the beach?"

Her eyes lit up with anticipation. There had been times I had bought her things she loved. But unfortunately, the things I bought this time were purely for my satisfaction. Oh. Emily. Would she ever learn? I held up the tiny, white bikini and she slumped, defeated. "Jonathan," she whined. "There is no way I am getting caught dead in that. I will not wear it."

"Oh. I think you will, Emily. Somehow, I think you will, and I am going to gawk at you the entire day as you fulfill my fantasies. You are a sexy, beautiful woman, and I plan to share that with others. You'll wear it. Trust me."

She grabbed around her knees and pulled them into herself tightly. 

"It's time for sleep. Come to bed."

She walked over to the bed and began to climb in, seemingly exhausted.

"Oh no you don't. Off with that robe. I have something else for you to wear."

I pulled out a tiny thong lace pair of underwear, a size too small.

"Put these on," I demanded.

She seemed too tired to fight it. "Oh, Jonathan." She put them on. "They're a bit tight, Jonathan. The material scratches a little bit. It's uncomfortable," she complained.

"I know," I smirked. I yanked the fabric into her ass crack far and did likewise with the front of the fabric, straining it a bit painfully in between her pussy lips. She actually let out a long moan involuntarily when my fingers touched her clit by a mere accident. "You naughty, naughty girl," I scolded.

"Aaah! Please."

"To bed," I laughed.

I couldn't wait to find her sticky, dried-up come glued to her panties in the morning, painful and teasing at once. She tried to pick the material out of her crevices to find some release.

"No, Emily." And I yanked it up even harder than before, causing her to yelp and squeal, like a little animal. "And don't even think about moving it at all or I will punish you tomorrow in far worse ways than I already have planned." 

Now she sobbed. 

"Stop, Emily," I said firmly but kissed her forehead tenderly. I couldn't let her get the better of me. "At least I'm not tying you up tonight. This will be the only night I don't. But I won't be touching you at all so there's really no need for you to be restrained. Finish getting dressed." I handed her a corset top that matched her tiny panties. "Put it on. Get on the bed and roll over." I left her on her tummy until her crying ceased. I noticed she was grinding a bit, whimpering as if she were suffering some deep, 17th-century disease, but she controlled her sobs.

"Stay still. You really have no patience," I teased. I laced her up as tight as the corset would allow.

"I'm having trouble breathing," she complained.

"I know," I smiled, yanking the panties up again a little higher as she squirmed. "If I catch you touching these panties or letting out this corset, I will tie you up. I'd like to trust you tonight."

She sighed. "Hold me," she begged.

"Not tonight, Emily."

"Please," she was starting to tremble again, and I knew that her sobs were simmering right below the surface.

"Okay, Emily," I said, knowing it would be worse for her if she did have a little contact with me. "But no moving, regardless of where I lay my fingers. Not a muscle. If you do, I will tie you up, and I won't touch you again for the whole day tomorrow. Not once. Perhaps this will teach you to stay away from Kevin?" I asked cruelly, as if she had brought this on all by herself. 

Kevin wasn't really the reason. The reason was pure and simple. I liked her in this state, this helpless, pathetic state of unease and unrest and looming, swollen need.

"I promise," she stifled her cries.

"Sssh. Relax. Roll on your side. No crying."

She did, and her hot breath flowed painfully slowly out of her mouth as she tried to release some tension. That trembling exhale, fully exposing her turmoil, was getting my cock wound up again, but I was getting too tired to act on it.

I cradled her body against mine, her back to my chest, as she shivered with overdue relief. But it would be fleeting. I left one hand on her lower stomach, her ticklish, sensitive lower stomach, and then put my other hand on the top of her thigh. My fingers rested against a little of her exposed, drenched pussy lip.

"Aaah," she moaned. "Jonathan," she whimpered.

"I think you are actually trying to get tied up. Am I right?"

"No," she begged, visibly quivering.

"No?" I teased, cruelly. "Then stop moving. I don't care that it may be involuntary. Rules are rules." I smiled sadistically into the back of her head.

While it was true that I was exhausted from jet lag, from coming twice, and from stuffing my face with one of the best meals I had had in a long time, it didn't stop me from tipping her over the edge.

"You'd love for me to touch your pussy, your slit, your clit, wouldn't you, Emily? Tell me how much you want it."

"Yes, Jonathan. I want it very much. Please," I could feel her chest starting to contract again with the threat of tears, as she ever-so-slightly pulled her knees up.

"Did you just move, Emily?"

"No, Jonathan. I promise." But she squirmed, unknowingly, her body just continued to betray her, and if I was going to have any authority over her, I knew I needed to follow through, even though I hadn't planned on it. She just couldn't control herself in any way. I loved how easy she made it for me to have excuses to punish and tease her.

"And did you just squirm?" I kept my hands in those two exact places. I knew it was excruciating for her.

And she lost it. She tried to push my hands down and I let her a little. She took my hand and thrust it into her pussy, forcefully, harshly. The poor, horny wet thing. She was writhing and squealing. "Please, Jonathan. Please." I could never tire of listening to her beg with desperation.

I laughed loud. I just could no longer contain my amusement. I got up, grabbed my bag and rifled through it. I cuffed her hands behind her back and I cuffed her ankles together. I put a ball gag in her mouth, but not before kissing her. "Sweet dreams, my horny little nymph. Tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully a better day for you."

I turned her over onto her stomach and tightened her corset just a little more, repositioned her panties as painfully uncomfortable as I could, and kissed her wet eyes, as I left her on her stomach. I slapped her ass a few times, quite viciously I had to admit, as her screams tried to escape her gagged mouth. I tried not to laugh at her predicament, but her ass cheeks got so red, so fast, I just lost it, having trouble masking how delighted it made me. 

"Would you like me to show you how red your swollen ass is, Emily? It's quite a turn on for me. Is it for you? Would you like more?"

Of course, as happened often, she couldn't respond with the gag, so I scolded her playfully. "Tsk, tsk. My tongue-tied little squirmer." And I continued to slap her ass.

She moaned, long.

I laughed softly. "Come here. Would you like the gag off?"

She shook her head up and down furiously, the terror in her eyes vanishing somewhat.

I took it off for her. "But no more begging tonight. I'm too tired for that."

She forced herself to breathe. "Okay." She paused, cautiously, "I love you." I could feel how badly she wanted me to say it back to her.

"I love you too," I said, knowing she'd be in enough physical discomfort that she needn't worry about that too. I really had a kind side too, occasionally. "I love to see you this way," I told her.

She would be forced to feel the sting of her slapped ass long after I rolled over to fall asleep. She'd have trouble falling asleep with her given discomforts of actual physical pain and unsatisfied arousal. She'd probably try to push her pussy into the mattress for a good portion of the night to find some release. But I knew she wouldn't be able to. I turned away from her and actually fell fast asleep before her for the first time. Her muffled groans and whimpers served as a lullaby for me, as I smiled into myself, happy and content. I had my Emily back, right where I needed her. 



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 04



(Still not sure which category I should be publishing in, but it seems to be better received in non-consent/reluctance, even though I really don't see it that way exactly. Please provide your feedback!)

*

It was about three am when she started squirming and moaning uncontrollably. "Jonathan, Jonathan. Please. Wake up."

I was exhausted, so I ignored her.

"Jonathan," she whimpered. "I need to go to the bathroom. Please."

I rolled over. God, I wanted to tickle the shit out of her, tease her pussy and belly in that ticklish spot of hers, but I also wanted to drive her wild by still not touching her. I was also mildly irritated that she would wake me up in the middle of the night. But I also realized we were on vacation so it really didn't bother me, and I especially liked hearing the desperation in her voice. I smiled knowing she probably hadn't slept at all yet, while I slept comfortably and completely sexually satisfied. I wondered how long she had been trying to hold in her piss.

"Jonathan," she spoke tentatively, embarrassed and slightly worried that I might get mad at her. "I'm sorry to wake you."

Finally, I spoke, mockingly, condescendingly. "What would you like me to do, Emily?"

She sighed. "Jonathan, please. I need you to untie me. I have to go to the bathroom. It . . . hurts."

That was the worst thing she could say. "It hurts?" I smirked. "What exactly hurts?" I toyed.

"Jonathan, please. Everything . . .down . . .there hurts. The underwear are killing me and I have to pee. I have to pee really badly."

I paused. I loved knowing her discomfort, and I just smiled, rolling over again. "Good luck with that," I said emphatically.

"Stop. Jonathan. This isn't funny. I need help. Please." 

I could feel her slowly shifting into panic; I could feel the rapid beat of her heart and her breathing became shallow, restricted. She was slightly panting and stood to get up. She managed to get off the bed, but I wondered how she would manage the rest. I decided to get up and follow her. 

She hopped into the bathroom, her arms still tied behind her back, her legs tied at her ankles. I couldn't help but chuckle at my hopping bunny.

"Jonathan, you're a real bastard." She was almost in tears. "Stop laughing at me. It hurts. It's not funny." She was getting a little hysterical at what I was allowing to happen to her, and I was getting more and more turned on.

"Just how do you plan to pull your underwear down, Emily? Or shall you piss through your panties." I took two long steps towards her, pushing her legs into the back of the toilet, again, not touching her at all. "Would my sweet Emily like some help?"

Her panic slowly turned into humiliation as she realized the truth of her predicament. She wouldn't even look at me. "Jonathan. Please. You're being downright mean right now."

"Yes, I suppose I am. I suppose I like torturing you. But I suppose I could help you," I smiled sadistically down into her troubled eyes. I wanted to kiss her so bad, fuck her senseless.

"Thank you," she exhaled, relieved. 

"It's gonna cost you, waking me up like this," I teased.

Again, all she could mutter was, "Jonathan please. Please don't do this to me." I don't think I had ever heard her beg this way, non-sexually, beyond desperate. I loved the power I held over her.

I was feeling so sadistic that I just wanted to make her piss herself right there in the bathroom, humiliating herself. If only I could touch her body, but no. I would save that. Maybe tonight or tomorrow night I would put her through that. 

"You poor thing," I continued. "How do those underwear feel?" They were still pretty tightly stuck up into her crevices. I hiked them up even more and held them there for what must have seemed like an eternity to her. She squirmed, and I laughed. I dragged her away from the toilet by her panties and over to the sink. I turned on the water to torture her some more. "Bet this isn't helping."

She started to cry and it only made me pull the panties up tighter. I felt a little trickle of piss on my finger and laughed. "You are a naughty, dirty little girl."

She was sobbing, so embarrassed, face swollen. "Please," she whispered.

And I relented. I washed my hands and shut off the water. I yanked her over to the toilet still hiking up her panties. I slowly placed my fingers on the sides of her drenched panties and pulled them down to her ankles as slowly as humanly possible. I gingerly placed her on the toilet and stood there, staring down at her. She knew I wasn't going to leave and her cries turned to pleas. "Please, Jonathan. Don't watch. This is so humiliating."

I couldn't help it. I just couldn't contain my laughter at her misery. But I managed to soothe her. "Sssh," I stroked her hair. "It's okay. You can go for me. Or stay in pain. I'm not leaving. Your choice." I stood over her as she couldn't hold back anymore and started to piss, hanging her head down in defeat. I pulled my cock out while she still pissed. "Suck me."

"Please," she pleaded. "I am so utterly embarrassed."

"I know. It's okay. But this is what you get for waking me up in the middle of the night and being so naughty. Suck now." I demanded, and she placed her lips on my swollen cock. "Good girl," I coaxed.

She moaned, sucking me off, as she sat on the toilet, face full of grave humiliation. I stabbed her throat with my cock. God it felt good. I looked down at her long hair, covering her tight corset, flowing over her engorged breasts, and I came hard, holding her head steady as she swallowed every last drop. 

I lifted her chin and looked into her agonized eyes, as she sat on the toilet, fully exposed, wet pussy from piss and unfortunate arousal. She shook. I took pity on her in that moment. "Stand up," I ordered and began to untie her wrists and then her corset, slowly. She looked at me, timidly, a little frightened, wondering what I had planned. Her stomach had deep creases and lines from the brutally tight fabric, and I smiled knowing the discomfort she must have been in. 

Her breathing picked up. I think she was praying I would touch her. No luck there, but I would cut her a break. I wanted her well rested for the rest of our trip. She had suffered enough. "Thank you," she tried to say, looking down, still so embarrassed.

I lifted her chin back up to look at me. "You're welcome," and I kissed her. "Sssh. Emily. Try to control you're breathing." She was so tense; so wound up; so needy and desperate. She let all her breath go in my mouth, kissing me hard. God. I almost felt bad for her. 

I stooped down and untied her ankles and removed her panties completely. They were covered in a dense, pasty crust from her earlier juices and arousal, and now a little of her piss loosened the thick film. The poor thing must have been in a tortuous discomfort. It almost peeled away like a strong adhesive. I smiled. 

Her body trembled and her face flushed so deeply as she watched me inspect her panties closely. "Stop, Jonathan. Please. You're really embarrassing me."

God I loved her begging. I teased, "It doesn't feel better? I can't imagine you got much sleep with these panties stuffed up into your pussy and ass. But I'm happy to put them back on and tie you back up. Would you like that? It's clear with all this pussy juice that you must have liked it. You completely soaked them, never mind you pissed them. So are you telling me to put them back on and tie you back up? Is that what you'd like?"

"No. Jonathan. Please. I need you to hold me, to love me. Please stop torturing me." 

"Come. To bed. Wipe up." I ran warm water over a washcloth and smiled down at her as I handed it to her. She had gotten piss down her legs because she couldn't spread them wide enough on the toilet. I walked out of the bathroom to let her clean herself up.

She exited the bathroom, shyly, completely naked. God. She was completely bare, so fucking sexy, so unaware of her sexuality. She covered her privates with her hands and arms. I sat up in bed, tsking her, watching her gorgeous body come over to me, her tits so huge, her stomach perfectly flat. I was a lucky guy. "And to think I was going to touch you. Now you've lost your chance, covering up like that. Come lie down next to me. Let's get some sleep."

"Why are you being so cruel?" she whimpered. "I miss you. I need you to touch me."

"Why? We've been through this. Because I can. Because you like it. And because it turns me on. I paused, "Oh and you can't seem to stay away from that dickhead. Now don't push your luck." 

"I'm sorry about Kevin," she whimpered.

"As you should be. Now, come. I will let you snuggle into me. But hurry before I change my mind."

And she did. She pushed her head against my chest and I felt her wet tears on my chest. I really was a cruel bastard. I didn't wrap my arms around her or touch her at all. I just let her push into me, pathetically. I loved it, her need, her physical and mental pain, her craving and discomfort, her sexual longing. "Sssh," I whispered in her ear as she trembled. "No more tears. The weekend is young. All good things to those who wait. Good night. And not another word, Emily, or else. I mean it." 

She pressed her tits hard against my chest and squirmed and moaned, and I just chuckled at her torment. 

"No more of that," I warned and rolled her off of me. I got close to her ear and whispered again, blowing hot breath against her neck, "Tomorrow, if you're good, I will touch you again . . . I can't wait to see you in that bikini. And you and I both know that you will wear that bikini. Won't you, Emily?" Her body quivered. I was so content, sexually pleased, while she stayed unfulfilled, needy, and swollen. "Sweet dreams."

When I awoke the next morning, she was curled in her usual fetal position ball, and rather than wake her, I quietly left her there to rest, as I dressed to go take a run and then do some grocery shopping. She seemed peaceful, sound asleep. We still had two, full days together. I wanted her to have the energy for it.

After my workout, I quietly unlocked the door to find her up in bed, sobbing, convulsing. What the . . .?

"Emily, what's wrong? What happened?" I was genuinely concerned.

She flung herself at me and starting to seriously maul my face. "Jonathan," she panted as she kissed me. "I was so scared. Where'd you go? I had a nightmare. I thought . . . "

She was prone to nightmares. This I really did feel bad for. She had a bit of a fucked childhood, parents deserting her, that kind of thing. Sometimes I worried she was too delicate for me, and then it was her delicate nature that made me want her even more, to possess her, to control her, to fuck with her. It was her vulnerability I loved the most, her fragility that kept my sadistic tendencies alive. 

But right then, I took her in my arms and consoled her. There went my plans for the day. As much as I loved being cruel to her, I also cared for her. I truly did. And I hated to admit it. I sometimes hated feeling it. But in this moment, I just wanted to protect her, to make her feel safe, to feel loved. Without my tenderness, I wouldn't have that balance to get her to sexually submit to me. 

I took her naked body in my arms and held her tight. I kissed her head and stroked her hair and told her that I loved her and she wailed into me. "Sssh. Breathe. I'm right here. I love you."

"I thought you left me again. I need you Jonathan. Please love me."

"I do, Emily. Sssh. Don't worry. It was just a dream, a nonsensical dream."

For some crazy reason, my cock was getting hard. Her naked body rubbing up against me perhaps, her long hair caressing my chest and shoulders, her anguish, her raw fear of losing me, I wasn't sure, but I was becoming fully aroused just by her proximity. I jokingly said, "Are you trying to trick me into touching you?"

She just sniffled and backed away a bit on the bed. I was back in control, and she had calmed down. "Jonathan, I hope you never leave me again. Tell me you won't."

This was the Emily I loved. Needy, unsure, lustful and scared altogether. "You need a shower and so do I. It's time to wash each other." I looked down at her naked body. "God, Emily. You're beautiful."

She blushed. She struggled accepting compliments. "Please answer me. Please tell me you won't leave me again. When I woke up from a terrible nightmare, and you weren't here, I freaked for a second. Did I repulse you last night?" She hesitated, "In the bathroom?

I laughed at how humiliated she still felt. "What? You don't think it's sexy to piss yourself?"

Her eyes started to fill with tears again. "I'm so humiliated. Do you still find me attractive?"

"Very. And I may never let you alone in the bathroom again. Kneel here on the bed and face me. Let me see you." I internally smiled at how vulnerable I had made her feel. 

She did, shakily and nervously, but willingly. Her nipples were so hard, so swollen. I couldn't resist. The no-touch policy was abolished in that moment, and I started to twist them.

"Oh my god, Jonathan. Yes. Oh my god. Please. I need you." Her face blushed two shades of red with heat and desire. I loved to watch her face turn this color, burning up with such fever and lust.

"Did you miss my touches, Emily?" I kept playing with her nipples, lightly, teasingly, and then twisting them harshly when she didn't answer me. "Emily? Answer me."

She panted. "Yes. Oh god. Fuck me. Please."

"Sssh. Stay still. Arms by your side. Let me enjoy you. I've missed touching you too."

She just couldn't hold back and started to cry, grabbing me around the neck, trying to pull me to her. She thrust her tongue into my mouth and I kissed her back passionately. I pushed her away, back onto her knees, so I could look at her perfect body. I took my fingers and began to play with her tummy, tickling it the way she couldn't handle and then stopped to run a finger up her slit, lingering on her clit. She was so fucking wet. She actually let out a scream and arched her back. "Oh god!"

"How bad do you want me, Emily?" I teased.

"I would do anything, Jonathan, please."

"Anything?" I teased.

"Yes. Please let me feel you in me. I feel so helpless, so desperate right now. I need to feel you. I need you to love me right now."

"Hmmm," I stopped touching her and kissed her. "Lay down then and let's see what I can do for you."

She was literally panting, her body's heat so fierce, I craved to have my cock take its temperature. It would be burning in her hole, just the way I liked it. "If I please you now, I would have to double your torture later," I warned. Pleasing her this quickly was not my style, and yet I needed it almost as much as she did, though I didn't want to admit it.

"Why? Please me now, please me later, please me whenever you want. Just . . . please!"

I laughed at her. Her begging was so endearing, so sexy. "Hands over your head. Spread your legs. Keep them that way."

"Yes," she moaned.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. I had forgotten. I had ordered room service the night before. "Be right back. Do not move."

I went to the door and asked the server to place it in the living room and came back to my waiting prey. The distraction had calmed my erection a bit. Thank god. I had lost my control for a bit. "I'm hungry," I smiled and started to lick her pussy.

She gyrated into my face, moaning. She was already ready to come. I stopped. "Let's eat. First my cum and then bacon and eggs before they get cold."

"No. Jonathan. Please. No. Fuck me. Please. I need you. Please. No more. I can't handle any more teasing. Please!"

"I will fuck you after we eat and after we shower and after . . . you suck my cock. Hurry up. I don't want the food to get cold."

I made her sit at the edge of the bed as I stood with my salty cock poised at her mouth. I slapped her tits a few times and then relentlessly tickled her nipples. "Spread your legs a little for me," I ordered and found her swollen clit immediately. "You are so fucking wet, Emily." I spread her pussy juice over her mouth and went back down to get some more and spread it over her nipples and played as she moaned and begged me with her eyes. "Suck."

She did and my cock grew fully erect again. I tickled the sides of her tummy as she sucked faster, writhing and squirming. Her tits were so swollen and huge, I stopped her and placed her on her back and thrust my cock between her tits. "Hold them together for me." I mopped some of her glistening pussy juices and smeared it between her tits and fucked her there until I blew my load right up into her face, onto her lips. "Lick it all up or no breakfast for you. Be a good girl and after breakfast, if you can get me hard again, I will fuck you relentlessly and watch you come over and over again. Would you like that?"

"Promise me, Jonathan, promise," she begged as she lapped up my cum.

I just laughed at her. "You dirty little nymph. Into the shower. Quickly."

Once in the shower, I joined her and washed her hair. She pushed her head into me as I massaged her scalp and kissed her neck. I washed her ass, tenderly. Her ass cheeks were slightly bruised in a couple places from the smacks I had forgotten I gave her last night. I then slowly and painstakingly lathered between her thighs, lightly brushing her pussy lips. I lingered a bit on her pussy, spreading her lips a bit to expose her engorged nub and tickled it with one finger and some oil. I wanted her to come and I wanted her to wait. I wasn't sure which way I would go. 

Her breathing picked up and she put all her weight against me, her back to my chest. She was so close to the edge. "Don't you dare come yet," I growled at her, but I was relentless on twirling her clit with my fingers the way I knew she couldn't handle or control in any way. Before I could stop her, she exploded on my fingers. Her legs pinched my hand tightly as she came, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Oh god. I'm coming. I'm coming," she screamed. 

"Naughty girl," I whispered. 

I continued on her clit and then thrust first one then two then three fingers deep into her hole as she came again, shuddering and spasming. Still I continued, and she shrieked and came a third time. I left her clit, and while keeping my fingers tickling her g-spot, I pinched her nipples, one at a time, over and over until again, she came. I was actually envious at how many she could come in a row.

I removed my fingers from her body and shut off the water. Her body went limp against me. She was seriously quivering, shaking. I had to pick her up. I sucked on each of her nipples as I carried her into the living room. "Oh Jonathan," she moaned. I figured I could get one more orgasm out of her. This was how I kept her under my thumb, coming back for more. Sometimes, I tortured her, true, but often times I gave her unforgettable, excruciatingly pleasurable orgasms. She was in a constant state of want and arousal, always wanting more.

I laid her down on the living room rug on her back. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as I lay on top of her and kissed her. Then I kissed her neck, down to her nipples and kissed one nipple and pinched the other. I sucked and pinched each nipple and tickled her sides, and I felt her body tensing and quivering towards another orgasm, and I stopped. "That's more like it," I teased. "Naughty girls who come when they're not supposed to get punished." 

Her eyes flung open, realizing what I was saying and what would soon be coming for her, but I went back to sucking her nipples and pinching them and pressing down on her pelvis area as she built up again. I sat up on her, securing her arms by her sides with my knees, and took both nipples between my fingers and didn't relent for one second. She tensed, squeezing her legs together for dear life, and looked into my sadistic eyes, pleading not to take her impending orgasm away from her. 




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 04



"Don't look away from me when you're coming," I ordered. I loved to watch her face contort and redden when she came.

"Okay, Jonathan. Please don't stop, please," she could barely speak, heaving and panting. A single tear fell down her cheek, as her eyes continued to beg me, so round, so alive with lust and fear.

I smiled down at her and let her come again. She writhed and squeezed her entire body and came violently under my weight, helpless and beautiful, as I twirled and twirled her nipples through her orgasm that just didn't seem to want to end. "Aaaah! Oh yes. Oh yes. I'm coming. I'm coming. Oh god! Yes!" She screamed. I pinched her nipples brutally hard as her orgasms finally subsided. Listening to her was as fun as watching her.

"Get on your robe and let's go eat breakfast," and I kissed her flushed face. 

She could barely function, as she lay there, so content, so happy, so in outer space, moaning in a sing-song way.

"Now!" I snapped, but I laughed as she jumped up on my command.

She came back in her terry robe and sat on my lap and hugged me tightly. I fed her a piece of bacon, and she almost bit my finger off. "I'm starving," she stated.

"After all that, still hungry?" I teased,

"I love you," she purred.

"Open up," and I fed her a bite of scrambled eggs. Her stomach growled.

"More? Please." She looked so fucking sexy, so gorgeous. Wet hair, drying in soft waves, her cleavage unmistakable under her robe, a just-fucked glow so spectacular, I wish I had a photographer to snap shots of her innate, natural beauty.

I laughed and fed her a decent portion. She hadn't eaten much the night before. "Full?" I asked sweetly.

"Never," she smiled seductively.

I laughed again. "Just the way I want you, always hungry."

She smiled and snuggled into my neck. I shifted, and grabbed her chin to look up at me.

"You came when I expressly asked you to wait."

I felt her tense.

"Yes. You should be nervous. You will pay the price for that, my dirty little girl."

She gulped. "Jonathan," she pleaded. "Please don't blame me. You know my weak spots. How is a girl not supposed to come when you're making her? You did that on purpose." She gave me her doe-eyed look. Her please-don't-be-mad-at-me look.

"Hmmm. Perhaps you need to show more control. Perhaps I will need to show you."

Her eyes just rolled back and she shivered. Then she bravely looked me in the eyes. "I don't care. It was worth it," she sighed. 

I smiled at her boldness. I couldn't help it. She was so god damn cute, all the more fun to punish. "We'll see if you feel that way at the end of the day," I said, glaring at her. She flinched. "But first. Come get me hard again. I am going to fuck that hot hole of yours, until you come again. Then, later, I will punish you. Into the bedroom."

I fucked her mercilessly from behind, tickling the shit (no pun intended) out her puckered, little asshole, as she writhed and panted. My cock was hard, but it would take quite a while before I could come again. I fucked her for a long time. She screamed and moaned and clenched my cock over and over again as her orgasms continued to rampage her every time I tickled her sensitive little anus. 

I had never taken her anally. There was nothing about a gaping asshole that turned me on. I knew it turned a lot of guys on, but not me, at least not with Emily. Women who liked anal sex were somehow spoiled to me. I had had my fill, and don't get me wrong, it felt fucking good. But, I liked that Emily was a virgin in there for me to toy with; I liked that it was perfectly puckered, beautiful actually, and sensitive as hell. I finally exploded inside of her, continuing to tickle her asshole long after I came, letting her squirm.

I pulled out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Sweet Jonathan was gone. "Go get that bikini on. We'll keep track of how many more punishments you earn today. Then, I will dole them out to you, one at a time. Coming without permission has earned you quite a bit of punishment already." 

She looked frightfully into my eyes, but she couldn't hide her lust for my sick and twisted plans for her. She relished the torment. I could see it in her eyes, even if she could never verbally admit it, her body always showed her desire, her want, her need. "First suck my fingers where your sweet little asshole was. Did you like that, Emily? You like when I tickle your puckered little hole? So sensitive? So ticklish?"

She squirmed, humiliated at how much she liked it. She looked down, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"Do you want your punishments to start right now? Or will you suck your ass off my fingers?"

She sucked, and I laughed. She was so easy to embarrass, so easy to control. She moaned. "Jonathan, please . . . "

"Okay," I laughed and took pity on her after I made her suck my fingers for a few minutes. I folded her in my arms and kissed her on the forehead gently. I didn't let her leave my embrace for a long time, as I caressed her tenderly and kissed her lovingly. She was so relaxed, so content, so different from the tense, wound-up Emily of the night before. I was really a Jekyll and Hyde kind of guy. Even I didn't know which way my moods would swing half the time. "Go get dressed. I can't wait to see your body in that bikini. I can't wait to get you wet all over again," and winked at the double meaning.

She exhaled heavily and slowly removed herself from my secure hold, no fight in her at all.

So my weekend was taking its own path, not the one I had fully planned. It was better than I had planned. Emily's torment was just about to truly begin. She'd need to be punished for coming without my permission, and she would be punished based on the number of gawks she got today, which I would ensure would by plentiful. 

When I realized she hadn't left to go change yet, I barked, "What are you waiting for?" 

She scampered away, and I finished breakfast through a shit-eating grin. Things were about to get good.



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 05



"Today I am going to tease you, Emily. All day. No respite," I told her when she came out of the bathroom in her bikini. Holy shit. Even in my wildest fantasies, I never imagined her looking this good. I think she actually looked better like this than completely naked.

She blushed so profusely, she actually shook.

"No respite, Emily. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I toyed with her, staring at her body, making her shift uncomfortably. Someone who didn't know me would think it was anger in my eyes, but it was an uncontrollable lust, fueling my sadistic tendencies. 

She didn't dare speak. She knew me. She knew the signs. There would be absolutely nothing she could do. Nothing. And she damn well knew it. No amount of begging would get me to relent today. Whenever I let her come like I had, she knew the build-up to the next time I would let her find release would be excruciating. I almost laughed at her predicament. 

I would make her wear the ill-fitted bikini, and I would punish her for it, as if she brought on the attention she would get herself. Her nipples strained under the tight, white, bandeau strapless top, her tits barely covered. Her cleavage spilled out of the top, and the bottom of the tiny strip showed the underside of her round mounds of squeezed flesh. There simply wasn't enough material to cover her ridiculously large tits. The string bikini bottoms barely covered her pussy, a small swath of triangular material so low cut, her pussy hair would have been fully exposed. But she was as bare as a baby.

"Nervous, Emily?" I teased, stroking her collarbone, her erratic breathing pushing her beautiful tits up and down in a glorious display. 

"Yes," she admitted, unable to look me in the eyes. I knew her pussy was already becoming wet. She loved it, whether she could admit it or not. She loved her torture. She loved it because she knew that, even if very far off, the places I would eventually take her would be worth it. And she also loved it because she wanted to please me, plain and simple.

"You should be nervous, Emily. This bikini pleases me and displeases me all at once. So I am going to punish you. And when you start to cry from desire and need, I will only play and punish you further, and when you begin to sob uncontrollably, still, I will continue your torment, and when you start to convulse and beg and scream and shake, I will only make it worse for you . . . until you think you can't breathe. And even then, I may not stop." God I was an asshole, and yet, I couldn't control myself.

Her breathing was strained, her body involuntarily trembled, and her eyes welled up. I was in a particularly cruel and sadistic mood, seeing her in the barely-there bikini. I grabbed her by the waist so she wouldn't tumble over, she literally looked like she might faint just from my mere words, and I kissed her deeply, letting her lean into to me. It was hard not to smile, as I devoured her sweet mouth. I loved the taste of her, all of her.

She pushed her huge nipples against my chest, rubbing into me, squirming to already find release, and I pushed her away. "Silly, Emily," I grabbed her by the chin. "No release, my sexy nymph. You are going to suffer, no matter how good you are, no matter how well you do as I say. And I am going to take great pleasure in watching you struggle. There is not a thing you are going to be able to do about it. Not one thing. I am going to torture you just because I want to, just because it pleases me." I let her reality sink in. "Come. Let's go the beach."

She moaned and whimpered and started to let her fears and desire get the best of her. I couldn't have asked for a better reaction. She put her forehead against my shoulder, helpless, vulnerable. "Jonathan," she breathed, shaking.

I, again, pushed her off of me and yanked down her top. I twisted her nipples. "Stay still," I ordered, laughing at her. And I twisted and twisted, as she dutifully remained stationed facing me, quivering. I removed my fingers from her tightly wired nipples and ran a delicate finger over the thin fabric of her pussy to find she had already soaked the white bikini bottom, as I had thought. I trailed my fingers down the inside of her thighs simultaneously to find streams of arousal. "Poor Emily." And I placed the top of her bikini back over the little of her tits it would cover. "Come on, let's head out."

"Did you buy me a cover up, Jonathan?"

"No need," I laughed. I would make her walk through the hotel lobby like this.

She sighed. "Please, Jonathan. I'm embarrassed."

"I know. That's the point." I smiled and grabbed her hand and forced her to follow me into the small kitchen the suite provided. I left her standing in the middle of the kitchen and looked at her sinisterly. I opened the freezer door. I filled a cooler with ice, pausing to hold one up to her. "Come here," I commanded.

She stayed frozen in place, knowing what I was about to do.

"Naughtiness is not going to help your plight, Emily," I said without smiling. "Your defiance will cost you. And you really can't afford any more costs," I threatened her.

She timidly walked over to me.

"Suck," I ordered and thrust the ice cube in her mouth. 

She closed her eyes and whimpered.

I removed the ice cube, dripping from her lips, and pulled down her bikini top. "Arms by your side," I warned. I would do what I wanted. She followed my orders as if some reward would be forthcoming if she did. Whether she did exactly as I asked didn't matter one iota. Not today. She could be as good as I wanted her to be, doing precisely as I asked of her every step of the way, and still, I would punish and tease her mercilessly.

I sadistically rubbed the ice cube around her areola, lightly, tortuously. She squeezed her eyes and her legs simultaneously. "Aaah," she moaned.

"Open your eyes and remove your top completely."

She shook. My poor Emily complied. It was very difficult not to laugh at the futility of her situation.

When her tits were fully exposed, I began to place the ice cube directly on her nipples, alternately slowly between them, moving it around and around, never taking it off, except to switch sides. I tickled the tips of her nipples ever-so-softly with the rounded end of the ice cube.

"Jonathan, please, stop, please," she begged.

"Begging so soon, Emily? I will not tolerate it. You just earned more punishment for your defiance, for your naughtiness. If you beg too much today, you will be tortured more. It's far too early to be begging now, you silly, silly sweet thing."

But I relented. Her nipples were literal rocks, and I knew I was being crueler than I should. I picked up her top and ran it under cold water.

"Oh god," she whispered. I loved hearing her express her turmoil.

"Put it back on," I smiled.

Again, she simply complied. She was so frightened of what I might do next if she didn't. Too bad it didn't matter what she did. So easy. So fun for me. 

"Come. Before we go, go stand in front of the mirror and look at yourself. Your breasts are completely visible, you naughty girl. Come on, go look at yourself. So aroused, so exposed."

She struggled to look. It was as if she weren't wearing a top at all, and she covered her breasts instinctively.

"Jonathan, please, no. Don't make me go out there like this. Please. Do anything to me. Do anything you want to me here, but please, please don't humiliate me like this."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Emily, four pleases in a row? Racking up more punishment." 

"Jonathan, pl . . . " But she didn't say the word.

"Good girl," I laughed. "And Emily, no one is making you to do anything. You can go home any time. Any time at all. Am I holding a gun to your head? Am I forcing you to be here?"

She sighed so desperately. She didn't want to be without me. She was fucking addicted to me, in love with me. Let's face it: I was addicted to her. But, she didn't have to go through with any of it, and she and I both knew it.

"Exactly," I said finally. "Tolerate it. Enjoy your torture, because if you want to stay with me, if you want to be with me, you really have no choice. I can make this all stop very easily and get you on a plane home. But this is what I want, this is what I need, and you must too or you would leave. Isn't that right?" 

She couldn't admit it, and I found it so endearing, so sweet, so innocent, it only made me hornier. Some days were just worse than others. There was no rhyme or reason for it. I just got off on it. Period. And secretly, so did she. Not so secretly anymore, as I gave her a way out, and she didn't budge.

"Come on," I teased. "It's okay that you like it; you can feel all the guilt you want, but you love it, and I am going to take full advantage of it, Emily. No mercy," I kissed her forehead tenderly and she trembled. I grabbed the cooler and bag of goodies, and we headed for the door, her beautiful tits on full display for the viewing.

She looked up at me with weepy eyes. "Promise me you love me Jonathan?" God she was so desperate. I loved the mental torture I put her through. I could feel her insides churning inside out.

"I promise," I said, because it was true. Just because I liked to watch her squirm in pain and misery, didn't mean I didn't love her. I never loved anyone more, and I needed to hold her under my control. If I really thought about it, I think I needed her more than she needed me. I was an insecure prick, truth be told, but I pushed those thoughts down deep. It only pissed me off to think about the truth.

She exhaled, having been holding her breath. She took my hand tightly, nerves aflame.

"Stop holding your breath," I ordered. I didn't need her almost fainting like she did at the sushi joint. I really did care about her well-being in that regard.

I stared at my beautiful specimen before we exited the hotel suite. God damn! Huge tits fully transparent, nothing hidden, flat, tight stomach, tiny waist and her perfect legs. Her firm, round ass wasn't huge but the smallness of her waist made it seem so. Jesus Christ I was fucking lucky. Her dark, long hair fell down her back, and I watched her drape it forward to try to cover her swollen nipples. 

"Put your hair up," I ordered, realizing what she was doing. "Now." I was not joking, though I was Iaughing on the inside. 

She went into the bedroom and grabbed something to tie her hair into a ponytail. She looked so fucking hot, so fucking sexy, I wanted to fuck her brains out. I knew my jealousy would build today as people gawked at her. My jealousy would help me justify the torture I would inflict. I was going to torment her, well into the evening. "Let's go," I said, almost angrily. I saw a flicker of fear pass through her eyes. She should be a little scared. Quite frankly, I was in a cruel mood.

When we came into the lobby, the stares started. People did double takes. The bellboy tried desperately not to look but couldn't keep his eyes off her. "Sir," he tipped his hat towards me, embarrassed.

Even in South Beach, people whispered, gawked, laughed. She actually got whistles. One guy came up to me as we stood on the sidewalk to cross the street to the beach. He shook my hand. "Lucky guy," he patted me on the back and walked on. I was both aroused and mildly pissed. Just as I wanted. I was sick, twisted and sick.

"Why are you humiliating me like this?" she whined, stuffing her face into my chest, as we paused to cross the street.

I had no idea why I was feeling this way, but I really was blaming her. "Don't say another word, Emily. You are earning lots of punishment right now." It was ludicrous. It was cruel. And it was tough shit for her.

Her eyes looked at me so innocently, so helplessly, so pleadingly, my moment of anger faded a bit. 

We set up our large blanket on the beach under an umbrella and two chairs provided by the hotel staff. I sat down and patted the towel beside me. "Mimosa?" I asked her. 

Champagne and wine were her weaknesses. She got drunk fast on it and ridiculously horny when she drank it, not that she needed it. But it would help her relax into the day she had no control over. It might ease her nerves a bit.

She tensed, knowing the effect it might have on her and knowing she desperately needed to relax. She was so tense, her breathing so strained. I loved watching her like this. "Yes," she replied.

I opened the cooler and poured the Mimosas I had made and watched as she drank a little too quickly. Her bathing suit was drying and I would need to get it wet again. "I brought you some friends," I winked, and pulled out an egg-shaped vibe and a small butt plug.

Like she was prone to do, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. I handed her the vibe. "Here. Take it and stuff it into your wet hole. But first, let me watch you in the water. Go get wet."

She moaned and struggled to get up. "Jonathan . . ." She wanted to say please, but I glared at her. "Come with me?"

"No. And don't get out until I signal that you can."

She placed the vibe down on the towel discreetly and rose to go down to the water.

The beach was packed, full of excitement and sexual energy. South Beach at its finest. I knew she'd garner attention. The water would be warm, but her bikini would be see-through again.

She carefully walked down to the water as I watched, sipping my drink, relaxed and aroused at once.

Immediately, a group of guys approached her. Oh. She would pay for that. I saw her point up to me. They must have asked her if she were here alone. It didn't matter. They stayed with her, splashed her. She squealed a little, looking in my direction for relief, for permission to get out. I couldn't have planned this if I tried. I held up my cup in their direction as a "cheers" to them, smiling broadly.

One of them picked her up, yelling something in Spanish. I couldn't fucking believe it. My cock rose so stiffly, I thought I might need to jack off watching her get tortured by strangers. She was thrown into the water. I wanted to stop them, and yet my cock wouldn't let me. Finally, a group of girls started hollering to them also in Spanish, and I didn't know what they were saying, but it was clear they were jealous and angry. The boys, however, were not budging.

She begged me with her eyes to let her get out, and I figured she had enough, but I didn't care. Her tits were completely exposed, as well as her bare pussy. You could see the outline of her pussy lips completely, showing off that she had absolutely no hair to be seen. I stroked my cock discreetly behind the two chairs as they dunked her under, picked her back up, and laughed at her helplessness. She was basically alone with four, hot-blooded Latino men, naked, and at their whim until I made it stop. And I didn't want it to stop just yet. A mixture of anger and lust filled me. My cock would need release soon. 

Finally, I gave her a little signal with my finger that gave her permission to leave the water. They begrudgingly let her, as I stood up so they could see me. I'm not sure what would have happened to her if I weren't there. It may have appeared she wanted that kind of attention, basically exposing herself naked for all to see. Mixed signals one might say. As she walked away from the water, a pair of guys whistled in her direction, then saw me and looked nervous. "Sorry, dude," they hollered

She immediately buried her face into me and sobbed. "Jonathan. Don't do this to me."

"Feel my cock. This is what you do to me. This is what you're doing to everyone on this beach. And this is what you'll pay for."

She looked into my eyes to see my mood, pleading but refusing to beg. She was humiliated, suffering. She didn't bring this on herself, and I realized I was being a bit too harsh on her. She wanted to please me, so naïve and innocent in many ways. I relaxed, and my cock followed suit. I took her in my arms, forcing her to calm herself.

"Here." I handed her the vibe. "Go put it in. I'll save you the humiliation of the butt plug today." I was being a fucking softie.

I used a small butt plug in her occasionally. Again, I didn't want that hole gaping, used. I just liked the way it tickled her and aroused her. It was small, just like her perfect, little asshole. How she got me to feel bad enough for her at that moment not to use it was a testament to her. She was just so fucking sweet, so fucking in love with me, it made me relent a bit, looking into her tortured eyes.

We sat close to the bathroom; she needn't walk far, but she passed by a group of girls who stared and whispered.

When she walked slowly back over to me, I tried the vibe out by pressing the remote on high right away. Just as she passed the girls again, I let her have it, and she yelped loud and stopped dead in her tracks. I literally laughed out loud. Priceless.

"You're a real bastard," she said to me when she made it back over to our spot. 

"And you love me," I teased.

With that I poured her some more Mimosa and turned the vibe on low, humming along with it as we drank.

She squirmed. Every time she squirmed, I turned it off until she was still and then I'd sporadically turn it on and off. She moaned. "Jonathan. Please!" 

"Please what? Higher? Lower? Faster? Slower? What would you like my little worm?"

I knew she couldn't find an orgasm with this particular vibe. It was just a tease, a tortuous, lovely tease. I left it on low as I picked up my book to read. She shimmied over to me to kiss me. "Please . . ."

"Back to your side of the blanket. You need to dry off. Drink your Mimosa. Here, I brought you some things to read." It was a collection of erotica. "I expect you to read me your favorite passage later this weekend, so get going."

She loved and hated reading erotica. It turned her on, and without being able to orgasm, reading it was just another torment to her. She struggled as the vibe hummed. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable. I shut it off a bit, then cranked it up, shut it off, and then left it on, lightly humming. 

"Stop squirming, Emily," I warned. 

I left us like this for about an hour. She was perfectly dry up top, but her bottoms were leaking brutally. Her pussy juice ran down her legs, her wetness creating a huge round circle between her legs.

"Spread your legs, Emily," and I laughed at how there was only that one spot wet. I cranked the vibe to highest setting and she yelled out, "Aaah! Jonathan."

"Keep your legs spread." I took a lone finger and tickled her clit, lightly, tortuously through the white, wet, shiny fabric. I could tell how much it tickled her.

"Oh god, yes, Jonathan, please, yes!" She looked around frantically but no one was watching. The crashing waves blocked out her moans, the chairs blocking our bodies.

I laughed at her false sense of security, hope and desire blazing in her eyes. "You know you're not allowed to come, right Emily?" I teased and continued to lightly tickle her clit and pussy lips over the tight fabric. I stopped just long enough to allow her to calm down, and then picked it all up again. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. 

I stopped all contact with her and shut off the vibe. It had been about another hour. Time flies when you're having fun! "Aaah!" She flailed. 

"Back into the water. You need to cool down."

She whimpered and began to well up. 

"No crying, Emily. You will only make it worse. When you can calm down, get back into the water." 

We made our way down into the water. This time I joined her and tickled her under the water, on her legs, her sides, her lovely, flat, traitorously sensitive tummy.

She nuzzled into me, kissing me as the gawkers watched, jealous, I'm sure. 

"Stay in," I ordered. 

I went back to our spot and turned the waterproof vibe back on and watched her flail around in the water as I laughed. The group who had earlier tortured her looked back and forth between my flopping fish and me. Huge grins spread across their faces. They had more than an inkling as to what was up.




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 05



And so the day went. After about four hours of torture on the beach, we packed up and headed back over to the hotel. This is where the real torture would begin.

As we walked back through the lobby, a very well-dressed man stood up as we passed. He grabbed Emily's hand and kissed it. "Forgive me," he looked at me.

We kept walking. For some reason, it infuriated me, and Emily was going to pay the price. "You are extremely naughty Emily, letting a stranger take your hand."

She gasped, incredulity plastered across her lightly sun-kissed face.

I'm not sure if I was pissed because of his good looks, or if I had been denying myself orgasm for too long and it was making me extremely irritable. Whatever the reason, it was time I released so I could be free to play with my squirming doe all night.

We had skipped lunch, and I was also famished, another check mark in my irritability column.

We rode the elevator in silence, Emily's nerves palatable. My anger slowly melted and quickly turned to Iust, as I looked over at her trembling body, so exposed, so vulnerable. I looked into her panicked eyes and watched her heaving chest. The ride gave me enough time to come to the realization that again, I was being unreasonable, that it wasn't her fault. 

I gave her a little smile to ease her nerves. I saw her visibly relax, as her shoulders retracted back down from her ears. "Not a sound Emily. Not one move," I commanded.

And then, I let the vibe torture her on high for the rest of the elevator ride, not allowing her to get off at our stop for fifteen minutes, riding the elevator up and down, as new people exited and entered. She struggled to follow my orders, but eventually I relented.

"You hungry?" I asked as we made our way out of the elevator and into our suite.

"Yes," she replied breathily and timidly, looking for clues and innuendo. 

I gave her a quick break. "You may change out of your wet suit and into the outfit I brought for you while we eat. Pull out the vibe and wash it well. Then my cock will be your dessert."

She stared at me, both relieved and scared. I had bought her a teddy with matching thong panties, also white, also see-through, slits for both her nipples and pussy lips to be at my dispense when I chose.

I had bought lobsters and asked her to chop up some veggies for a salad. I cooked and she chopped in tense silence, sexual energy fierce in her sexy lingerie. 

When she was done, I tied her hands behind her back with handcuffs and fed her slowly, first a bite of lobster, then a bite of salad, and then a sip of Champagne. I exposed her nipples to lick them occasionally and stroked the wet flesh between her legs through the slit of the material. I kissed her deeply. She moaned, but didn't talk.

"Taste good," I asked, taking my time feeding us to tease her leisurely, slowly.

"Yes," her breath shallow as she licked her lips.

"Why do you suppose you like to be teased and tortured like this Emily? Why does it make you so wet?" I asked, embarrassing her. 

I slid my finger up and down her slit as she struggled to answer. She moaned as I played with the juices dripping out of her, lightly, tickling her folds, flicking her clit occasionally. I knew she was too embarrassed to answer.

"Emily?" I probed her further, stopping all contact from her body, causing her eyes to open and her body to tense. "Answer me. Why do you enjoy this so much?"

"Please, Jonathan," she squirmed, so shy, so afraid to admit how much she liked my sadistic torture. 

I laughed and let her off the hook. She didn't need to admit it. Her body told me everything I needed to know. "You almost ready for dessert?" I kissed her gently.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes so dark and lustful, it was almost too much to watch.

"Good."

I pulled down my swimming trunks, and slathered my cock with butter from the lobster. I was going to come in record time; then I would tie her tightly to the bed.

"Suck," I demanded.

She did, without hesitation. She wanted to taste my cock as much as I wanted her to. Such a people pleaser, my Emily. And such a pro now at sucking me off.

She sucked, and as predicted, I came fast, hard. It felt good. I had been building up all day myself.

I uncuffed her. "Go into the bathroom and do what you need to do. You have an hour. Then, get on the bed, fully naked."

She went, looking back at me hopeful. God, she just had no idea the torture she was in for. But I did, and I couldn't wait to inflict it upon her.



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 06



Emily finally exited the bathroom, the usual embarrassment engulfing her, flushed and tense. "Lie down on your back, Emily, on the bed. Spread your arms and your legs." I was all business. 

I tied her legs, tightly, firmly, spread eagle first. She panted and closed her eyes. I could see wetness already glistening between her legs and laughed.

"Sit up," I ordered. I sat behind her, my chest to her back, my legs stretched around the outside of hers. She felt tiny to me this way as I could reach all the way down past her knees from this position without much exertion. I tied first one and then the other wrist to each side of the bedpost, ensuring I'd have room to sit this way behind her. 

I snuck out from behind her and let her lie flat. "Perfect." I went into my bag and pulled out a movie. It wasn't a porn or anything like that, just a movie I had been dying to watch, a thriller, a mystery, bloody, cruel shit she hated. I didn't care; I knew she wouldn't be able to watch it or concentrate anyway. I wanted to be detached from her and just torture her as I focused more on enjoying my movie.

I brought out a bag of things I'd use on her: a couple different feathers with extremely long handles, a vibrator, some oils, a ball gag, and two clothespins for her nipples. The clamps really hurt her; I didn't want to inflict that kind of pain on her. The clothespins had proven to be just right. I wasn't sure if I needed to use them at all. Maybe a little.

Her eyes widened and she tried to move. She had some leverage with her arms loosely tied, but when I would sit behind her that would end. She was nervous, I could see that, and aroused, I could really see that. "Jonathan . . . "

"Yes, baby," I said sweetly, as I put my movie in and walked over to get comfortable behind her.

"Will you let me come tonight?" She asked so shyly, I smiled broadly.

"Maybe," I said, totally lying. I was 100% certain I was not going to let her come. And I didn't know when I would again.

She exhaled and I took my place behind her on the large king-size bed. I placed all my toys at my fingertips. I pressed play as the previews began.

I just sat there, watching her breathing take on a life of its own, shallow, constricted. Man, she was excited, frightened, sopping wet. 

The movie started and she sighed. She hated these types of movies.

"You don't have to watch it, Emily. This is for my pleasure, not yours. You can close your eyes the whole time if you want. Or better yet, would you like me to blindfold you?" 

She didn't respond and I smiled broadly behind her.

The movie started, and I gagged her immediately. Her moaning would lose my concentration. I almost wanted to treat her like a dog at my feet, who I petted, but who I didn't really find interest in. I know. I'm a complete asshole.

I picked up the feather and didn't even touch her with it and she started to moan and squirm uncontrollably. She was already distracting me. "Stop it, Emily. I mean it. I will be crueler to you than you can imagine if you don't stay still." I needed to get the plot of the movie, to concentrate, especially in the beginning, and she distracted me. I wouldn't be able to figure out what the fuck was going on. I grabbed the remote and started the movie over.

"We have all night, Emily, just remember that."

She whimpered but she stilled herself. I used the long feather up and down her body, the long handle making it easy for me to reach just about everywhere. She was so fucking ticklish, she couldn't stay still. I wasn't even touching her pussy or her nipples . . . yet. I only touched that belly of hers, her thighs, under her arms, and up and down her sides, giving her many breaks to pause to catch her breath. 

When the previews ended again, I started the real tickle torture. I tickled her belly relentlessly, under her arms and ribs, as she was the most ticklish in those places. I moved onto her tits, her nipples, and saved her pussy for last. I got in a rhythm and then completely tuned her out. When I watched a movie I liked, it was easy for me to do.

Unluckily for her, the movie got me hooked immediately, and I was into it. I had been feather torturing her for 35 minutes, and I didn't even notice until I looked at the clock. I almost forgot she was there, the cruel bastard I was. I paused the movie as I noticed drool coming out of her mouth, her face covered in tears. Jesus. I hadn't even noticed! I removed the gag, after pinching her nose slightly. I loved to do that to her, never fully letting her lose her breath of course, but letting her know I could if I wanted to, to remind her how I had complete control of her.

I let her get her breath back. "You okay?" I asked her, more teasingly than sincerely.

She was gasping. "Oh my god, Jonathan, please. What can I do to get you to stop? Please Jonathan?"

I laughed at her. "Sssh. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Unless of course you'd like to go home," I offered.

She sighed, a painful, long exhale, and whispered, "No, Jonathan, of course not. Please."

I smiled broadly behind her, kissing and stroking her hair. She was at my total whim, and the power it gave me was more than turning me on, it pressed me forward to continue her torture. 

I placed the feather down next to her and she visibly relaxed, but not for long. Poor baby. I picked up a new one. I must have really tickle tortured her pussy, because the feather I had been using was useless, it had become so wet. I laughed as I watched her chest heave up and down, when she realized I wasn't done. I grabbed her chin to force her to look back at me as I watched her eyes widen in apprehension. She had the look of pure fear, but carnal lust lay just below the surface.

Before I began again, I touched her slit and literally burst out laughing. "Holy shit, Emily! Did you piss yourself?" I really wasn't sure. She was so fucking wet.

"No," she said, whimpering, embarrassed.

"You are a horny little thing. Naughty too. You know you deserve this, right? Coming without permission, begging incessantly, luring men to look at you . . . No respite, Emily. None. I told you that. You want the ball gag back as we continue? I love my movie. Don't distract me."

"No. No ball gag," she pleaded. "I'll be good," she begged.

"Okay. We'll see. It's very easy for me to change my mind. Not much you can do about it right?" I laughed.

I resumed my movie, but I had to admit, I was slightly hard again. I wouldn't last much longer, but first, I would use the new feather a bit. I kept the gag out so I could hear her whimpers and moans as I deliberately focused on her. I would just rewind when I finished. I wanted my cock rock solid, and hearing her clearly beg and moan and squeal would heighten my arousal. 

I was relentless, cruel, ignoring her pussy altogether, as she struggled to breathe, laughing and crying at once, screaming so fucking loud, I had to cover her mouth occasionally. She tried to thrash amidst her tight bondage, as I tickle tortured her sensitive little body without relent, sadistically focusing on her sweet little belly as she fought to move her body out of the feather's path. The harder she fought, the less I relented. There was not one thing she could do about it, and my cock grew and grew at the control I wielded over her.

She threw her head from side to side, screaming, crying, laughing, "Stop, Jonathan, please!" 

I completely ignored her pleas, teasing her, "When I want to stop, I will, little worm. Not a minute sooner. I like you like this. Can't you feel what it's doing to my cock? Don't you feel me against your back, baby?"

I watched the clock and tortured her for 20 more minutes. It was hard for me to stop. It was so much fun to see her writhe and struggle under the never-ending torment I was inflicting. If she wasn't dripping wet, it wouldn't turn me on. It was how much my tickling turned her on that kept me going.

She was literally drooling and panting, sort of hysterical, almost completely out of breath. "Jonathan, no more, please," she struggled to get her voice to work. She had virtually been squealing like a pig, her voice now hoarse from begging and screaming. She sobbed and thrashed and begged and giggled uncontrollably, and my cock just got harder and harder as I continued to cruelly torture her. 

"Poor squirming baby," I teased. "I love to do this to you. I have no intention of stopping yet. None." And I didn't.

"Jonathan!!" she wailed. And I just felt my cock harden behind her more.

When she couldn't speak at all any more, I literally started to crack up. "Okay, okay," I laughed at her. "You've had enough." But she and I both knew I could do whatever I wanted. I could go on forever if I pleased.

I waved the feather teasingly at her, and her body froze and tensed, but I finally placed the feather down and chuckled at her. I paused the movie again. "Hush, my poor girl." I couldn't contain my grin.

I climbed out from behind her and grabbed some oil. I was ridiculously hard from cruelly tickling her. I stood over her and jacked off with some oil. I could torture her so much more absent-mindedly when I was satiated. It was hard to believe I could come again so quickly, but her helplessness, her begging and screaming during her tickling, her tits, her beauty, her sopping, wet pussy and desire for me, it all took over. I came on her chest, her tits, on her mouth, her cheek. I was spent.

"Aaah," I said and sat down on her pelvis, the place I could get her to come if she could also squeeze her legs together. I looked into her burning eyes. Her face was red, swollen from unfulfilled desire. Tickling her was torture but not so much a physically painful kind of torture, but a more sexually demented and mental kind of torture, my favorite kind. It aroused her to a point of emotional insanity. I kissed her mouth as she tried to push her lips hard against me. I couldn't stop kissing her as she writhed and sucked my lips and tongue into her hot mouth. "Oh, please, Jonathan," she moaned. "I need you. I need to come."

We kissed and kissed, as I continued to ignore her pleas, enjoying feeling her passion blaze into my mouth.

Finally, I got up.

"Round two," I announced, stuffing my flaccid cock back into my shorts. I resumed my place behind her and brought over the oil to use on her next. 

I pressed rewind to find my place and didn't touch her. I needn't to get fully absorbed back into the movie. Even without touching her, the helpless nymph squirmed. It kind of pissed me off. The movie was excellent, and now that I was satisfied, I wasn't interested in seeing or listening to her pleas. "Emily, stop moving. Do you understand?" 

I decided to use the clothespins as a punishment. She had finally steadied her breathing, until she saw them. I forcefully clamped the clothespins on her erect nipples and she screamed out. "No!" She began to cry. 

"Yes. Now, stay still. I will reward you by removing them permanently when you are perfectly calm, when you stop crying, and when you can stay still."

She somehow managed to calm herself, and I raked my fingers down her tummy, around and around, with my short nails with both hands. With one hand I continued on her belly and with the other, I placed a finger on her engorged clit and circled around and around the way I knew could bring her to climax. She let out a cry so loud, I had to pause, and then I resumed, bringing her to the edge of exploding. 

"You like that, baby?" I teased.

"Yes, Jonathan. Please don't stop. Please! I would do anything!"

She tried to thrust her hips up, and I removed all contact from her. I gagged her again and then grabbed one of the clothespins glued to her left nipple and pinched it off forcefully, as she screamed through the gag, and I immediately put it back on, pinching tightly. I followed suit on the other nipple, and she writhed without being able to really move at all. It took a lot for me not to laugh out loud. But it was funny. It was so out of her control, her wails, her movements. I wanted them; I wanted excuses to punish her. The demands I was making were so unfair. I loved these games. And deep down, she did too.

"Do you now understand not to move? It's time you learn that I mean what I say. If I say not to move, I mean it. If I say not to moan, I mean it, and if I say not to come, I mean it. Do you understand?" 

Her head shook up and down frantically, as her tears began anew. I was a little worried about the gag causing so much saliva from her tears, so I knew I'd have to calm her back down. I didn't want her to choke on her own spit and drool for god's sake. Thank god I was behind her, so she couldn't see how delightful her torment made me. I wanted her to think I was angry with her. I was thrilled with her, exactly what I expected, exactly how I wanted her. Desperate, out of control, and all mine to do as I pleased.

"Okay, calm down," and I stroked her hair and wiped her eyes. I stroked her collarbone as I gently kissed the top of her head, her forehead. "You knew this was coming," I said matter-of-factly. And it was true. I had told her what she was in store for. 

I removed the clothespins, one at a time, and her body convulsed a little, and then she relaxed a bit, tension visibly leaving her body, as the blood rushed back into her nipples. I started the movie back up, thought about removing the gag, and thought better of it. I knew she would squirm through the rest of the movie, and I would let her. She wouldn't be able to control it no matter what torture device I inflicted upon her. But damn her if she'd talk through it.

I sat straight back against the back of the bed and poured oil into my hands. I was going to nipple torture her for a good chunk of the rest of the movie. Her tummy and her nipples were erroneous zones of torture for her. Her tummy had had enough; now it was time for her nipples. I really loved playing with her huge, oversized tits.

I positioned my fingertips on the very tips of her nipples and didn't move them. I warned her again, "Stay still or I may choose to never stop. I am going to play with your nipples, Emily..." I smiled behind her, knowing how ridiculously sensitive they were . . . "for a long time, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me. Nothing," I laughed deeply. 

She heaved and panted through the gag, drool noticeable everywhere. Poor, poor thing. God I loved it. And I began and didn't stop. I let her writhe under me. The movie was that good that I could still stay fairly detached. I lightly played with the tips of her nipples, occasionally pinching them, twisting them, and then back to light, feather-like touches. Over and over I played. I put both of my legs on top of her legs, connecting my feet to hold her down. It was pretty successful. She couldn't move a muscle, though she tried, desperately trying to push out begging sounds through the gag. But it wasn't that distracting and I slipped back into the movie. I lost track of time again.

Entranced, I actually found myself talking to the TV, you know in that way, where the tension builds and you know something the character doesn't. "Stupid fuck," I actually screamed at the TV. When I looked down, I realized I was being kind of vicious on my poor Emily under me. Tears covered her swollen, red face. 

When I saw what my fingers were doing to her poor nipples, I almost felt guilty, almost. I hadn't even known that I was taking all my tension out on just these two, little pieces of her flesh. I had been twirling them harshly, relentlessly when I looked down, and I had no idea how long I had been doing it. They were raw, little nubs. I laughed and rather than stop, I wanted to continue so I could focus on her reactions. I really hadn't been consciously paying any attention to her. But by the looks and sounds of her, I had missed quite the show! My poor Emily.

I glanced at the clock. Another 45 minutes had gone by at least, maybe more! I couldn't be sure. Holy fucking shit. I pressed pause. I had been nipple torturing her without relent the entire time. This was just plain cruelty by anyone's standard. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of it and removed the gag.

She was sobbing, struggling to catch her breath. I tried not to laugh; I was more laughing at the fact that I got lost in space somewhere rather than at her turmoil. She was gagging and coughing and crying so loud. "Jonathan," she was actually screaming, and I worried about her noise.

"Sssh," I tried to soothe her but it didn't help that I kept laughing.

"Please! Please! No more!! Untie me!! I'll do anything!!" She wailed, still struggling to find her breath, hyperventilating.

"Okay, okay," I smiled behind her. "Sssh. It's okay. Breathe. I lost myself there," I admitted. I couldn't help it though, the sadist in me shined through, and I laughed yet again, looking at how swollen her poor nipples were. I ever-so-lightly continued to touch them, as she squirmed and moaned, her wails settling into soft, almost sweet sobs. 

"Please, Jonathan, please. I can't take any more. I . . . "

"Sssh," I stopped her, but couldn't quite stop touching her swollen nubs. They were bright red and tender, very tender. And I lightly, cruelly tickled the tips of them. I was pleased with the outcome. I could be even crueler than I imagined.

"Please . . . please . . ."

I decided to give her a break, though I loved her begging. I got up from behind her and placed my face between her legs and started to lick. I licked her clit in a circle and continued to tickle the tips of her nipples. I felt a little bad for her. I had gotten a little carried away, unbeknownst to me. "Does this make it feel a little better?" I asked, completely shocked at how dripping wet her pussy was. She had juice completely down to her knees, a puddle underneath her the size of a softball. I smiled at that. My little Emily enjoyed her torture, more than I knew, more than she knew. But her body knew. Her body admitted everything, unabashedly. Until I noticed that, I was almost willing to cave and let her come. Not now. No way. The naughty little nymph liked it.

"Yes, Jonathan, yes. It feels better. Yes. Oh please. Thank you. Yes!"

"You're dripping wet, Emily. How come?" I couldn't help tease her some more. "Did you like it more than you'd care to admit? You're helplessness? Your lack of control?"

"Stop it, Jonathan. Please."

"So much begging. So many pleases. Has this punishment taught you nothing? It's really very unbecoming. But I'll stop, as you wish." And I licked her to the absolute closest edge I've ever done, never removing my fingers from her nipples, darting my tongue into her needy, hot hole. When I felt her body tensing, I stopped all contact and looked cruelly into her eyes as she heaved and gasped. 

She shook violently and screamed out. "No!!"

"I don't want to have to gag you again, Emily, but I will." I paused, watching her face contort, my sadistic smile impossible to hide. 

She quivered and shook from desire, and I began to lick and suck again. I thrust my fingers into her and left them there, still, unmoving. She struggled to move against them. "How much would you like me to move my fingers, Emily?"

She whimpered. 

"I guess I'll stop if you can't answer." And I removed my fingers.

"A lot." She yelled out. "A lot. Please move them. Please finger fuck me."

I loved when she begged and said "fuck." She hardly ever did. But in this state, she was a different Emily.

"Too late. Plus, I have a movie to finish."

"Jonathan . . ."

But it was too late. I left her there and came back with a cloth to wipe her down. She was still sticky from my cum and greasy and messy from the oil. It calmed her when I washed her, and I wanted her calm again. I wasn't done with her.

I lay directly on top of her and began to kiss her. I drew my hand down between her legs and stroked her wet lips as if she were my little pussy cat, feeling her desire and passion blaze into my mouth. I could feel her need overwhelming her.




In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 06



"You love what I'm doing to you, don't you?" I wanted her to admit it. I loved humiliating her.

She just blushed.

"Answer me," I ordered. 

Her eyes just rolled into the back of her head.

"What if I did this to you all night and all day tomorrow? What could you do about it?" I teased.

She shuddered, viscerally. "Please don't. Promise me you won't." She was literally scared at the prospect and excited at the same time, her whole body was trembling.

I just laughed and continued to kiss her. "I can do whatever I want to you. So, you really need to be good for the rest of the movie. And I mean, really good." I toyed with her.

"I will. I promise," she begged. 

She really was a sucker. I would do what I wanted. I had already told her that. Whether she was good or not really had no bearing on the matter. It would be solely my whim. And even I didn't know which way my fucking whim would go.



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 07



I knelt between her legs again and just stared at her body. Her tan was fucking gorgeous, the top of her bathing suit having left ridiculous, almost scandalous tan lines.

She blushed, embarrassed.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Looking at her spread out body, nipples and clit swollen to an extreme torment, I wanted to fuck her, but my cock was only partially aroused. I had really outdone myself on this trip. I knew she could get it hard immediately by sucking it, but I liked how my torture of her played out without a hard on. 

"I want you," she had that gleam of hope.

"I know you do. And for the record, you will not get any of it. You, my dear, are going to suffer. Or was I not clear?"

Her eyes looked shocked and full of despair. "Jonathan? Haven't you tortured me enough?" She was fucking welling up again. 

I dangled the gag again. "I was hoping not to use this anymore today."

She closed her eyes, a tear escaped without her control. I wiped it away and kissed her eyes and she lost it. Waterfall. I decided to leave her for a bit in her pain.

So I got up and got a beer and poured her a glass of Champagne. She looked at me pleadingly. Fucking gorgeous. The sun had kissed her perfectly.

I sat in the chair across from her and drank long sips of my beer and just watched her lie there, smiling at her wickedly.

"You're cruel, Jonathan," she breathed.

I walked over to the bed and lifted her head with one hand, and fed her some Champagne with the other. "Yes, I suppose I am," I admitted. "And you love it."

Her breathing normalized as I continued to feed her the Champagne.

"Good?" I asked, sweetly, tenderly. She seemed a little relaxed even, calm, almost content. Her desire had ebbed a bit, but it wouldn't be gone for long, and I would get her back to an uncomfortable pulse again, only to leave her to sleep alone for the night. I would sleep in the pull-out bed. I loved thinking about her mental torture.

"Yes. Better."

"I'm glad. I'd like to finish my movie and then head to bed. You tired?"

She just moaned, knowing I would leave her tied up tonight.

"You love me, you poor thing. It's your curse in life."

She strained. "Please take pity on me, Jonathan. You love me too. You are making me go insane. Please have mercy on me."

"Maybe tomorrow. Certainly not tonight. So just accept it. You chose to stay. Are you having second thoughts? Would you rather we find you a flight tonight, and you can go home? It is your choice, Emily."

I knew that got her right in the pit of her stomach. Her lip quivered. She just whispered, painfully, "Please . . ." Her voice rattled through the whisper.

"Not a chance, Emily. This brings me too much pleasure."

I took the empty glass and beer bottle and placed it on the nightstand. I positioned myself back behind her and immediately her breathing picked up. I laughed. It was just awful for her. Her body betrayed her, her nerves, her fear, her excitement, her lust burst out at the slightest movement from me. She was sent from heaven for me to torture. I just couldn't get enough.

I pressed play and left the gag out, warning her. I needed to settle back in to finish the movie so I just lightly played with her tortured nipples and belly, absent-mindedly, tolerating her moans. I was gentle, soft on her raw nipples but didn't relent entirely. 

I picked up the vibrator and held it between her legs, not moving it. Then I began to lightly run it up and down her slit. "Oh god, Jonathan, oh god, yes, please," her begging was endearing but a distraction. It was time I got serious. I gave her way too much leeway to disobey me.

"You leave me no choice." I got up and stuffed the ball gag right back into her mouth. "Your fault."

Unintelligible, muffled pleas escaped through the gag as I placed it back on, "Plee . . . no . . .don't . . . pl . . ." 

I knelt down in front of her, between her legs and slapped her pussy. Hard. Five times in a row. The wet smack echoed and I couldn't believe how red she got so fast. I could see it clearly because she was bare. I had no idea how sensitive her skin was there. I had slapped her there a million times, never realizing how sensitive and painful it was for her. I smacked a few more times, watching the red hue grow and grow. Beautiful, I thought. "Calm down. Now. Or I continue to slap your pussy."

I took my fingers and tickled her sensitive, red pussy. She was actually twitching down there! I had never seen that before, but because she had not a speck of hair covering or protecting her, I could see her clit move and her lips twitch. I chuckled. I had never seen anything like it.

I became wicked about it. I got the feather back out, watched her eyes beg for mercy, and tickled, watching to see where the touches caused the most twitches. It was right on the insides of her pussy lips, surprisingly, not her clit, that caused the most involuntary, obviously painful twitches of all. It must have tickled like hell. What a discovery. The tickles there produced the same effect as her sweet little tummy and nipples, maybe more. At least she could come from nipple play if given the right circumstances. She would never be able to come like this. It tickled too damn much for her. I could tell. She thrashed above me, pulling on the leeway of her wrist restraints as if she were going insane, losing her mind. She probably was. God, her body amazed me. More ways to torment my helpless Emily. 

I slapped and tickled until I got bored. And it took me a long time to get bored. I just couldn't get over how much it made her tremble and suffer. I could have done it all night. It was fun, like a game, to get these involuntary reactions from her, like a doctor doing a reflex test on a knee. She twitched and twitched, and I dangled the feather cruelly above her pussy before I touched down again. She fought to get free. This was the most fun I had had with her in a while. Pure, blissful torture.

I wasn't a ticklish person, so I didn't completely understand the feelings of tickle torture but poor Emily was. When we first starting dating, she shared way too much information with me, before she knew I'd use it against her. Things about her tummy and being tickled and her nipples and how she had never had an orgasm. That she always faked it. I wondered if she wished she had never told me her secrets. I wondered if she wished she had never learned the ecstasy of an orgasm. I wondered if she wished she hadn't become so addicted to wanting orgasms, doing almost anything to have another one.

I stopped the torture and picked up the vibrator and drew it down her slit and touched her clit up and down, slowly. I saw her eyes glaze over. A part of me wanted to please her, I really did. I did love to make her feel good, to send her to Cloud Nine. But I knew if I made her wait, it would ultimately be better for her. And today was more to serve as a punishment, not a reward.

I thrust the vibrator in her and she tried to meet the thrust and then I pulled it out and shut it off, leaving her unfulfilled. I waited a couple of minutes and placed it back on her clit, lightly, tenderly, and stuck my fingers in her hole, scraping the insides of her as she tensed. Jesus Christ. She almost came. She was too close, and I could barely touch her without her right there, ready to explode. No more of that. God. Her fucking eyes looked so tormented, as she tried to beg me through them, her voice mute from the gag.

I took my seat behind her again and decided to finish up the movie without much more fanfare. I took out her gag and just tenderly stroked her collarbone, watching her breathing. I placed my hands gently under her tits, resting my thumbs on her persecuted nipples. I didn't move my fingers at all; I just rested my hands as she squirmed painfully. "Jonathan . . ."

"Sssh, Emily. I don't want to gag you again. Really. I don't. I just took it out. Be a good girl." My movie was almost over. I hadn't realized that I had started to tickle her belly. Habit I guess. So I continued and stretched my hands down to rest on her pussy, gently tucking my pointer finger into her. She moaned and whimpered but she didn't beg. She wanted to please me.

I jumped up. "Great movie!" I announced. "Did you like it?" I teased. I knew she hadn't gotten one glimpse of it, as I untied her and she curled into my arms. It was 11:30. She had been tied up for over 4 hours. Poor baby.

She was visibly shaking. I wiped the dried tears from her face and kissed it, tenderly, gently, sweetly for what felt like an eternity. I licked her lips and kissed them softly, stroking her cheek and hair. I whispered in ear to breathe, to relax, lulling her to find comfort and security, as she moaned into me. I was so cruel to her and yet, she yearned for me. Without comforting her this way, she would crumble and fall apart. I made sure I was gentle after I inflicted my sadistic torture on her. I had my sick needs but I could also be tender when needed. And she needed it now.

"Make love to me," she said glazed over.

I kissed her with finality. It was time to go to bed. "Only in your dreams tonight. Go wash up. Go to the bathroom, before I change my mind." 

She came back. "Why is the bed made out there? " 

I had made it when I grabbed a beer. "Because. I am sleeping there tonight."

I actually had some business to attend to down here in Miami that she didn't know about. I might actually be moving down here, and I truly needed to be well rested and sharp for my am meeting. 

"Why?" She trembled. "Please don't."

"Will you ever stop begging?" I teased. "I don't want you squirming and begging me all night. I'm tired and want a good night's sleep. Sadly, I don't think you're going to find the same peace as me, not tonight."

"I promise," she just couldn't control herself. "I won't say a word, I promise." 

God she was fucking needy, and I loved it. "No. Maybe you won't but you'll move around and thrash about and moan . . ." I trailed.

"I know a way to fix that," she looked into my eyes deeply, seductively. She was good. She was really good at tempting me. 

"No, Emily, not tonight. Don't make me punish you further," I was exhausted and was losing my patience.

She literally looked saddened, and my slight annoyance with her vanished. I decided not to tie her legs together, just her arms behind her back, just to ensure she was slightly uncomfortable, forced to think about her vulnerability and helplessness. I kissed her forehead. "Good night, sweet Emily."

She wanted to beg so badly. I was proud of her for not doing it. "Good night, Jonathan." I saw a tear trickle down her cheek from her closed eyes that she couldn't wipe.

I couldn't leave her alone just yet. She was in too much pain. At times, even sadists can be kind. But deep down, I knew I did it to keep her attached to me, addicted, filled with an emotional pull to me. The kindness I showed was also sadistic in its own way. I loved her craving me like this. I crawled behind her. "Sssh, Emily. I'm a sadist. You know that. And you, my dear, are a masochist or you wouldn't stay here. You do realize that, right?"

"Yes," she whispered, defeated.

"It's okay. I love you. I love you very much. You're so beautiful, Emily, so perfect for me. You bring me so much pleasure. I will satisfy you tomorrow at some point. I do promise. You need not worry too much." And I meant every word.

She softly cried and I let her. I kissed her neck and stroked her hair again, as if she were a lost, little child. Sometimes, I felt like that's exactly what she was. She turned to face me when her cries had stopped. "I love you so much, Jonathan."

"Yes, my sweet Emily. I love you too. Good night. Sweet dreams," and I rose to leave.

And as hard as it was for me, I left her, alone. I walked over to the freshly- made bed and just crashed into the cleaned sheets. 

When I awoke the next morning, I laughed out loud. The little conniver somehow made it into my bed. I couldn't even get pissed at her. It was too cute, too sweet, so desperate. I hadn't tied her legs, so she was free to get up. And get up she did. She marched her little naked body right over to my bed and snuggled into me without me even knowing. I wondered how long she had been there, and I wondered if I should punish her for it. I certainly should. And yet, it was adorable. God she fucking needed me. And truth be told, I fucking needed her and needed her like this.

She must have sensed me staring at her, and her eyes flew open, terrified at what she had done, now realizing it may not have been such a good idea. She flung herself up to sit stiffly and began stuttering. "Um . . .Jonathan, I . . . I was only stopping in for a second . . . I must have fallen asleep . . . I didn't meant to stay . . ." She was rambling, trembling, so beside herself.

I stared her down. Her lip quivered, her arms, still tied behind her back, pushed her tits into my face. She was vulnerable and nervous. She looked down frantically, unable to cover her body. I could have done anything I wanted to her right then. And I wanted to prolong her agony, her justified fear. But honestly, my mood today was different, and rather than torture my little doe, I wanted to ravish her, savor her, bring her great pleasure. But she didn't need to know that, not yet.

"So what exactly happened here, Emily?" I tried to sound angry, but I was just toying with her. I actually had planned a relaxing, comforting day for Emily. I also had a surprise waiting for her tonight.

Her body quaked. "I had a dream, a nightmare actually, and I got up to shake it off, and when I peeked my head in, you were sleeping so soundly, I didn't think it would matter if I just laid with you for a few minutes. " She wouldn't look at me.

"And was this just a few minutes ago? " I enquired cruelly. She knew where this was leading. 

"No," she admitted. She could have lied. Never. Not my Emily.

"So how long have you been here, snuggled next to me?"

"A while . . . I . . ."

I cut her off. "And what do you think I should do about this?"

She wouldn't look up. Her lip started to tremble again, and I knew she was going to cry. I didn't want her to. I lifted her chin so that her eyes were forced to look into mine. I hoped she saw that I was only toying with her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Please . . ."

I smiled down at her. "Breathe, Emily. I'll forgive you." I really did feel bad for the nightmares she was prone to. I'm sure she had been scared by it. 

She exhaled and squirmed into me. 

I pushed her away slightly to look over her nipples. They were still red and swollen. "Poor girl," I said and then lightly kissed one nipple and then the other.

She moaned so loudly it made me laugh. I continued to lick her nipples, squeezing her tits together so that I could lick them at the same time. I was not being harsh or cruel. I was being gentle, trying to soothe their rawness.

"Stay still," I warned. 

She sat cross-legged, arms firmly tied behind her back. I had full access to her nipples, whether she liked it or not.

"Good girl," I said to her. God she wanted to please me, so I would let her come. Not yet. Much too early for that. And, I had a meeting to get to.

"Jonathan, oh Jonathan . . ." she moaned and writhed and tried to squeeze her legs together.

"No. Stay seated just the way you are."

And I continued, lightly kissing and licking her sensitive and overused nubs.

"Come. Turn around," I instructed and untied her arms.

"Aaah," she let out a sigh as she shook her arms, trying to get back normal circulation.

"Hurts?" I asked.

"Yes," she paused. "Everywhere," and she drew her eyes down to between her legs and then back up to mine, begging.

"I can imagine," I smiled and rubbed her shoulders and arms, as she pressed against me. "I have to be somewhere in an hour. Come wash me in the shower. Then you can spend the day by the pool, pamper yourself, get a pedicure, a massage, whatever you need."

She paused. "Where do you have to go? Can I come with you?"

"No. It's business." 

I saw nervousness and fear flash in her eyes. She hated when I kept secrets. If I told her I might really be leaving her, for real, to move down here, it would crush her. I honestly didn't want to do that to her today. Call me sweet. Call me a romantic. But I didn't want to let her go, not for real.

I tried to make light of the situation. "And you'll be happy to know, I have a very sweet one-piece bathing suit waiting for you, in your actual size. I would not allow you to wear what you wore yesterday without me present."

She breathed. I hadn't realized she was holding her breath. "Maybe I should wear it then," she said feistily, playfully. The chick had fucking guts. She could sense she was safe today, that my mood was also playful.

"Are you teasing me, Emily? Have you forgotten what I did to you yesterday, so quickly? Do we need a repeat?" 

She blushed profusely and quickly shifted gears. "How long will you be?"

"Most of the day. So I have some requests."

"Requests?" she said slowly, shakily.

"Yes," I smiled at her. "And if you fulfill them all, I will give you many orgasms later."

She sighed, closed her eyes tightly and then opened them slowly. She found my eyes. "Promise me. I need you, Jonathan."

"I promise, Emily." And this time, I knew I would keep my promise.



In the Mind of a Sadist Ch. 08



Note: I changed the category back to BDSM because I felt that it was never noncon to begin with. Let me know if you agree or not. Also, this is the second to the last installment. Enjoy!

*****

When I returned from my all-too-successful meeting, I approached the pool area to find my sweet doe. I stood out of her eyesight, admiring her from afar. Even in a black one-piece, she exuded sexual energy. Even sitting there minding her business, leafing through a magazine, her body taunted me, beckoned me. 

I literally felt , I'm not exactly sure what, sadness, fear, thinking about the fact that I had just sold my company up North and had agreed to move down to Miami to run a new business, under my name. The offer was too good to pass up. Emily was going to be devastated. But right then, I was actually fucking worried about how I was feeling. I had really fallen for her; I had never fallen for anyone.

As I watched her sip what appeared to be a Pina Colada through a straw with those plump, red lips of hers, I began to make my way over. No way would I ruin the day I had planned for her, the orgasms I would force from her until she begged me to stop, my surprise for her that night.

And then I saw that prick, the well-off asshole from the lobby, sauntering over to her, slick, confident. He took her hand again, and whispered something in her ear, and I watched, fascinated, as my Emily got hit on by another man right in front of my eyes. What would she do? I wondered. Flirt back? Become embarrassed as she did with me? I decided to wait and see. 

She made me proud, as I saw her shake her head in a "no" gesture—boy would I love to know what he asked her—when he sat on her lounge chair and began to rub her feet. Somehow the scene was making me feel confused. I was hard, jealous, pissed, happy, as she spun off the chair, stood up, and began to grab her things to throw into her bag. Poor thing. Still no cover up. Her cleavage was astounding as she bent her tiny little frame over, retrieving her items. It wasn't lost on him either. 

Finally, I brusquely walked over to her and stared defensively as I said, "Is there a problem?" 

I left little to no space between him and me. God. I really wanted to punch this asshole square in the jaw, and I could feel my own jaw twitching.

"Uh, no," he stuttered, surprised. "No problem. I just . . . "

"Get the fuck out of here," I said menacingly low. "I'd like nothing better than to see you bleed."

The coward retreated, and now I wondered how I should play my Emily. I saw a slight flush in her face, eyes nervously searching mine, wondering if I were mad at her, if I would punish her, make her leave. God I loved to watch her squirm. 

"Lay back down. Relax," I smiled, picking up some suntan lotion. "On your tummy."

She relaxed slightly, still uneasy, and I didn't give her any hint of my mood.

I began to spread the lotion onto her shoulders, her back, kneading her muscles, lightly touching her skin, as I heard her breathing pick up, watched her round ass clench slightly. The nymph was still simmering with need. She was going to finally get relief . . . just not quite yet. 

I took off my shirt and danced my chest across her back lightly tickling her with my chest hair as she moaned into her towel. 

I began to kiss behind her earlobes, gently, sweetly as she squirmed slightly. Her long, dark locks were pulled into a sleek, low ponytail that I pulled tightly to the side, giving me full access to her neck and ears. She moaned, loud.

"Be quiet," I ordered. "Do you feel my cock?" I asked her, pushing into the side of her body.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Do you think you deserve to have it in you, after flirting with another man?" I teased her, feeling her tense, as I stroked her bare back and nibbled on her neck. "Do not squeeze your legs together, Emily. You have not earned relief yet."

"Jonathan, please," I could hear some fear in her voice. I loved being cruel and unfair to her. But I knew I only had excruciating pleasure for her; I knew she hadn't flirted at all.

"Up to the room," I growled into her ear, biting her neck harshly. "I'm going to make you beg." I chuckled. "And not to come. But the opposite."

She moaned. 

"And I may never stop," I teased. "Hurry before I change my mind."

When we entered back into the room, I wasted no time. "Take off that bathing suit. It's a little sexier than I had wanted; you don't ever show me your cleavage. And I'm not sure I like how many people you showed today."

I watched her gasp and almost start to argue with me, but somehow she thought better of it, knew she would have a better chance at orgasm if she just did as I said. I could change my capricious mind, and instead, continue her torture if she didn't. She knew me well that way.

"Good girl. Bathroom, and then I'm tying you back up to have my way with you for the rest of the long afternoon. You, my dear, are going to come for me."

Her eyes just rolled back, as she scurried into the bathroom and hurriedly came back to the bed. Before she lay down, she asked me shyly, "How was your meeting?"

"On the bed, you little distracter. Now." I knew she was nervous about the secret I was keeping. But tough shit. No time for talking.

I tied her securely, spread eagle, just slightly uncomfortable. I slipped a blindfold over her eyes, and kissed her softly, absorbing her moans into my mouth. I lit a scented candle and went out to the small kitchenette to retrieve some ice cubes. I heard her breathing pick up, as she guessed what I was about to do to her. 

I began licking on her nipple lightly and tugging on the other with my fingers. With my free hand, I lightly stroked the lips to her pussy. Her attempt to squirm began, and I did not relent.

"You like this baby?" I whispered between licks, alternating from nipple to nipple as she struggled beneath me. 

"Yes," she whimpered and moaned. "Yes," she repeated, "please."

"Please what?" And I just didn't stop my torture on her nipples and her soaked, bare pussy lips.

"Let me come. Please."

"Oh, baby, I fully intend to. And I won't stop until you're begging me to. Won't that be ironic?" 

She could only whimper, excitement and fear engulfing her.

"But not just yet, my squirming little doe. Not quite yet." I smiled down at her helpless body and stood up. 

She moved her head, trying to hear my next move, her sense of hearing highly tuned without her eyesight.

I picked up an ice cube, and I clinked it obnoxiously, watching her chest rise and fall with nerves.

"Jonathan?"

"Yes, baby. Do you know what's coming?"

"I think so. Oh god," she sighed shakily.

But she didn't really know. And I smiled sadistically down at her trembling body.

I began to hold the ice cube in my right hand above her tits and let the cold drips surprise her, as she jumped as much as the restraints would allow against the cold, sharp pleasure pain. I could see her trying to gauge where the next drop would land, trying to get away from it when I then surprised her by picking up the candle I had lit and let the hot wax drip on her lower belly. 

She screamed out. "Ah! Shit!" 

And I laughed.

Over and over I danced the ice cube over her body in different places, watching the cold drops almost sting her burning flesh, while I juxtaposed the hot, scorching wax against the cold.

She writhed and began to beg in earnest. "Jonathan. Please." I saw tears escape the blindfold.

I took pity for a few moments and began to lick her pussy, flicking the tip of my tongue over her swollen clit, which would be swollen for a different reason by the time I was finished with her today. I couldn't contain my grin.

She moaned. "Yes. Oh god yes."

I continued, licking and flicking her clit as I stuck first one then two fingers down into her pussy, scraping her front wall, finding her g-spot, almost bringing her right over and then stopping, but never removing my licks.

"Ah!" she yelled again, and I stopped to resume her hot/cold torture.

Drip, drip hot. Drip, drip cold, over and over. Her entire body was covered in wax and wetness. She was panting, trying to struggle free. But. I. Just. Didn't. Stop.

Her body trembled, her pleas ignored.

"I'm almost ready to let you come, my little nymph," and I kissed her gently, sweetly. I could taste some of her salty tears as they had streamed onto her lips, into her mouth. "Almost. The wax is almost gone. But I still have another ice cube."

I heard her intake of breath as she understood I meant to continue her torture until the ice cube was gone. 

I put the ice cube in my mouth and sucked it over her lips, as I thrust it between our mouths. "Suck," I ordered, as she drew the ice cube into her mouth. She held half and I held the other, as our lips touched sweetly over the ice cube.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, and I let us stay, kissing.

I stood, leaving the ice cube in her mouth, as I slowly removed all of my clothes. My cock was throbbing and hard and ready to plunder her.

"Open your mouth," I ordered, and the ice cube fell out.

I took it in my hand and drew circles around her nipples, down her belly, and straight up into her pussy. I held it in there with my finger, and began to lightly suck and bite her nipples. 

She writhed uncontrollably at this point, "Oh god!" she yelled out, but I didn't let the ice cube out.

"As soon as this melts, I'll begin your descent into orgasm. Might take a little while, even though your pussy feels like an inferno."

I left the almost melted ice cube lodged in her cunt, and did not relent licking her over-sensitized nipples. Even after it melted, I was not quite ready to stop.

Finally, I stood up. "Just a little bit more wax it appears," I smiled.

I slowly spread her pussy lips with the fingers of my one hand, and let what I was about to do sink in.

"Jonathan, No! Jonathan. Please!" She tried to thrash to get away. She screamed out. "Jonathan!"

And then I took the candle with my other and let the last of the wax slowly drip right onto her 

clit. 

I held her open, helpless, vulnerable, and when all the wax had dried, I slowly peeled it away, and began to lap away her pain. I licked sweetly, humming as I felt her body on that verge of coming. I was going to kick every last drop up of her orgasm.

"Oh god. Yes. Jonathan. Yes. Please. Don't. Stop. Please. Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . .!"

I stopped to remove her blindfold. "Look at me," I ordered. "And come, baby."

I licked and licked and drew her little strawberry clit right into my mouth, sucking hard as she fell over the edge into painful orgasmic bliss, screaming out my name. 

"That's right, baby. I want everyone in this hotel to know my name. Let me hear you," and I continued to lap and lap at her juices, forcing a multitude of mini orgasms to rip through her body, as she screamed through them, loudly, animalisticly, violently.

"Oh god. Thank you. Thank you," she said, hoarsely, coming down.

"Good girl," I said, stopping, and pushing her loose strands away from her sweat-soaked face, so I could kiss her. I began untying her.

She just moaned and drew her body against mine, as I kissed her forehead.

"Now we're going to fuck, my sweet."

I drew her body flat against me, her back against my chest, as I positioned my cock inside of her from under her. I held her neck tight against me with my arm in a vice-like grip and with my other hand, I pulled back her head by her hair, as I began to pump my swollen, hard cock deep into her pussy.

She yelped at the depth.

"You're fucking tight baby," I groaned, holding her completely motionless against me. "Tell me how good my cock feels."

"It feels...so..." 

"Say it," I ordered, making it hard for her to concentrate, as I fucked her sweet, wet hole without relent. I yanked her hair, hard. "Say it, Emily. I want to hear you."

"Aaah! It feels so fucking good. Please don't stop."

And I didn't. I fucked her hard, removing my hand from her neck and drawing it down over her clit again, lightly touching it in soft circles with the pad of my fingers.

"I'm going to come again, Jonathan," she moaned.

"Yes. You are. Again and again."

She tensed and clenched my cock down within her cunt, as she shook and trembled releasing another orgasm.

"Good girl," I smiled, following her with my own orgasm, unloading as deep as I could go in her.

She moaned again as I slowly removed my cock from within her.

"Feel good?" I asked with a tone that I knew she knew wasn't kind.

Her big doe eyes looked back at me with a pleading I don't think I had ever quite seen, and it make me laugh.

"Spread your legs. I want to watch my cum drip out of that sweet little pussy of yours."

Her beating heart picked up pace and I watched her chest rise and fall with nerves and satiation at the same time.

I grabbed some of my cum on my fingers and began to circle it around her clit. "Stay still," I ordered. "Keep your legs just like that."

"Oh god, Jonathan."

"Yes, baby," I taunted. "What would you like?"

"No more," she whispered.

I just laughed. "Yes, more. Come again for me."

"I can't. Oh god. It's sensitive."

I drew her back against my chest tight and circled her clit with a relentless vibration with my fingers. I kissed her neck, behind her ears, and nibbled on her shoulders. I could feel her tensing. Oh yes. I knew my Emily. She would be able to come again for me. She didn't have a choice.

"Jonathan!" she screamed as another orgasm rocked through her.

"Yes, Emily. That's right. Give it to me. Come for me. Hard." I chuckled into the back of her neck, wondering if I should keep torturing her. But I did have a nice surprise for her that night. Something even I was surprised I did. I withdrew my fingers and felt her entire body relax and go limp.

She turned around and pressed her huge tits against my chest, begging me with her eyes to hold her, to take her in my arms. I obliged and she sighed beautifully against me.

I stroked her hair and let her relax and moan into me. I felt tears against my bare chest. God. I loved her emotional attachment to me.

"Shall I tie you up and strap a vibrating egg to you clit while I get ready for our night? I think you have a few more orgasms in you. Don't you?" I was teasing her. Though I had planned to torture her this way, I didn't think I could bring myself to do it. I tell you. She had a hold on me. And yet, the thought of her screaming through a few forced orgasms would make my dick so hard again, I could probably fuck her one more time before we headed out to see what I had done for her.

She balled herself closer into me, not answering. She knew I was going to do whatever I wanted. It didn't matter if she begged. It didn't matter if she cried. It didn't matter if she even said yes. I was in control. It was my choice, my whim, and deep down, she liked it that way. I knew that.

I let her lie there in her little, contorted ball of nerves and continued to tenderly stroke her. I softly kissed her lips and cheeks, her chin, forcing her to look into my sadistic eyes.

"How about you stay still for five minutes while I stroke your little tummy? If you can do that, we'll take a shower together, I'll take you out to a nice dinner, and then I have something to show you. If you can't, I'll strap the egg to you before all that? Sound fair?" I was such an asshole. Why I needed to be so cruel to her, even I didn't understand, but I loved it. She had wanted to come. Would a few be so bad?

"Jonathan...you know I can't possibly..."

But before I could finish, my fingers found their way down to her belly and I began to tickle torture her, and I laughed into her ear. "You don't really have a choice, do you, Emily?"