Heart Full Of Black

The second, and final entry in my Blogiversary Contest is from Sakura Sarashi (who kicks ass at rope!)

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Beneath His Hand – Sakura Sarashi

I awoke with a feeling similar to that I had as a child on my birthday. Anticipation of what is to come and fright that I may not like it. How would I react if this were not what I wanted? Would the remorse show on my face like it does when I am overcome with joy? I decided to put it out of my mind as I got up from the bed and put on my clothes. I dressed slowly, taking into account all that he wrote in the letter. I wore a knee length skirt and a top that didn’t fit too snugly. Not your typical outfit for me. I normally wear just enough to keep you guessing, but not too much. I don’t like being ignored in a crowd. And it’s easy for people to ignore me. I am a small girl, with a small voice, and even smaller breasts. I fixed a small breakfast of fruit and had a glass of juice. I’d hoped he’d fill me later. Then I gathered my things and left my dank basement apartment.

I caught the train and waited for him at the park. I knew I wouldn’t be okay with meeting him at his house and was relieved to hear that wasn’t his plan. When he arrived he was shorter than I had expected and smelled of smoke and coffee. He wore a leather jacket, white shirt, and black jeans. We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. The space between my legs jumped when he finally addressed me. His voice was calm and meticulous as he told me to get up and walk to the men’s bathroom nearby. When I approached the men’s room I could feel my face redden with embarrassment. There were joggers around getting water and cooling off. I could feel their eyes on me as I entered the wrong bathroom, but he gave me specific instructions and I was not about to falter this early on.

When I entered the bathroom the men inside looked at me with shock, like a herd of deer in headlights, but I passed them all and entered the last stall per his instructions. I lifted my skirt and knelt down over the toilet, door open, ass in the air. I could feel my clit swell with impatience, longing for him to enter the stall and satiate the hunger radiating between my thighs. I took off my top, as he instructed, and tied it around my eyes. As I lay across the seat of the toilet, cunt pointed towards the ceiling, I could feel the hands begin to grope. I knew they couldn’t be his as they were too soft.

The hands bound mine to the toilet with rope and I could feel its roughness against my wrists. The hands placed a bit gag made of hemp rope between my teeth and a handkerchief in my left hand, which was to be dropped if I wanted the scene to end. There I was, ass high and bound to a smelly toilet in the park with no way to see or speak. I had no idea who could be watching or where he was. A low growl escaped my lips as the anticipation grew and my pussy began to drip. I could hear a man grunting nearby and I imagined he was readying himself to come on my supple backside. The thought made me even hotter and I wished my hands weren’t tied so I could touch myself.

After a few moments I heard steps approaching and someone entered the stall. A hand reached around and caressed my cheek and I could smell that it belonged to him. Those rough hands, they left my cheek and came down hard onto my ass. Once, twice, a third time and then over and over. I could feel my skin redden and my clit swell with each slap. He commanded me to be his with each and every blow to my bottom and I realized at that moment, that it was the happiest I’d ever been. This stranger, smelling of smoke, brought me more joy in one afternoon than all the men with whom I’d had relationships. Years and years of searching and I’d found what I was looking for, here in this filthy bathroom kneeling over and tied to a cold toilet, beneath his hand.