Spanking Secrets in the Dark

The humid air hung thick and heavy, clinging to my skin as we stepped out of the rental sedan. The scent of salt and something floral, likely the nearby garden, mingled with the lingering aroma of gasoline and the nervous energy radiating from my own body. It was our wedding night, a bizarre, twisted celebration after a long flight and a series of increasingly unsettling events. My husband, Gabe, had made it abundantly clear that he intended to make this night unforgettable. And judging by the way he was eyeing me, I suspected he wasn't playing games.

“Wake up, baby,” his voice, gravelly and laced with a playful menace, sliced through the quiet evening.

“No, let me sleep,” I moaned, pulling the silk sheets tighter around me, trying to recapture the fleeting peace I’d found during the journey.

“We’re here. Move that little ass of yours or I’ll be spanking you awake,” he continued, his tone escalating with each word. The threat, delivered with a smirk, sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't the threat itself, but the knowing look in his eyes, the blatant disregard for my comfort, that truly unsettled me.

Sitting up in record speed, I narrowed my eyes at him, a flicker of defiance sparking within me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh really? You have ten seconds. 10… 9… 8…” The countdown, delivered with deliberate slowness, ratcheted up the tension in the room. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath catching in my throat. Seeing the serious look on his face as he counted had me scrambling out of bed, squealing in a desperate attempt to escape the impending punishment.

When he came in, he laughed at me, a deep, rumbling sound that grated on my nerves. “Only you could piss your wife off on your wedding night. You’re making me crazy, and not in a good, sexy way.” The words stung, a harsh reminder of the chaos that had unfolded during our trip. My initial shock and fear had given way to simmering resentment, and now, hearing him admit it, only fueled my anger.

“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time for that,” he replied, his voice dripping with a confident arrogance that both infuriated and intrigued me. “Let’s make the most of it.” He picked me up bridal style, his grip firm and possessive, and carried me across the threshold into the bedroom.

The room was a deliberate assault on the senses, a carefully constructed landscape of sensuality. Soft lighting cast long shadows across the plush velvet walls, while a scattering of rose petals adorned the four-poster bed. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla hung heavy in the air, creating an atmosphere of decadent indulgence. These are the small things he did that made me fall in love with him, the intimate details that spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness and his desire to cater to my every whim.

“I wanted it to be special,” he said sheepishly, a genuine vulnerability flashing across his features. The admission, so unexpected, disarmed me momentarily.

“I know you did, baby, but with you here it’s already perfect. I love you.” Then I had to laugh, a nervous, slightly hysterical sound. “Don’t we sound cheesy?”

He took a seat on the bed and pulled me onto his lap, his movements deliberate and slow. Looking into my eyes, he said, “I know how hard this is for you. We’ll take things slow, no pressure.” His words, spoken with a gentle tenderness, offered a semblance of comfort, a reassurance that he wouldn’t force me into anything I wasn’t ready for.

I nodded weakly, too terrified to utter a word. The blindfold he placed over my eyes amplified my anxiety, leaving me completely vulnerable to his touch and his intentions.

Turning me around to straddle him, he slowly rubbed his hands up and down my back, sending tremors through me. The friction of his skin against my bare flesh ignited a primal heat within me. Then, suddenly, he flipped me onto my back, hovering above me with a suggestive smirk.

I lay there, staring up at him, my eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. The playful menace in his expression, the way he tilted his head slightly, suggested that he was enjoying my discomfort. A mischevious smirk flirted with his lips as he asked, “Do you trust me?” I nodded, a silent plea for reassurance, and he smiled, the glint of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. He removed his tie, draping it loosely around his neck and presenting a blindfold before my eyes.

He then proceeded to tie me securely to the bed, restricting my movements and heightening my sense of helplessness. The cold metal of the restraints pressed against my wrists and ankles, adding to the claustrophobic atmosphere. I started hyperventilating, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps, as I struggled to regain control over my racing heart. The inability to see where he was or what he would be doing next only amplified my terror.

Without warning, I heard a sharp tearing sound, and the cold air touched my skin. “Did you just rip your dress?”

Instead of an answer, I felt his lip start kissing my neck, his touch both invasive and electrifying. Once he nibbled on the sweet spot right under my ear, I forgot about the dress. The sensation, a delicious blend of pleasure and panic, overwhelmed my senses.

“Mmmmm, this bridal lingerie is sexy, babe, but it has to go,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my skin.

He unhooked my bra and immediately started lavishing attention on my breasts, his hands moving with a practiced skill that both thrilled and unnerved me. His teeth nipped at my nipple before he sucked the whole thing into his mouth. The unexpected brutality, the raw intensity of his act, sent a jolt of adrenaline through my system.

“Fuck!” I arched my back and pulled against the restraints in vain, my muscles straining against the ropes.

He groaned in appreciation, the vibrations from his body rippling through my nipple. “You like that?”

A moan was my only answer as he continued biting and suckling my nipples and massaging my flesh. After he’d had his fill, I felt his hand slowly creep down to my panties, a slow, deliberate movement that sent shivers down my spine. Sneaking a finger past the edge at my crotch, he dipped it into my dripping pussy, the cold liquid a shocking contrast to the heat building within me. His slow pumping of it into and out of me had me arching and grinding my hips. He then pressed his thumb against my clit as he slipped another digit inside and continued finger-fucking me, the rhythm both frantic and insistent.

Gabe made his painstaking way down my stomach with his lips, licking and teasing my skin with a slow, deliberate pace. After long minutes at my navel, his tongue danced further south and I began to squirm, anticipating the inevitable. There is no way he’s going to do what I think he’s going to do.

Yet that was exactly his plan. When I felt his warm breath on my thighs, I clamped them shut. That was a mistake.

Growling, he bit my thighs before spreading them and throwing them onto his shoulders, a display of dominance that both terrified and aroused me. “Mmmmmm, my own personal wedding feast,” he whispered, his voice laced with pleasure. Those were the last words out of him for a while as his tongue went to work on my clit.

“Aghhh, fuck, mmm,” my thoughts, my words were incoherent, lost in the wave of sensation washing over me. Gabe kept moaning in appreciation of my reactions, making vibrations on my clit that intensified the pleasure. I writhed and screamed in pleasure under his masterful tongue.

As he continued sucking and licking my clit, he reinserted two fingers and made a come-here motion with them. They hit a spot that sent me over the edge, drowning me in orgasmic bliss.

He sat back on his haunches then, grinning with satisfaction as my juices ran down his chin. Climbing back up my body, he kissed my facial lips as he had the lower set, tasting my fluids with a primal delight.

I tasted myself on him. Mmmm. I suppose I would have found that gross if it wasn’t from his lips and tongue.

He continued to trail kisses down my jaw and neck, his touch lingering in every crevice. Reaching my breasts, he stopped to again shower them with attention, pulling and teasing my skin with a playful abandon.

Just then I felt a terrible pain originating from between my legs. I gasped and shouted, begging him not to move. We lay still as silent tears stream down my face.

“You feel so good, baby,” Gabe tried to reassure me, his voice laced with concern. He knew we just had to get through this part.

The pain gradually dissipated, replaced with pleasure. Gabe finally started moving, doubling the sensations, pushing me deeper into the edge. I could feel every ridge and vein rubbing against my walls.

I started moving with him and he sped up gradually until we both exploded, losing control and succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, that was awesome,” groaned Gabe, collapsing on top of me, his body heavy and warm against mine. He remained inside of me, clinging to me with a possessive grip. So I, being cheeky, contracted my muscles and felt him start hardening again.

“Time for round two,” he whispered, “with you on top.”

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