The need has been building. Always present, every time with her husband she wishes he would try, do, something. Her twitter account shows images that make her clench, she reads conversations with graphic descriptions of things she can only dream of. She squirms when on her own, but daren’t ask her husband, daren’t take that leap of faith to tell him her needs, he just wouldn’t understand. She fears the man she has been with for ten years would look at her in disgust.
She want to have control taken from her, to be tied, toyed with, taken to new heights of pleasure.
To be used as a plaything.
The twitter messages from Him start with a simple; “I know what you need”
Over the weeks He tempts her, every fantasy He relates makes her melt, she exists in a constant heightened state of arousal. He begins the complete brain fuck, the learning and exploring of her mind. How to turn her on, how to give her confidence.
He asks her things about her body, how she climaxes, how she prefers to come. What her fantasies are. She is shy and nervous but not reluctant to share. She needs this.
Every day a new message, a new fantasy to explore or task to expand her awareness of her mental and physical desires:
He tells her he wants to teach her the deep sensations, the sting and throb of a heavy leather strap on her bottom and would make her so wet, so turned on that the slightest touch of her clit would have her flooding on his hand.
He requires her to play with her unexplored bottom, to learn how it feels to have stimulation on her clit and something filling previously untouched regions of her body.
He encourages her to experience how pegs on her nipples send jolts straight to her clit, heightening her pleasure, accelerating and magnifying the orgasm.
He makes her imagine what it feels like to have a bit in her mouth, back forcibly arched as he takes her from behind, pulling the reins tight. Taking her.
A small, sleek small plug arrives in the post with a note that He wants her to feel it with her fingers in her pussy. Imagining then what His thick cock might feel like bulging in her. What two toys feel like, opening her up as she masturbates.
Another gift arrives, a book of erotica and a note: “I’m having lovely thoughts about you reading this and slowly sliding your fingers into your knickers, seeing how wet you get. Show me”.
He opens her mind to new possibilities , new challenges. She learns more about her body, her needs in those few weeks talking online to Him than she has in ten years of her relationship with her husband.
One evening, without warning, the message arrives she has half been dreading, half wishing would come. Simply:
The panic grips her, she can’t contemplate taking such a large step. Then, her mind drifts back over the past few weeks, the feelings of near bliss He has elicited purely with suggestion, instruction. She has the realisation, this may be her only chance at fulfilment, the chance to sate her darker desires. A fitful night’s sleep and in the morning, reaches for her phone, types Him the shortest of replies:
“I’ll be brave.”