An Unconventional Valentine

An unconventional valentine shows a naked woman crouching down, facing the camera. Legs wide and strapped into a spreader bar, with wrists in the middle. On her breasts is written Sir's slut, and clover clamps are attached to her nipples.

“I expect you to be kneeling by the door when I arrive, that should be at One o’clock. I’ll keep you updated on my movements. On your bed I’d like you to leave out your favourite pieces of kit. Make it a good selection of things I’ll enjoy too please, I wish to see you suffer today.” There was a pause in communications until “I want you naked, and leave the door ajar.” He has mastered the art of catching me off guard, and this was no less true for the unconventional valentine that I now knew was actually, definitely coming.

Two hours later I’m in my position, his arrival time confirmed I carefully eek open the front door. Fortunately my nakedness is only visible in my garden, but the cruel wind licks across my flesh as I wait. Already trembling with anticipation my skin erupts into Goosebumps, as they creep stealthily up my back and shoulders I slip off into memory, imagine his hands on me. But it’s not my imagination anymore. He’s slipped through the gate unheard, trails icy tendrils across my body with his wind chilled fingers. Claiming me after our long interlude, inspecting his property.

I’m told to wait while he freshens up and takes off his coat.

Head down, eyes closed, hands resting on my knees. Maintaining my position I hear him settling. His heavy coat being hung on my rack, shoes discarded a bag being put down and unzipped. He smothers my eyes with a blindfold first then wraps the collar around my throat, careful to tighten it just so. Next he’s clipping on a leash, and walking off. I correctly guess that I’m to follow him, but we enter the living room rather than head up the stairs. To my bedroom. Where the toys are laid out, ready and waiting.

I know better than to question him. He treasures me, values my likes and limits. Whatever he has planned is none of my business until he decides to share it with me. As for the toys on my bed… a red herring, I should have guessed! A smile crept over my face as I slipped into the unknown, safely dropping further into my submission. He must have seen my reaction, he ran his fingers through my hair as I knelt at his side. Stroking my silky tresses away from my face and shoulders, scooping them up, testing their strength.

I heard his zip moments before being granted a taste; sweet, salty and pure Sir.

As he took his time with my mouth he kept a firm grip on my hair, all the while talking me through what I had done to make him proud, how I’d displeased him, his various options for levelling out the situation and finally, asking what I thought he should do. Withdrawing from me as I worshiped him, harshly tipping my head back so I could see him- were my vision not taken. I’d been drawn along by his voice but been unable to hold onto any of it, formulating an appropriate response to his request was an impossible task.

There’s a sharp slap on my left cheek.

“I’ve asked you before to pay attention. We’ll add that to the list shall we?” I can’t tell if he’s angry or amused, but there’s no time to worry. His hand is tightening on my hair and I feel him wrapping a band round the base. Next I’m being helped to the sofa, in spite of being on home turf I still need his guidance. When I’m sitting comfortably he binds me into place, then he’s off again. I hear his movement, try to make sense of what he’s doing as he moves around my lounge.

There’s a whoosh, a creak and a snap.

A familiar scent seeps into my nose as something big is spread out, but I’m unsure what it is. There’s no time to think as I hear the familiar sound of items being laid out on the far end of my couch. A plug socket rasping against an intrusion. And then the sweetest sound of all. His clothes being discarded. “Up” he murmurs into my ear as his scent engulfs me. Taking my hand in his he guides me forward just a few steps.

My feet tell me what the scent tried to share earlier. It’s a PVC waterproof sheet. I’ve wanted one of these for a while, towels seemingly unable to keep up with my ever increasing floods Sir had taken pity on my carpet and brought reinforcements. Next he’s attaching a cuff to my left ankle. “Spread them” he requests as I step out with my right. The cuff on this ankle makes me feel stuck, but I’m not as restrained as I will be. All becomes clear as he takes my hand, pulilng me down to crouching, securing first one and then the other wrist into cuffs which are central to a thick strap. Even if I wanted to move I was now stuck, frog like, on my living room floor. In spite of the loss of my sight I could see clearly what I looked like in this spreader bar.

The vision made me laugh involuntarily.

“I take it you find something funny?” He was so close now I could feel his breath on my exposed breasts. A moment later the familiar sensation of sharpie scribing words on the flesh he’d so closely inspected mere seconds before. “Let’s see if we can wipe that grin off your face” was a menacing threat, however, I could hear the words snaking around curled lips. I clearly looked as funny as I felt. Lost in the blush that crept across my cheeks, I was too slow to prepare myself for the tug and pinch of him attaching the first nipple clamp. I was almost ready for the second, but his speed caught me off guard.

Playing with the chain, he delights in my squeaks and moans.

Next he slathers my labia in a squirt of lube before pressing the head of his wand to my clit. His mouth crushes mine, tongue darting between my hungry lips, firm, gentle, in control. Melting into him and my bonds I feel the first orgasm approaching, building towards a perfect storm.

“Please Sir, may I cum?”

His answer is denial of pleasure.

The wand is removed, switched off, placed down.

“You can, but you’ll have to work for it today. I’ve ben far too generous with your pleasure recently.” I felt something thick pressing at my entrance, I shifted in my squat, raising up a little to give him space. “You feel that dildo pressing into you? I want to see you ride that like it’s me. Show me how much you want to feel me inside you. Impress me and you may get what you crave.”

There’s no point arguing, the humiliation will excite us both in different ways.

The fire is already blazing and I’m desperate to feel him stretch me, take pleasure from whichever hole he chooses to use. The image of him working each one in turn starts me riding, taking the bigger than expected dildo as roughly as I dare. Fear at falling forward dissipates as I feel his hand steady at my shoulder.

Once I have found my balance he removes his hand and I feel a sharp sting on one thigh. I take the toy again and as I come back up pain sears through the other thigh. He builds a rhythm to match mine, and I feel the stimulation build up inside me. I ask again, answered by his mouth which forces my thrusting to halt. He presses the wand to me as he gently kisses my forehead, I dissolve into begging. Tears escaping from beneath the blindfold, wetting my cheeks in desperation. How did I get this needy so quickly? The flush creeps across my cheeks again, so embarrassed about the speed at which I fell into the abyss.

Do my tears excite him? That would be an unconventional trait for a valentine.

He stands and the silky smooth firmness of his cock strokes the glistening trails away. He saws his erection along my lips before changing angle and pressing his head forward. My mouth parts and he slides in, just an inch. I can taste the salty tears mingling with his pre-cum. “Ride the shaft again, you’ve earnt a taste, but you’ll have to work even harder to receive me everywhere. Remember though, your focus is on me now. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for your orgasm.”

The cycle goes on for a while. Sometimes he allows to suck him. Intermittent bursts of wand torment are granted. Occasionally there’s a burst of energising pain. There is no pattern to what he is doing to me, but by the time he releases my hands and has me stand in front of him I’m barely in control of my limbs. I turn and face the wall, I’m to hold the wand and maintain pressure while he spanks me with his new paddle. My aching bottom is soon as red as my face, the threat of orgasm growing stronger. There’s no point in asking again, he hasn’t told me I can so I have to keep quiet.

I feel him watching me, taking in each and every limb quiver and involuntary spasm.

He takes me by surprise, pulling an arm around my waste and laying me on the sofa. Wand still pressed at my apex I feel him press into my burning heat. My swollen, greedy cunt enthusiastically swallows him whole and he builds up, taking great delight in teasing me further. Sometimes slow, tender with his explorations, other times railing me into the cushions. Lost in the swirling brain brought on by intense edging. Unsure he was ever going to let me cum but hoping he was enjoying me.

That’s when the words came: “Now. And make it a good one.”

The orgasm ripped through me, a guttural roar escaping my delicate lips while my body clamped onto his. He valiantly kept up his pace, his frenum knocking against my G-spot triggering a long anticipated gush. Pulling out and helping me to my feet I was soon once more against the wall. This time with him kneeling in front of me crushing my clit with the wand, forcing me to climax repeatedly, this time without restrictions. As my legs turned to mush he lays me down, me placing my head back, available, ready to taste our mingling fluids.

I don’t have to wait long.

Each vein feels like a mountain range against my over-sensitised tongue, his readiness never more in evidence than now. Permission granted I clean his balls, rim him. But not for long. “I know you’ve been practising your deepthroat” his reference to my practical tasks cuts through my blissful state, “let’s see how accommodating you’ve become.” I tilt my head back slightly and he glides in.

“You have been working hard, you should be proud of your efforts” He starts to move, ever mindful of my need for air he loses himself in the tightness of my throat, rubbing his glans through my flesh while at full depth, stroking my breasts and cheek as he holds me in place. The clamps are finally ripped from my nipples, lost in a sea of sensation my spent pussy sighs out one more release. Too late I’m gurgling my request around his impossibly hard erection. With one last swipe in and out he flicks the drool that is coating his shaft over my face and sprays the rest of me with reams of hot spunk, allowing it to cool before rubbing it in, leaving me with crusty skin.

While I float back down to earth he clears away around me.

There’s a glass of water waiting for me when I come to my senses, along with some fresh clothes from my wardrobe. Showered and dressed, he’s been busy while I’ve been dozing.

“Come on then, it’s time I took you out for dinner. I wonder what the waiters will think of your cum and spit crusted skin?” An errant hand reaches up to test the flakes but he playfully swipes it away. Once dressed in his chosen short skirt with no knickers he bends me over, inspecting my pink bottom before sliding a generously proportioned but well lubed plug inside of me.

This is going to be a long night with my unconventional valentine.

February Photofest 2022
Erotic Fiction

An Unconventional Valentine is my fourth post for Self Shot Photography Week. The second weekly theme for February Photo Fest 2022

2022 is my third time participating in February Photo Fest. February Photo Fest 2019 was my first, with my second being February Photo Fest 2021.


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