My husband has tied me and blind-folded me, and in this condition, sometimes he spanks me, and sometimes we play out mild xxxx fantasies. I say, "No, no, no!" But he tells me that his gentle caresses up my side have made my nipples erect. I shift my hips and say, "Stop, please stop!" But he reports that despite my protests, his touches and kisses have made my cunt soaking wet. I say, "please, don't touch me!" But as he licks and fingers my cunt, my hips can't help making little answering motions of joy. "Get off of me!" I cry, as he slides into me, telling me how wet and naughty I am. I try shifting my body to rock him off, but he pins my arms with his hands--my own hands are already tied to the bed posts--and the friction caused by my thrashing hips only increases my sexual excitement. "You're gasping and begin to flush," he says. "You can't make yourself dislike it even if you try." So I try lying completely still, limp like a doll. But he keeps up a maddeningly regular rhythm, thrusting into me and pressing against me, kissing my neck and licking my nipples. No mater how I try to wish it away, the little itch between my legs remains, and grows, and soon it's a flame of longing. The more I try to ignore it, the more I can think of nothing else. "You're so wet that I can hear my cock each time I thrusts into you," he says. My body has betrayed me, but I still try not to let him know. "I can hear it in your breathing," he says. "I can smell it! You're gonna cum soon." "No!" I tell myself, thinking that here I'll make a last stand. But he knows my body too well: he shortens his strokes, pressing against me just the tiniest bit longer at the top of each, and even as I try to deny it's happening, suddenly my heart is racing, my back is arching, and shivers go through my thighs, hips, and abdomen as the bliss of orgasm becomes fireball radiating out from my cunt to ignite every cell in my body. "Oh, stop, stop, please don't stop!" I say, as I find that every remaining effort to fight my orgasm only makes it stronger. Then it's just "Oh, oh, oh my God, oh...." my knees clutching to hold him against me, no matter what my mind is telling them. I lie back, sweaty, flushed, sated, and satisfied.
We have, of course, a secret word for times when "no" really means "no." I've never had to use it.
--the naughty fantasm