and so of quiet obsessions..

There are only two obsessions available in this village: the sea... and women. The sea by its overwhelming presence. And women by their absence. 
I spend the morning preparing for tomorrows visitor. I arrange the quiet room to best suit our needs, and make a list of proposed activities. 
I remind myself to be gentle as I lay out on my softest restraints. My visitor is new to the delights of the quiet room, having only recently escaped a long and tedious marriage. In many ways she is unprepared for the sudden and overwhelming urges that have recently begun to obsess her.

As is often the case with new pupils she has become rather fixated on a single act. For some is the use of force. For others it is humiliation. In the case of this particular visitor the fixation is anal. However, her training has only just begun, and there is still a way to go. 
The longing to take a hot, pulsing cock deep inside her arse is not enough. The need to feel used, and corrupted… and dirty, certainly helps, but will not sustain the moment in itself. Aside from anything else she has a particularly tight little anus that could so easily damaged if not properly softened and stretched in advance.

“When?” she demands, pressing herself back against the weight of my thumb.

“Soon,” I promise, as I firm my fingers in circles around her perineum – from the base of her cunt, and firmer toward the rim of her anus.

I press her cheeks apart and I spit on the tight knot of her (it is not contempt). She sighs as I slowly rotate my thumb - pressing. The knot begins to untie. Too eager she presses back still harder, and the knot tightens again.

“You lack discipline,” I tell her.

I take the fine cane and I sting her cheeks with it. It pinks in strips, some very close to her anus. I watch as the little circle of contracts.

“Fuck me!” she says. “Fuck me in the arse… please!”

“Too soon,” I tell her.

“I don’t mind if it hurts,” she says.

I believe her. In fact I’m certain that she would be disappointed if it didn’t hurt… a little. But there are degrees of pain, and I know her limits better than she does. I pinch her clit and slip the tip of a well-lubricated butt-plug into her, turning it as it slides deeper. Her gasp is… gratifying. As I apply more pressure to the tip of her clit she opens and the plug settles home. The little gush of her cumming erupts from her cunt drips creamily onto the bed, and the sound of her cumming fills the little room. With the plug secure I tease her with my cock, pressing as I prise her apart, striping her thighs with the cane as she tightens around the fat tip of me.

“When?” she asks.

“Soon,” I tell her.

Tomorrow she will arrive, and it may be time then. The twitching of my shaft as I prepare the quiet room suggests that the time is certainly approaching. Now that she has dreamed of it, woke sweating and wet with it: that one thought and image. It would be cruel really to make her wait any longer.

“It will hurt,” I will tell her. “Not too much, but enough…!”

I lay out some toys on the bed, and put some sunflowers in a vase in the kitchen. 
It is often the small things that matter most.

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